This paper was in De Brissac's care; was, I say,
because it was missing the morning after his death. To-morrow, a week
or a month from now, Mazarin will have it. And . . ." Victor drew his
finger across his throat.
"A conspiracy? And you have put your name to it, you, who have never
been more serious than a sonnet? Were you mad, or drunk?"
"They call it madness. Madame's innocent eyes drew me into it. I've
only a vague idea what the conspiracy is about. Not that madame knew
what was going on. Politics was a large word to her, embracing all
those things which neither excited nor interested her. Lord love you,
there were a dozen besides myself, madame's beauty being the magnet."
"And the plot?"
"Mazarin's abduction and forced resignation, Conde's return from Spain
and Gaston's reinstatement at court."
"And your reward?"
"Hang me!" with a comical expression, "I had forgotten all about that
end of it. A captaincy of some sort. Devil take cabals! And madame,
finding out too late what had been going on, and having innocently
attached her name to the paper, is gone from Paris, leaving advice for
me to do the same.
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