"No, Monsieur; her trouble was of quite another kind," my wife
answered with more spirit than I had expected.
"Pshaw! "I exclaimed.
"It is plain that you do not yet understand the case," Madame
persisted, facing me with trembling hardihood. "Mademoiselle
D'Oyley has been persecuted for some time by the suit of a man
for whom I know you, Monsieur, have no respect: a man whom no
Frenchwoman of family should be forced to marry."
"Who is it?" I said curtly.
"M. Pimentel."
"Ah! And the Queen?"
"Has made his suit her own. Doubtless her Majesty," Madame de
Sully continued with grimness, "who plays with him so much, is
under obligations to him, and has her reasons. The King, too, is
on his side, so that Mademoiselle--"
"Who has another lover, I suppose?" I said harshly.
My wife looked at me in trepidation. "It may be so, Monsieur,"
she said hesitating
"It is so, Madame; and you know it," I answered in the same tone.
"M. Vallon is the man."
"Oh!" she exclaimed with a gesture of alarm.
Pages:
255
256
257
258
259
260
261
262
263
264
265
266
267
268
269
270
271
272
273
274
275
276
277
278
279