posted seals upon all that
which fell to me through Monsieur de Brissac."

"What penetration!" thought the vicomte, rising and dusting his knees.

"And yet, Monsieur," impulsively, "I would not have you for an enemy."

"One would think that you are afraid of me."

"I am," simply.

"Why?"

"You are determined that I shall love you, and I am equally determined
that I shall not."

"Ah! a matter of the stronger mind and will."

"My will shall never bend toward yours, Monsieur. What I fear is your
persecution. Let us put aside love, which is impossible, and turn our
attention to something nearer and quite possible--friendship." She
extended her hand, frankly, without reservation. If only she could in
some manner disarm this man!

"What!" mockingly, "you forgive my attempt at Quebec to coerce you?"

"Frankly, since you did not succeed, Monsieur, I have seen too much of
men not to appreciate a brilliant stroke. Had I not torn that paper
from your hand, you might have scored at least half a trick. There is
a high place somewhere in this world for a man of your wit and courage."

"Mazarin's interpretation of that would be a gibbet on Montfaucon."

"I am offering you friendship, Monsieur." The hand remained extended.

The vicomte bowed, placed his hands behind his back and bowed again.
"Friendship and love; oil and water. Madame, when they mix well, I
will come in the guise of a friend. Sometimes I've half a mind to tell
the Chevalier who you are; for, my faith! it is humorous in the
extreme. I understand that you and he were affianced, once upon a
time; and here he is, making violent love to you, not knowing your name
any more than Adam knew Eve's."

"Very well, then, Monsieur. Since there can be no friendship, there
can be nothing. Hereafter you will do me the kindness not to intrude
into my affairs."

"Madame, I am a part of your destiny. I told you so long ago."

"I am a woman, and women are helpless." Madame was discouraged. What
with that insane D'Herouville, the Chevalier, and this mocking suitor,
her freedom was to prove but small. France, France! "And I am here in
exile, Monsieur, innocent of any wrong."

"You are guilty of beautiful eyes."

"I should have thrown myself upon Mazarin's mercy."

"Which is like unto the flesh of the fish--little blood and that cold.
You forget your beauty, Madame, and your wit. Mazarin would have found
you very guilty of these. And is not Madame de