I looked at her more closely than I had done before. Even by the dim light I could see how pale and sunken were her cheeks, and her raven hair was streaked with grey. Her eyes had lost the brazen fire that had shone in them once. Wretched and miserable indeed she looked. But this was not the La Marmotte of the past but another woman.
She put the candle down and turned to me.
"Monsieur, I have asked you to come here because we can be alone here and uninterrupted, and that which I have to say to you concerns the life, perhaps, of Mademoiselle de Paradis. Monsieur, you may not believe me, but from that dreadful night at Le Jaquemart I have become a changed woman. I have learned, monsieur, how to pray, and, my God! the past—the past!" And she put her hands to her face and shuddered.
"Madame, there is always a future."
"But never for a woman! Oh, Monsieur d'Orrain—for I know your name now—you know this as well as I."
I made no answer. What could I say? And she went on:
"Listen! After that night I brought him—Trotto—back to Paris as soon as he was able to move. He was badly hurt, but not so badly as we thought; and he lives for revenge. Your brother the Vidame is in a house in the Rue des Lavandières, into which he has recently moved. There I brought Trotto. Here I found Malsain and some others; and, believing me to be what I was before, they spoke freely before me. For you, monsieur, I warn you to fear the bravo's knife; they will not face you openly."
"I will try and take care of myself. But what is it that concerns mademoiselle?"
"This much I know, monsieur: the Vidame wants her for himself, or rather her wealth. The plan he has conceived is as follows:—the edict against the heretics is to be revived suddenly, and mademoiselle is to be accused. And you know what this means, with Dom Antoine de Mouchy as judge."
"But how will this gain the Vidame his wish?"