“Is Monsieur Éspiau there?” she asked.
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
“Admit him.”
In another moment the old servant of the Duke entered and fell on his knees before the Queen.
“Rise, my friend,” she said, with that gentle grace, that benignity, that ought to have endeared her to the whole of France, high and low, rich and poor; “were you at the Hôtel de Rivau-Huet on last Wednesday night?”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
“Were you in the apartments of the Comtesse de Villars?”
“I was, Your Majesty.”
“Between the hours of eleven and twelve?”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”