Madame placed her hand upon the back of the chair and the ends of her
fingers grew white from the pressure.

"The great Beaufort has scrawled negligently across this paper; the
sly, astute Gaston. My name is here, and so is yours, Madame. My name
would never have been here but for your beauty, which was a fine lure.
Listen. As for my name, there lives in the Rue Saint Martin a friend
who plays at alchemy. He has a liquid which will dissolve ink, erase
it, obliterate it, leaving the paper spotless. Thus it will be easy
for me to substitute another in place of mine. Mazarin seeks you,
Madame, either to place your beautiful neck upon the block or to immure
you for life in prison. Madame, this paper represents two things: your
death-warrant or your marriage contract. Which shall it be?"




CHAPTER XXI

AN INGENIOUS IDEA AND A WOMAN'S WIT

Madame sat down. There was an interval of silence, during which the
candles seemed to move strangely from side to side, and the dark face
beyond was blurred and indistinct; all save the eyes, which, like the
lidless orbs of a snake, held and fascinated her. Vaguely she
comprehended the peril of a confused mind, and strove to draw upon that
secret inward strength which discovers itself in crises.

"How did you obtain that paper, Monsieur?"