Pierre Pevel - By The Alchemist in the Shadows Page 0,128

a pity, isn't it?' said madame de Chevreuse in the same tone she might have employed to regret the loss of beautiful rosebushes killed by frost.

Laincourt did not reply and together they turned towards the magnificent garden.

'I must thank you for agreeing to visit me, monsieur. No one knocks at my door anymore, you know? All those fine people who danced at my ball and applauded my fireworks how avoid me as if I had the ranse . . . But I've long been accustomed to changes in fortune at court and I wait patiently to learn the fate in store for me. It will be exile, won't it?'

'Probably, yes.'

'And what about poor old Chateauneuf?'

'I doubt he will ever emerge from His Majesty's prisons.'

'Exile . . .' sighed the duchesse, her eyes lost in con-templation.

A lackey brought, upon a tray, a box covered with a piece of cloth. He stood there waiting patiently for his mistress to notice him.

'Ah!' she said at last. 'This is why I asked you to come see one. Take it, monsieur. It's for you.'

Intrigued, Laincourt picked up the box, but waited until the Lackey turned away before opening it.

It contained a letter — which was addressed to him - and a small painted portrait.

'The letter,' indicated madame de Chevreuse, 'is from nadame de Saint-Avoid who, for reasons you must be aware

of, has been obliged to return to her native Lorraine with all due haste.'

The portrait was also of Aude de Saint-Avoid. The same one the duchesse had commissioned in order to show her master of magic how much, if the upper part of her face were masked, the beautiful Aude resembled the queen: they had the same eyes, the same mouth, the same chin, the same throat.

'Please accept this gift from me, monsieur. For if I have many faults, above all I suffer from that of loving love.'

Laincourt accepted it, feeling moved.

Bells were ringing in the distance and the sound seemed to be drawing closer, but the Blade and the duchesse paid it no heed.

'Goodbye, monsieur de Laincourt. I doubt that we will meet again for a long time.'

'Goodbye, madame. But—'

'Yes, monsieur?'

'Would you agree to answer a question?'

'Is it a question the cardinal is asking through you?'

'No, madame.'

'Then I will answer.'

Laincourt took a breath and then asked:

'Why, madame? Why did you wish to help the queen to conceive a child? Your hatred of the cardinal is a secret to no one. And, for reasons that are strictly yours, you do not seem to like our king at all. And a throne without an heir means no end of pretenders and opportunists willing to scheme and rise up against your enemies. By favouring the birth of an heir apparent, you would have strengthened the throne and consolidated Louis' reign.'

The duchesse smiled.

'You forget, monsieur, the affection I have for the queen, and how painful it is for me to see her so unhappy and so often humiliated . . . And then there was that night when, as a game, I encouraged her to run through the Grande Salle at the Louvre. If not for me, she would not have tripped against the platform. If not for me, she would not have fallen. And if not for me, three days later she would not have lost the child she

was carrying. A boy, apparently . . . And while the queen forgave me, I never could forgive myself . . . So, when the man I believed to be a wise master of magic confided to me that he could . . .'

Overcome by emotion, she could not finish.

Then she exclaimed:

'Those bells are going to drive us all mad!'

To the bells ringing in the faubourgs, were now added several more in the neighbourhood of Saint-Thomas-du-Louvre.

It was both unusual and disquieting.

Laincourt lifted his eyes to the sky just as a great shadow passed overhead.

Leprat descended the great staircase in the Hotel de Treville when he suffered an attack. He was suddenly very hot, his vision blurred and, realising what was happening, he murmured:

'Oh, Lord! Not here . . .'

In a sweat, staggering, he bumped into a musketeer who was coming up the stairway, tried to grab hold of another and only managed to tear the man's sleeve as his legs gave way beneath him.

He tumbled to the bottom of the steps and lay there, convulsing.

A crowd gathered round him. A few men seized hold of his limbs to restrain them. They also attempted to slide a belt between his