The Regent's Daughter. Dumas Alexandre

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The Regent's Daughter - Dumas Alexandre


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tall, yellow," repeated Dubois; "just so."

      "From forty to forty-five," added Owen.

      "Exactly," said Dubois, adding ten louis.

      "In a silk dress, with large flowers on it."

      "Very good," said Dubois.

      Owen saw that his questioner knew enough about the lady, and waited.

      "And you say that your master made acquaintance with the young lady en route?"

      "Yes, monsieur, but I think it was a farce."

      "What do you mean?"

      "I mean that they knew each other before; and I am sure of one thing, that my master waited for her three hours at Oudon."

      "Bravo," said Dubois, adding ten louis; "we shall make something of you."

      "You do not wish to know anything more, then?" asked Owen, extending his hand toward the two piles of gold.

      "Stop," said Dubois; "is the young lady pretty?"

      "Beautiful as an angel," answered Owen.

      "And, no doubt, they made an appointment to meet in Paris?"

      "No, monsieur, I think they said adieu forever."

      "Another farce."

      "I do not think so, monsieur; my master was so sad when they separated."

      "And they are not to meet again?"

      "Yes, once more, I think, and all will be over."

      "Well, take your money; and remember that if you mention one word of this, in ten minutes you will be a dead man."

      Owen snatched the money, which disappeared in his pocket instantly.

      "And now," said he, "may I go?"

      "No, idiot; from this moment you belong to me, for I have bought you, and you will be more useful to me at Paris than elsewhere."

      "In that case I will remain, monsieur, I promise."

      "There is no need to promise."

      At this moment the door opened, and Tapin appeared, looking very much agitated.

      "What has happened now?" asked Dubois.

      "Something very important, monseigneur; but send away this man."

      "Return to your master," said Dubois, "and if he writes to any one whatever, remember that I am most anxious to see his writing."

      Owen went out, delighted to be set free.

      "Well, Tapin," said Dubois, "what is it?"

      "Monseigneur, after the hunt at St. Germains, his royal highness, instead of returning to Paris, sent away every one, and gave orders to proceed to Rambouillet."

      "The regent coming to Rambouillet!"

      "He will be here in half an hour, and would have been here now, if hunger had not luckily obliged him to enter the chateau and procure some refreshment."

      "And what is he coming to Rambouillet for?"

      "I do not know, monseigneur, unless it be for the young girl who has just arrived with a nun, and who is now in the pavilion of the hotel."

      "You are right, Tapin; it is doubtless for her; and Madame Desroches, too. Did you know that Madame Desroches was here?"

      "No, monseigneur, I did not."

      "And are you sure that your information is correct, my dear Tapin?"

      "Oh, monseigneur, it was from L'Eveille, whom I placed near his royal highness, and what he says is gospel truth."

      "You are right," said Dubois, who seemed to know the qualities of this man, "if it be L'Eveille, there is no doubt."

      "The poor fellow has lamed his horse, which fell near Rambouillet."

      "Thirty louis for the horse; he may gain what he can of it."

      Tapin took the thirty louis.

      "You know the situation of the pavilion, do you not?"

      "Perfectly."

      "Where is it?"

      "One side looks on the second courtyard; the other on a deserted lane."

      "Place men in the courtyard and in the lane, disguised as stablemen, or how you please; let no one enter the pavilion but monseigneur and myself; the life of his royal highness is at stake."

      "Rest easy, monseigneur."

      "Do you know our Breton?"

      "I saw him dismount."

      "Do your men know him?"

      "They all saw him on the road."

      "Well, I recommend him to you."

      "Shall we arrest him?"

      "Certainly not; he must be allowed to go where he pleases, and act as he pleases, and he must have every opportunity to do so. If he were arrested now, he would tell nothing, and our plans would be disconcerted; no, no, these plans must hatch."

      "Hatch what, monseigneur?" said Tapin, who appeared to be on confidential terms with Dubois.

      "My archbishop's miter, M. Lecocq," said Dubois, "and now to your work; I go to mine."

      Both left the room and descended the staircase, but separated at the door; Lecocq went along the Rue de Paris; and Dubois, slipping along by the wall, went to peep through the hole in the shutter.

      CHAPTER VIII.

      THE UTILITY OF A SEAL

      Gaston had just supped; for at his age, whether a man be in despair or in love, nature asserts her rights. He was leaning on the table thoughtfully. The lamp threw a light over his face, and enabled Dubois to gratify his curiosity.

      He looked at him with an attention almost alarming: his quick eye darted – his lip curled with a smile, which gave one the idea of a demon smiling at the sight of one of those victims who seem to have vowed their own perdition.

      While looking, he murmured, "Young, handsome, black eyes, proud lips – he is a Breton, he is not corrupted, like the conspirators of Cellamare, by the soft glances of the ladies at court; – then the other spoke of carrying off, dethroning, but this one —diable, this one; and yet," continued he, after a pause, "I look in vain for traces of cunning on that open brow. I see no Machiavelism in the corners of that mouth, so full of loyalty and honor; yet no doubt all is arranged to surprise the regent on his visit to this Clisson demoiselle. Who will say again that Bretons have dull brains?

      "No," said Dubois, after another pause, "it cannot be so. It is impossible that this young man with his calm sad face should be ready in a quarter of an hour to kill a man, and that man the first prince of the blood. No, I cannot believe in such sang-froid; and yet the regent has kept this amourette secret even from me; he goes out to hunt at St. Germains, announces aloud that he shall sleep at the Palais Royal, then all at once gives counter orders, and drives to Rambouillet. At Rambouillet, the young girl waits, and is received by Madame Desroches; who can she be watching for, if not for the regent? and this young girl is the mistress of the chevalier – but is she? – Ah! we must learn. We must find out how far we can depend on Owen," and Dubois left his observatory and waited on the staircase – he was quite hidden in the shade, and he could see Gaston's door in the light.

      The door presently opened, and Owen appeared.

      He held a letter in his hands, and after hesitating a minute, he appeared to have taken his determination, and mounted the staircase.

      "Good," said Dubois, "he has tasted the forbidden fruit, and he is mine."

      Then, stopping Owen: "Give me the letter which you were bringing me, and wait here."

      "How did you know I had a letter?" asked Owen, bewildered.

      Dubois shrugged his shoulders, took the letter, and disappeared.

      In his room he examined the seal; the chevalier, who had no wax, had used that on the bottle, and had sealed it with the stone


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