"It is a proof of the Count's participation in the late conspiracy. I found it in the room where I was imprisoned. And come what may, I will see that it goes to Paris for the inspection of the Duke de Sully. And then there will be a short shrift for the Count de Lavardin, I promise you."
"But in that case, it would be you that caused his death, Monsieur!" she exclaimed.
"The executioner would cause his death—and the law. I should be but the humble instrument of heaven to bring it to pass."
"But you would be the instrument of my husband's death, Monsieur! That must not be. You, of all men! No, no. Why, it would be an eternal barrier between us—in thought and kind feeling, I mean,—in the next world too. Oh, no; you must not use that paper, nor cause it to be used."
"But, Madame, he is a traitor. What matters it whether I or another—it is only justice—my duty to the King."
"But you do not understand. I should not dare even pray for you! And I must not let you denounce him—I must prevent your using that paper. I am his wife, Monsieur,—I must prevent. Otherwise, I should be consenting to my husband's death!"
"He has no scruples about consenting to yours, Madame."
"The sin is on his part, then, not on mine. Come, Monsieur, you must let me destroy that paper." She advanced toward me.
"No, Madame; not I. Nay, I will use force to keep it, if need be! It is my one weapon, my one means of vengeance." I tore my wrist from her hand, and put the paper back into my inner pocket.
"Then, Monsieur, I have said my last to you. I must put you out of my thoughts, out of my prayers even. And if I find means, I must warn my husband."