“Yet I would it were not necessary.”
“Unhappily it is. That woman’s spies have made it impossible that you can any longer come to confer with the Queen’s friends by the secret passage; if we are to succeed in our plan it must not be known that you, who are in the King’s private service, are an ally of the Ministers and of the Queen’s party; nor can you now openly visit her Majesty’s apartments as you did——”
“No,” said the Chevalier, “the new Captain of the Queen’s Guards has prevented that.”
For a minute or two Denise was silent. “Secrecy is necessary to success,” she resumed in a restrained voice; “I am here as you know on behalf of the Queen’s advisers; what others may think cannot affect those who are my friends, who believe in me because they believe in my—our—cause.”
“Not merely your friends, Marquise, but those who love you.”
“Monsieur, up there,” she pointed to the majestic front of the palace, where the lights were beginning to twinkle, “you can speak like that if you think fit. Down here I beg you to remember I am an orphan, a girl alone.”
And then both were silent.
“Are you sure, really quite sure,” Denise began, “that the Vicomte de Nérac owes his appointment to the intrigues of that woman?”
“I am absolutely sure.”
Denise sighed very faintly. “You will remember your promise not to reveal this discovery to any one else.”