A thunder-bolt falling at Nanon's feet would certainly have caused her
no greater surprise than this unexpected apparition, and would not, in
all probability, have extorted from her a more sorrowful exclamation
than that which escaped from her mouth involuntarily.
"He?" she cried.
"To be sure, my dear little sister," replied a most affable voice. "But
I beg your pardon," added the owner of the voice, as he espied the Duc
d'Épernon; "perhaps I intrude."
He bowed to the ground to the governor of Guyenne, who replied with a
gracious gesture.
"Cauvignac!" muttered Nanon, but so low that the name was pronounced by
her heart rather than by her lips.
"Welcome, Monsieur de Canolles," said the duke, with a most benevolent
expression; "your sister and I have done naught but talk of you since
last evening, and since last evening we have been most desirous of
seeing you."
"Ah! you wished to see me? indeed!" said Cauvignac, turning to Nanon,
with a look in which there was an indescribable expression of irony and
suspicion.
"Yes," said Nanon; "Monsieur le Duc has been kind enough to express a
wish that you should be presented to him."
"Naught save the fear of intruding upon you, monseigneur," said
Cauvignac, bowing to the duke, "has prevented me from seeking that
honor before this."
"On my word, baron," said the duke, "I admire your delicacy, but I feel
bound to reproach you for it."
"Reproach me for my delicacy, monseigneur? Oho!"
"Yes; for if your good sister had not looked out for your interests--"
"Ah!" exclaimed Cauvignac, with an eloquent, reproachful glance
at Nanon; "ah! my good sister has looked out for the interests of
Monsieur--"
"Her brother," interposed Nanon, hastily; "what could be more natural?"
"And then to-day; to what do I owe the pleasure of seeing you?"
"True," said Cauvignac; "to what do you owe the pleasure of seeing me,
monseigneur?"
"Why, to chance, to mere chance, which led you to return."
"Aha!" said Cauvignac to himself; "it seems that I had gone away."
"Yes, you went away, you bad brother; and without letting me know,
except by a word or two, which had no other effect than to increase my
anxiety."
"What would you have, dear Nanon? we must make allowances for a man in
love," said the duke, with a smile.
"Oho! this is becoming complicated," said Cauvignac; "it seems now that
I am in love."
"Come, come," said Nanon, "confess that you are."
"I won't deny it," rejoined Cauvignac, with a meaning smile, seeking
to glean from some eye some hint of the truth, to guide him in
constructing a lusty lie.
"Very good," said the duke; "but let us breakfast, if you've no
objection. You can tell us of your love-affairs as we sit at the table,
baron.--Francinette, a cover for Monsieur de Canolles. You haven't
breakfasted, captain, I trust?"
"No, monseigneur; and I confess that the fresh morning air has
sharpened my appetite prodigiously."
"Say the night air, you rascal," said the duke; "for you have been on
the road all night."
"'Faith!" muttered Cauvignac, "the brother-in-law guessed aright there.
Very good! I admit it; the night air--"
"In that case," the duke continued, giving his arm to Nanon, and
leading the way to the dining-room, followed by Cauvignac, "I trust
that you will find here the wherewithal to defeat your appetite,
however strongly constituted it may be."
It was the fact that Master Biscarros had outdone himself; the dishes
were not numerous, but delicious and exquisitely served. The yellow
wine of Guyenne, and the red Burgundy fell from the bottles like golden
pearls and cascades of rubies.
Cauvignac ate very heartily.
"The boy handles his knife and fork very cleverly," said the duke. "But
you do not eat, Nanon."
"I am no longer hungry, monseigneur."
"Dear sister!" cried Cauvignac; "to think that the pleasure of seeing
me has taken away her appetite! Indeed, I can but be grateful to her
for loving me so dearly."
"This chicken-wing, Nanon?" said the duke.
"Give it to my brother, monseigneur; give it to my brother," replied
Nanon, who saw Cauvignac emptying his plate with terrifying rapidity,
and dreaded his raillery after the food had disappeared.
Cauvignac held out his plate with a grateful smile. The duke placed
the wing upon the plate, and Cauvignac replaced the plate on the table
before him.
"Well, what have you been doing that's worth the telling, Canolles?"
said the duke, with a familiarity which seemed to Cauvignac of
most hopeful augury. "It is understood that I am not speaking of
love-affairs."
"Nay; do speak of them, monseigneur; speak of them," rejoined the
younger man, whose tongue was beginning to be unloosed by successive
doses of Médoc and Chambertin, and who, moreover, was in a very
different situation from those people who borrow a name themselves, in
that he had no fear of being interfered with by his double.
"Oh, monseigneur, he's very skilful at raillery," said Nanon.
"In that case, we can place him in the same category with the little
gentleman," the duke suggested.
"Yes," said Nanon, "the little gentleman you met last evening."
"Ah! yes, in the road," said Cauvignac.
"And afterwards at Master Biscarros' hôtel," the duke added.
"And afterwards at Master Biscarros' hôtel," assented Cauvignac; "it's
true, by my faith."
"Do you mean that you really did meet him?" queried Nanon.
"The little gentleman?"
"Yes."
"What sort of person was he? Tell us frankly," said the duke.
"Egad!" replied Cauvignac; "he was a charming little fellow,--fair and
slender and refined, and travelling with a caricature of a squire."
"It's the same man," said Nanon, biting her lips.
"And you are in love with him?"
"With whom?"
"With this same little, fair, slender, refined gentleman."
"Oh, monseigneur!" exclaimed Cauvignac, "what do you mean?"
"Have you still the pearl-gray glove on your heart?"
"The pearl-gray glove?"
"Yes; the one you were smelling and kissing so passionately last
evening."
This last phrase removed Cauvignac's perplexity.
"Ah!" he cried, "your little gentleman was a woman, was she? On my word
of honor, I suspected as much."
"There can be no doubt now," murmured Nanon.
"Give me some wine, sister mine," said Cauvignac. "I can't imagine who
emptied the bottle that stands beside me, but there's nothing in it."
"Go to!" exclaimed the duke; "his complaint can be cured, as his love
doesn't interfere with his eating or drinking; and the king's business
will not suffer."
"The king's business suffer!" cried Cauvignac. "Never! The king's
business first of all! the king's business, is sacred. To his Majesty's
health, monseigneur."
"I may rely upon your loyalty, baron?"
"Upon my loyalty to the king?"
"Yes."
"I should say you may rely upon it. I would gladly be drawn and
quartered for him--at times."
"Your loyalty is easily understood," said Nanon, fearing that, in his
enthusiasm for the Médoc and Chambertin, Cauvignac might forget the
part he was playing, and clothe himself in his own individuality.
"Aren't you a captain in his Majesty's service, by virtue of Monsieur
le Duc's favor?"
"I shall never forget it!" said Cauvignac, laying his hand, upon his
heart, with tearful emotion.
"We will do better, baron; we will do better hereafter," said the duke.
"Thanks, monseigneur, thanks!"
"And we have already begun."
"Indeed!"
"Yes. You are too bashful, my young friend," continued d'Épernon. "When
you are in need of anything, you must come to me. Now that there is no
need to beat around the bush; now that you are no longer called upon to
conceal your identity; now that I know that you are Nanon's brother--"
"Monseigneur," cried Cauvignac, "henceforth I will apply to you in
person."
"You promise?"
"I give you my word."
"You will do well. Meanwhile, your sister will explain to you what
is to be done now; she has a letter to intrust to you in my behalf.
Perhaps your fortune is in the missive which I place in your hands on
her recommendation. Follow your sister's advice, young man, follow her
advice; she has an active brain, a keen intellect, and a noble heart.
Love your sister, baron, and you will be established in my good graces."
"Monseigneur," exclaimed Cauvignac, effusively, "my sister knows how
dearly I love her, and that I long for nothing so much as to see her
happy, powerful, and--rich."
"Your fervor gratifies me," said the duke; "pray remain with Nanon,
while I go hence to have a reckoning with a certain consummate
villain. By the way, baron, perhaps you may be able to give me some
information concerning the scoundrel."
"Gladly," said Cauvignac. "Only it will be necessary for me to know to
what scoundrel you refer, monseigneur; there are many of them, and of
every variety in these days."
"You are right; but this one is one of the most brazen-faced it has
ever been my lot to fall in with."
"Indeed!"
"Imagine, if you please, that the gallows-bird extorted my signature
in blank, in exchange for the letter your sister wrote you yesterday,
which he procured by an infamous deed of violence."
"A signature in blank! upon my word! But what interest had you, pray,
in possessing the letter of a sister to her brother?"
"Do you forget that I knew nothing of the relationship?"
"Ah! true."
"And I was idiotic enough--you will forgive me, won't you, Nanon?"
continued the duke, holding out his hand to the young woman--"I was
idiotic enough to be jealous of you!"
"Indeed! jealous of me! Oh! monseigneur, you were very, very wrong!"
"I was about to ask you if you had any suspicion as to the identity of
the rascal who played informer?"
"No, not the slightest. But you understand, monseigneur, that such acts
do not go unpunished, and some day you will know who did it."
"Oh! yes, certainly I shall know it some day, and I have taken
precautions in abundance to that end; but I would have preferred to
know it immediately."
"Ah!" rejoined Cauvignac, pricking up his ears; "ah! you say you have
taken precautions to that end, monseigneur?"
"Yes, yes! And the villain," continued the duke, "will be very
fortunate if my signature in blank doesn't lead to his being hanged."
"Why, how can you distinguish that particular signature from all the
other orders you give out, monseigneur?"
"Because I made a private mark upon it."
"A mark?"
"Yes; an invisible mark, which I can render visible with the aid of a
chemical process."
"Well, well!" said Cauvignac, "that is certainly a most ingenious
device, monseigneur; but you must be careful that he doesn't suspect
the trap."
"Oh! there's no danger of that; who do you think is likely to tell him
of it?"
"True! true!" replied Cauvignac; "not Nanon, surely, nor I--"
"Nor I," said the duke.
"Nor you. So you are right, monseigneur; you cannot fail to know some
day who the man is, and then--"
"Then, as I shall have kept my agreement with him, for he will have
obtained whatever he chose to use the signature for, I will have him
hanged."
"_Amen!_" said Cauvignac.
"And now," continued the duke, "as you can give me no information
concerning the miscreant--"
"No, monseigneur; in very truth, I cannot."
"As I was saying, I will leave you with your sister.--Nanon, give the
boy precise instructions, and above all things, see that he loses no
time."
"Never fear, monseigneur."
"Adieu to you both."
He waved his hand gracefully to Nanon, bestowed a friendly nod upon
her brother, and descended the stairs, saying that he should probably
return during the day.
Nanon went with the duke to the head of the stairs.
"_Peste!_" said Cauvignac to himself, "my gallant friend did well to
warn me. Ah! he's no such fool as he seems. But what shall I do with
his signature? _Dame!_ I'll do what I would do with a note; discount
it."
"Now, monsieur," said Nanon, returning, and closing the door behind
her, "now let us understand each other."
"My dear little sister," Cauvignac replied, "I came hither for the
purpose of having a talk with you; but in order to talk at our ease, we
must be seated. Sit you down, therefore, I beg."
As he spoke, he drew a chair near to his own and motioned to Nanon that
it was intended for her.
Nanon seated herself with a frown, which augured ill for the harmony of
the interview.
"First of all," said she, "why are you not where you should be?"
"Ah! my dear little sister, that is hardly courteous. If I were where
I should be, I should not be here, and consequently you would not have
the pleasure of seeing me."
"Did you not wish to take orders?"
"No, not I; say rather, that certain persons who are interested in me,
notably yourself, wished to force me to take orders; but personally, I
have never had a particularly earnest vocation for the Church."
"But you were educated for a religious life?"
"Yes, sister; and I believe I have piously profited by that fact."
"No sacrilege, monsieur; do not joke on sacred subjects."
"I am not joking, dear sister; I am simply stating facts. Look you;
you sent me to the Minim brethren at Angoulème to prepare for the
priesthood."
"Well?"
"I studied diligently there. I know Greek like Homer, Latin like
Cicero, and theology like John Huss. Having nothing more to learn among
those worthy monks, I left their establishment, still following out
your wishes, and went to the Carmelites at Rouen, to make profession of
faith."
"You forget to say that I had promised you a yearly allowance of a
hundred pistoles, and that I kept my promise. A hundred pistoles for a
Carmelite was more than enough, I should say."
"I don't deny it, my dear sister; but the convent always claimed my
allowance on the pretext that I was not yet a Carmelite."
"Even so, did you not, when you consecrated your life to the Church,
take a vow of poverty?"
"If I did make such a vow, dear sister, I give you my word that I have
faithfully lived up to it; no one was ever poorer than I."
"But how did you leave the convent?"
"Ah! there you are! In the same way that Adam left the earthly
paradise; it was knowledge that undid me, sister; I knew too much."
"What's that? you knew too much?"
"Yes. Imagine, if you can, that among the Carmelites, who have not
the reputation of being Erasmuses or Descartes, I was looked upon as
a prodigy,--of learning, be it understood. The result was that when
Monsieur le Duc de Longueville came to Rouen to urge that city to
declare in favor of the parliament, I was sent to harangue Monsieur de
Longueville; the which I did in such elegant and well-chosen language,
that Monsieur de Longueville not only expressed himself as well pleased
with my eloquence, but asked me if I would be his secretary. This
happened just as I was about to take the vows."
"Yes, I remember; and on the pretext that you were saying farewell to
the world, you asked me for a hundred pistoles, which were given into
your own hands."
"And they are the only ones I received, on the word of a gentleman!"
"But you were to renounce the world."
"Yes, such was my intention; but such was not the intention of
Providence, which probably had other plans for me. It made a different
disposition of me through the medium of Monsieur de Longueville; it
was not its will that I should remain a monk. I therefore conformed to
the will of a merciful Providence, and I am free to say that I do not
repent having done so."
"Then you are no longer in the Church?"
"No, not for the moment, at least, my dear sister. I do not dare say
that I may not return to it some day; for what man can say to-day what
he will do to-morrow? Has not Monsieur de Rancé recently founded the
Trappist order? Perhaps I shall follow in his footsteps, and found some
new order. But for the moment I have dallied with war, you see, and
that has made me profane and impure for some time to come; at the first
opportunity I shall purify myself."
"You a fighting man!" exclaimed Nanon, with a shrug.
"Why not? _Dame!_ I won't pretend to say that I am a Dunois, a
Duguesclin, a Bayard, a knight without fear and without reproach. No,
I am not so vainglorious as to claim that I have not some trifling
peccadilloes to be ashamed of, nor will I ask, like the famous
condottiere Sforza, what fear is. I am a man, and, as Plautus says:
'_Homo sum et nihil humani me alienum puto_;' which means: 'I am a man,
and nothing pertaining to mankind is strange to me.' I do know what
fear is, therefore, but that does not prevent my being courageous on
occasion. I handle a sword or a pistol prettily enough when I am driven
to it. But my real bent, my decided vocation, is diplomacy. Unless I
am sadly mistaken, my dear Nanon, I am on the way to become a great
politician. A fine career is politics; Monsieur de Mazarin will rise
very high if he's not hanged. And I am like Monsieur de Mazarin; so
that one of my apprehensions, the greatest of them all, in fact, is,
that I may be hanged. Fortunately, I have you, dear Nanon, and that
gives me great confidence."
"So you are a warrior?"
"And a courtier, too, at need. Ah! my sojourn with Monsieur de
Longueville was of the greatest benefit to me."
"What did you learn when you were with him?"
"What one always learns in the service of princes,--to fight, to
intrigue, to betray."
"And those accomplishments--"
"Raised me to the very highest position."
"Which you have lost?"
"_Dame!_ Hasn't Monsieur de Condé lost his? A man can't rule events.
Dear sister, I, poor creature that I am, have governed Paris."
"You?"
"Yes, I."
"For how long a time?"
"For an hour and three quarters, watch in hand."
"You governed Paris?"
"With despotic power."
"How did that come about?"
"In the simplest way imaginable. You must know that Monsieur le
Coadjuteur, Monsieur de Gondy, the Abbé de Gondy---"
"Well?"
"Was absolute master of the city. Well, at that precise moment, I
was in the service of Monsieur le Duc d'Elbœuf; he is a Lorraine
prince, and one need not be ashamed to belong to him. For the time
being, Monsieur d'Elbœuf was at enmity with the coadjutor. So I led
an uprising in favor of Monsieur d'Elbœuf, in the course of which I
captured--"
"Whom? the coadjutor?"
"No; I shouldn't have known what to do with him, and should have been
much embarrassed. I captured his mistress, Mademoiselle de Chevreuse."
"Why, that was a terrible thing to do!" cried Nanon.
"Isn't it a terrible thing that a priest should have a mistress? At all
events, that's what I said to myself. My purpose was, therefore, to
carry her away, and carry her so far that he would never see her again.
I sent word to him of my purpose; but the devil of a man uses arguments
one can't resist; he offered me a thousand pistoles."
"Poor woman! to be thus bargained for!"
"Nonsense! on the contrary, she should have been overjoyed, for that
proved how dearly Monsieur de Gondy loved her. None but men of the
Church are so devoted as all that to their mistresses. I fancy that
it's because they are forbidden to have them."
"You are rich, then?"
"Rich?"
"Of course, after all these acts of brigandage."
"Don't speak of it; look you, Nanon, I was most unlucky. Mademoiselle
de Chevreuse's maid, whom no one thought of ransoming, and who
consequently remained with me, took the money from me."
"I hope that you retained at least the good-will of those in whose
interest you acted in putting this affront upon the coadjutor."
"Ah! Nanon, that proves how little you know of princes. Monsieur
d'Elbœuf was reconciled with the coadjutor. In the treaty they entered
into I was sacrificed. I was forced therefore to enter the service of
Monsieur de Mazarin, who is a contemptible creature; and as the pay was
by no means commensurate with the work to be done, I accepted an offer
that was made me to incite another _émeute_ in honor of Councillor
Broussel, the object being to secure the election of the Chancellor
Seguier. But my men, the bunglers! only half killed him. In that affray
I was in greater danger than ever before threatened me. Monsieur de la
Meilleraie fired a pistol at me almost point-blank. Luckily, I stooped
in time; the bullet whistled over my head, and the illustrious marshal
killed no one but an old woman."
"What a tissue of horrors!" exclaimed Nanon.
"Why no, dear sister; simply the necessities of civil war."
"I can understand that a man capable of such things might have dared to
do what you did yesterday."
"What did I do, pray?" queried Cauvignac with the most innocent
expression; "what did I dare?"
"You dared to throw dust in the eyes of so eminent a man as Monsieur
d'Épernon. But what I cannot understand, and would never have
believed, is that a brother, fairly laden with favors at his sister's
hands, could in cold blood form a plan to ruin that sister."
"Ruin my sister?--I?" said Cauvignac.
"Yes, you!" retorted Nanon. "I had no need to wait for the tale you
have just told me, which proves that you are capable of anything, to
recognize the handwriting of this letter. Tell me! do you deny that
this unsigned letter was written by you?"
And Nanon indignantly held before her brother's eyes the denunciatory
letter the duke had handed her the night before.
Cauvignac read it composedly.
"Well," said he, "what have you to say against this letter? Is it not
couched in well-turned phrase? If you thought so, I should be very
sorry for you, for it would prove that your literary taste is vitiated."
"This is not a question of the composition, monsieur, but of the fact
itself. Did you, or did you not write this letter?"
"Unquestionably I did. If I had proposed to deny the fact, I should
have disguised my handwriting; but it was useless. I have never
intended to hide it from you; indeed, I was anxious that you should
recognize the letter, as coming from me."
"Oh!" exclaimed Nanon, with a horrified gesture, "you admit it!"
"It is a last relic of humility, dear sister; yes, I may as well tell
you that I was actuated by a desire for revenge--"
"Revenge?"
"Yes, most naturally--"
"Revenge upon me, you wretch! Pray, consider what you are saying. What
injury have I ever done you that the thought of seeking revenge should
enter your mind?"
"What have you done to me? Ah! Nanon, put yourself in my place. I left
Paris because I had too many enemies there; 't is the misfortune of
all men who dabble in politics. I returned to you--I implored you. Do
you remember? You received three letters,--you won't say that you did
not recognize my hand; it was precisely the same as in this anonymous
letter, and furthermore, those letters were signed,--I wrote you three
letters, begging for a hundred beggarly pistoles--a hundred pistoles!
to you, who had millions, it was the merest trifle. But a hundred
pistoles, as you know, is my favorite figure. Very good; my sister
ignored me! I presented myself at my sister's house; my sister's door
was closed in my face! Naturally, I made inquiries. 'Perhaps she is in
want,' I said to myself;'if so, this is the time to show her that her
benefactions have not fallen on stony soil. Perhaps she is no longer
free; in that case her treatment of me is pardonable.' You see my
heart sought excuses for you, until I learned that my sister was free,
happy, wealthy, and rich--rich, richer, richest!--and that one Baron de
Canolles, a stranger, had usurped my privileges, and was enjoying her
protection in my place. Thereupon jealousy turned my head."
"Say cupidity. You sold me to Monsieur d'Épernon as you sold
Mademoiselle de Chevreuse to the coadjutor! What business was it of
yours, I pray to know, that I was on friendly terms with Monsieur le
Baron de Canolles?"
"What business was it of mine? None at all, and I should not even have
thought of interfering if you had continued to be on friendly terms
with me."
"Do you know that if I were to say a single word to Monsieur d'Épernon,
if I should tell him the whole truth, you would be lost?"
"Certainly."
"You heard with your own ears from his mouth a moment since, what fate
is in store for the man who extorted that signature in blank from him."
"Don't speak of it; I shuddered to the very marrow of my bones; and it
needed all my self-control to prevent me from betraying myself."
"And you say that you do not tremble now, although you confess your
acquaintance with fear?"
"No; for such an open confession on your part would show that Monsieur
de Canolles is not your brother, and that note of yours, being
addressed to a stranger, would take on very sinister meaning. It is
much better, believe me, to have made the disingenuous confession you
have made, ungrateful sister--I dare not say blindly, I know you too
well for that; but consider, pray, how many advantages, all foreseen
by me, result from this little episode, for which all the credit
is due to my thoughtfulness. In the first place, you were greatly
embarrassed, and dreaded the arrival of Monsieur de Canolles, who, not
having been warned, would have floundered around terribly in the midst
of your little family romance. My presence, on the other hand, has
made everything smooth; your brother is no longer a mystery. Monsieur
d'Épernon has adopted him, and in a very flattering way, I am bound
to say. Now, therefore, the brother is under no further necessity of
skulking in corners; he is one of the family; _ergo_, correspondence,
appointments without, and why not within?--provided always that the
brother with black eyes and hair is careful not to come face to face
with Monsieur d'Épernon. One cloak bears an astonishing resemblance to
another, deuce take it! and when Monsieur d'Épernon sees a cloak leave
your house, who is to tell him whether it is or is not a brother's
cloak? So there you are, free as the wind. But to do you this service,
I have unbaptized myself; my name is Canolles, and that's a nuisance.
You ought to be grateful to me for the sacrifice."
Nanon was struck dumb by this resistless flood of eloquence, the fruit
of inconceivable impudence, and she could think of no arguments to
oppose to it. Cauvignac made the most of his victory, and continued,--
"And now, dear sister, as we are united once more after so long
a separation; as you have found a real brother, after so many
disappointments, confess that henceforth you will sleep in
peace,--thanks to the shield which love stretches over you; you will
lead as tranquil a life as if all Guyenne adored you, which is not
precisely the fact, you know; but Guyenne must bend to our will. In
short, I have taken my station at your threshold; Monsieur d'Épernon
procures a colonel's commission for me; instead of six men, I have two
thousand. With those, two thousand men I will perform again the twelve
tasks of Hercules; I shall be created duke and peer; Madame d'Épernon
dies; Monsieur d'Épernon marries you--"
"Before all this happens you must do two things," said Nanon, shortly.
"What are they, dear sister? Tell me; I am listening."
"First of all, you must return the duke's signature in blank to him;
otherwise, you will be hanged. You heard your sentence from his own
lips. Secondly, you must leave this house instantly, or not only am I
ruined forever, for which you care nothing, but you will be involved
in my ruin,--a consideration which will cause you to think twice, I
trust, before you decide."
"These are my answers, dear lady: the signature in blank is my
property, and you can't prevent my getting myself hanged, if such is my
good pleasure."
"God forbid!"
"Thanks! I shall do nothing of the kind; never fear. I declared my
aversion to that kind of death a few moments since; I shall keep the
document, therefore, unless you have a craving to purchase it from me,
in which case we may come to terms."
"I have no use for it; I give them away."
"Lucky Nanon!"
"You will keep it, then?"
"Yes."
"At the risk of what may happen to you?"
"Don't be alarmed; I have a place for it. As to taking my leave, I
shall make no such blunder, being here by the duke's invitation.
Furthermore, in your desire to be rid of me, you forget one thing."
"What is that?"
"The important commission the duke mentioned, which is likely to make
my fortune."
Nanon turned pale.
"Why, you know perfectly well that it was not intended for you," she
said. "You know that to abuse your present position would be a crime,
for which you would have to pay the penalty one day or another."
"For that reason I don't propose to abuse it. I am anxious to use it,
nothing more."
"Besides, Monsieur de Canolles is named in the commission."
"Very good; am I not Baron de Canolles?"
"Yes; but his face, as well as his name, is known at court. Monsieur de
Canolles has been there several times."
"_A la bonne heure!_ that's a strong argument; it's the first you have
put forward, and you see that I yield to it."
"Moreover, you might fall in with your political opponents there," said
Nanon; "and perhaps your face, although under a different name, is as
well known as Monsieur de Canolles'."
"Oh! that would amount to nothing, if, as the duke says, the mission
is destined to result advantageously to France. The message will be
the messenger's safeguard. A service of such importance implies pardon
for him who renders it, and amnesty for the past is always the first
condition of political conversions. And so, dear sister, it is not for
you, but for me, to impose conditions."
"Well, what are yours?"
"In the first place, as I was saying, the first condition of every
treaty,--general amnesty."
"Is that all?"
"Secondly, the adjustment of our accounts."
"It would seem that I owe you something, then?"
"You owe me the hundred pistoles, which you inhumanly refused me."
"Here are two hundred."
"Good! I recognize the real Nanon in that."
"But I give them to you on one condition."
"What is that?"
"That you repair the wrong you have done."
"That is no more than fair. What must I do?"
"You must take horse and ride along the Paris road until you overtake
Monsieur de Canolles."
"In that case, I lose his name."
"You restore it to him."
"And what am I to say to him?"
"You will hand him this order, and make sure that he sets out instantly
to execute it."
"Is that all?"
"Absolutely."
"Is it necessary that he should know who I am?"
"On the contrary, it is of the utmost importance that he should not
know."
"Ah! Nanon, do you blush for your brother?"
Nanon did not reply; she was lost in thought.
"How can I be sure," she began, after a moment's silence, "that you
will do my errand faithfully? If you held anything sacred, I would
require your oath."
"You can do better than that."
"How?"
"Promise me a hundred more pistoles after the errand is done."
"It's a bargain," said Nanon, with a shrug.
"Mark the difference. I ask you for no oath, and your simple word is
enough for me. We will say a hundred pistoles to the man who hands you
from me Monsieur de Canolles' receipt."
"Yes; but you speak of a third person; do you not expect to return
yourself?"
"Who knows? I have business myself which requires my presence in the
neighborhood of Paris."