Marguerite had cause of self congratulation in the issue of the second interview with the all powerful Richelieu. Difficulties, which the imagination paints as an Herculean labor to remove, shrink to trifles when the will is resolute and stern necessity impels.
The dread audience over, she flew with the intelligence to the zealous and faithful advocate, but when the first tumult of the mind had subsided, there was much to ponder over ere she could meet Monsieur Giraud. What account could be rendered concerning the page? Would he not question, and perhaps tax her with imprudence, and misplaced confidence? And was there no one else, fair Marguerite, interested? No question to ask thy own heart?
Richelieu’s page was daring, reckless, and seemingly a very unscrupulous youth, following the impulses of his will even to the periling of liberty and life! Yet her heart pleaded in his favor—the homage he paid was flattering—even the peril was incurred for her sake—and though their first rencontre was humiliating to her delicacy, and strangely indecorous on his part, yet, ere parting, it must be confessed that the rudeness had been forgiven, and his frankness and sincerity won favor. We will not say how far atonement was rendered easier in the culprit by the advantages of a handsome figure, youthful tresses and the fire of a proud dark eye!
Could she with honor, even with safety, expose his secret to the advocate? Nay, to confess that her intelligence was derived from a page in a confidential interview, would it not bring more blushes to the cheek than being exposed to the gaze of the score of cavaliers who environed Richelieu?
It could not be thought of—yet must the intelligence be communicated to the worthy Giraud—it was even so intended by François himself, although in terms so flattering to her discretion, he left the means to the maiden’s own judgment, making no stipulation, merely the memento that life and liberty were in her hands. And ought they not to be held sacred? Yes! even the very shadow of his name should be secret, no allusion escape her lips, which might in the slightest degree compromise the youth, even to so trusty a friend as Giraud.
The advocate was at home, waiting anxiously her appearance, for to-morrow would the sharp procureur pray for the decree of sequestration, and the venal president doubtless affirm it.
She had not taken his advice, but preferred a second appeal to the flinty cardinal rather than beseech the king’s interference. Yet had she been successful! He was delighted, prayed that every particular might be narrated, exclaimed that no such maiden had graced the lineage of De Pontis these five centuries past.
Gravely bidding the learned man cool his ardor, and take repose in the easy chair, the oracular seat in which he gave audience to clients, she detailed the circumstances of the meeting with the cardinal in the garden.
But who pointed out to Mademoiselle the locality? Who dictated the stratagem—for such it appeared to be—as the garden was not the usual gate of egress to the minister?
These questions the maiden solemnly declared that she must not answer—under whosever guidance she had acted, Monsieur Giraud might perceive that it had been successful. He must not even make further inquiries, or she would withhold secrets yet in store. It was not perhaps delicate or befitting, that one of her age should obtain intelligence from sources which she dare not reveal to her father, or her father’s friend—yet Monsieur Giraud must remember that the rôle she played in the affair was altogether unsuitable to her sex, and parental affection alone had stimulated her to endure what she had undergone. As the advocate had encouraged the resolution, he must not complain of an inevitable consequence—as she had ventured on a business, and strayed into haunts fitting only a man to explore, it must be permitted her to retain a privilege of manhood—the keeping her own secret.