"
"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 Montbazon your mother?
Mazarin loves her not overwell. Ah, but that paper! What the devil
did we sign it for? I would give a year of my life could I but put my
hands upon it."
"Or the man who stole it."
"Or the man who stole it," repeated he.
"When I return to France, I shall have a deal to revenge," her hands
clenching.
"Let me be the sword of wrath, Madame. You have but to say the word.
You love no one, you say. You are young; I will devote my life to
teaching you."
Madame's gesture was of protest and of resignation. "Monsieur, if you
address me again, I shall appeal to Father Le Mercier or Father
Chaumonot. I will not be persecuted longer."
"Ah, well!" He moved aside for her and leaned against a tree, watching
her till she disappeared within the palisade. "Now, that is a woman!
She lacks not one attribute of perfection, save it be a husband, and
that shall be found.
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