Pierre Pevel - By The Alchemist in the Shadows Page 0,7
sigh of restrained impatience.
'Madame, a short while ago you asked about my orders. Here they are: I am to hear you out and then report your words to His Eminence. So speak, madame. My men and I rode for ten hours, almost without a break, in order to meet you here, now. And I am anxious to leave again soon. Even in Artois, the Spanish climate does not suit my health . . .'
And having said this, he lifted his glass and drained it in a single gulp.
Then he added:
'I am listening, madame.'
Thoughtful for a moment, Alessandra watched the old gentleman who was proving so immune to her charms. She knew he found her ravishing, yet her beauty inspired him with no need to please her in return. It was unusual in a man, and merited further study.
Outside the storm continued to rage. The intervals between lightning flashes and the resulting thunder seemed to be diminishing.
'I see that you have a poor opinion of me, monsieur de La Fargue,' the young woman said in a provocative tone.
'My sentiment towards you is of no importance, madame.'
'Come now, captain. What do you think of me? In all frankness.'
La Fargue paused for a moment, aware that Alessandra was trying to control their conversation.
Then he said:
'I know that you are both intelligent and skilful, madame. But I also know that you are venal. And lacking in scruples.'
'So you don't believe I am capable of loyalty . . .'
'Only if you use the word in the plural form. Because your loyalties, madame, have been many in number. No doubt they still are, even if none of them will ever force you to act against your own interest.'
'So in short, you don't believe me worthy of confidence.'
'That's correct, madame.'
'And what if I were to tell you that I have some knowledge of a plot?'
La Fargue raised an eyebrow.
'I would ask you whom this plot threatens, madame.'
The pretty redhead smiled. She raised her glass to her charming lips, took a sip of wine, and then declared with utmost solemnity:
'I have knowledge of a plot, monsieur. A plot that threatens the throne of France and whose scale goes beyond anything you can conceive.'
The old captain gazed directly into Alessandra's eyes, which remained quite calm. She did not blink, not even when lightning struck so close that the inn shook.
'Do you have so much as a shred of proof to support your claim?' he asked.
'Obviously. However—'
'What?'
'However, I'm afraid I cannot proceed any further without some guarantees . . . from the cardinal.'
'What do you want?'
'I demand His Eminence's protection.'
La Fargue stared impassively at the young woman before rising to leave.
'Goodbye, madame.'
Alessandra leapt to her feet.
'Wait! Monsieur, wait!'
Was that a hint of fear in her eyes?
'I beseech you, monsieur . . . Do not take leave in this manner. Grant me just one more moment . . .'
La Fargue sighed.
'Is it truly necessary, madame, to inform you that the cardinal is as miserly in giving his protection as he is in giving his trust, that he only grants them to those who are deserving of them, or that you would need to provide much more than this if you wish to become one of their number? Come now, madame, think! Remember who you are! And ask yourself—'
At that moment a second dragonnet, identical to the first, entered by way of the missing plank at the window. Very
nervous, it shook its wings and emitted a series of piercing cries intended for its mistress.
She listened to them, and then spoke quickly:
'We must part now, captain. Riders are approaching along the same path by which you came. They shall be here soon, and it would be best if they did not find me.'
'Who are these riders?'
'You shall make their acquaintance soon enough. They are one of the reasons that press me to demand the cardinal's protection.'
'Abandon this foolish notion, madame. His Eminence will never—'
'Give him this.'
She removed a thick sealed letter from her sleeve and held it out to La Fargue.
'What is this?'
'Take this letter to the cardinal, monsieur. It contains ... It contains the shred of proof you just demanded . . . When the cardinal opens it, he will see I am not inventing tales but that the throne of France is truly under threat.'
They heard Almades call from below.
'Captain!'
La Fargue opened the chamber door a crack and saw the Spanish fencing master coming up the stairs at the far end of the corridor.