He stopped for very lack of breath. "Madame was of good family?" the man in black said abruptly. He had grown suddenly attentive. His shadow on the wall behind him was still and straight-backed.
"Oh, yes," the husband answered bitterly.
"In Perigord?'
"Oh, yes."
"Three marshals of France?" M. Nôtredame murmured thoughtfully; but there was a strange light in his eyes, and he kept his face carefully averted from his companion. "That is not common! That is certainly something to boast of!"
"Mon Dieu! She did boast of it, though no one else allowed the claim. And of her blood of Roland!" M. de Vidoche cried, with scorn. His voice still shook, and his hands trembled with rage. He strode up and down.
"What was her name before she married?" the astrologer asked, stooping over the fire.
The young man stopped, arrested in his passion--stopped, and looked at him suspiciously. "Her name?" he muttered. "What has that to do with it?"
"If you want me to--draw her horoscope," the astrologer replied, with a cunning smile, "I must have something to go upon."
"Diane de Martinbault," the young man answered sullenly; and then, in a fresh burst of rage, he muttered, "Diane! Diable!"