"You have but to name the day. The truth is, under the present
circumstances the world has suddenly contracted."
D'Hérouville nodded. "That is to say, it is no longer large enough for
both of us. I comprehend that perfectly."
"As I knew you would. I am exceedingly chagrined," continued the
vicomte, "at seeing you walking above the sod when, by a little more
care on my part, you would be resting neatly under it. But at that
time I had no other idea than temporarily to disable you. Could we but
see into the future sometimes!"
"In your place I should recoil from the gift." The count was shaking
with rage. "I shall not lose my temper when next we meet. If you were
not careful, I was equally careless."
"Within a week's time, Monsieur. By that date you will be as strong as
a bull. Your vitality is remarkable. But listen. Madame de Brissac
shall be my wife. First, I love her for herself; and then because De
Brissac left some handsome property."
"Which has Mazarin's seals of confiscation upon it," mockingly.
"They can be removed," imperturbably. "I tell you frankly that I shall
overcome all obstacles to reach my end. You are one of the obstacles
which must be removed, and I am here this morning expressly to acquaint
you with this fact."
"Perhaps I shall kill you."
"There will be the Chevalier."
"Measure swords with him?" sneeringly. "I believe not."
"There will still remain Monsieur de Saumaise, who, for all his rhymes,
handles a pretty blade."
D'Hérouville snapped his fingers. "His death I have already
determined."
"Besides, if I read the Chevalier rightly he will force you. You
laughed too loudly."
"I will laugh again, even more loudly."
"He will strike you . . . even as I did."
D'Hérouville spat. "Leave me, Monsieur. My wound may open again, and
that would put me back."
"I advise you to take the air to-day."
"I shall do so."
They were very courtly in those old days.
So D'Hérouville went forth to take the air that afternoon and
incidentally to pay his respects in person to Madame de Brissac.
Fortune favored him, for he met her coming down the path from the upper
town. He lifted his hat gravely and barred her path.
"Madame, my delight at seeing you is inexpressible."
Madame's countenance signified that the delight was his alone; she
shared no particle of it. She knew that eventually their paths would
cross again, but she had prepared no plans to meet this certainty. Her
gaze swerved from his and rested longingly on the Henri IV in the
harbor. She had determined to return to France upon it. The amazing
episode of the night before convinced her that her safety lay rather in
France than in Canada. But she had confided this determination to no
one, not even to Anne.