. ."
"I have seen her," quietly.
"What is her name, and what has she done?" indifferently.
"Her name I can not tell you, Paul."
"Can not? Why not 'will not'?"
"Will not, then. I have given my promise."
"Have I ever kept a secret from you, Victor?"
"One."
"Name it."
"That mysterious mademoiselle whom you call Diane. You have never even
told me what she looks like."
"I could not if I tried. But this woman in the mask; at least you
might tell me what she has done."
"Politics. Conspiracy, like misery, loves company. . . . Who has been
burning paper?" sniffing.
"Burning paper?"
"Yes; and here's the ash. You've been burning something?"
"Not I, lad," with an abrupt laugh. "Hang it, let us go and eat."
"Yes; I am anxious to know why Monsieur le Marquis is here."
"And the burgundy; it will be like old times." There was sweat on the
Chevalier's forehead, and he drew his sleeve across it.
From an obscure corner of the council chamber the figure of a man
emerged. He walked on tiptoe toward the table. The black ash on the
table fascinated him. For several moments he stared at it.
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