Pierre Pevel - By The Alchemist in the Shadows Page 0,78

did not fall perfectly; of bringing another necklace and, upon further thought, changing the earrings which simply wouldn't do.

Believing himself forgotten, Laincourt was seeking a discreet means of recalling his presence to mind when madame de Chevreuse, her back still turned, said:

'You must forgive me, monsieur, for receiving you so poorly.'

'Madame, if my visit is ill-timed—'

'Not at all, monsieur! Not at all ... ! Stay.'

Laincourt thus remained, and waited.

Now the great matter was the perfect tilt of the duchesse's hat, the finishing touch to a ritual whose importance the young man could only guess at and which he witnessed with a certain degree of embarrassment.

'You were spoken of very highly to me, monsieur.'

'I was?'

'Does the idea displease you?'

'Not at all, madame. But since I do not know who holds me in such good esteem as to speak—'

'Well then, first of all there is the duc. But it is true that my husband looks favourably upon any who come from Lorraine as he does. You are from Lorraine, are you not, monsieur?'

'In fact, I—'

'Yes, yes . . . However, it is monsieur de Chateauneuf above all who praises your merits . . .'

Charles de l'Aubespine, the marquis de Chateauneuf, was the kingdom's Keeper of the Seals, the highest-ranking figure in the State after the king and Cardinal Richelieu.

'Monsieur de Chateauneuf is one of my most excellent friends. Did you know that?'

With these words, and after a final glance in the mirror, the duchesse rose and turned to Laincourt.

He was immediately struck by her beauty, her tawny hair, her milky complexion, the flawless oval of her face, the sparkle of her eyes and the perfection of her carmine mouth. She had, moreover, an air of joyful boldness that was a provocation to the senses.

'But I must take my leave,' she said as if in regret. 'It has already been half an hour since the queen sent word that she wished to see me at the Louvre . . .' She extended her hand to be kissed. 'Come back this evening, monsieur. Or rather, no, come back tomorrow. That's it, tomorrow. At the same time. You will, won't you?'

Laincourt would have liked to reply, but she had already left him standing there.

She disappeared through a door, abandoning the young man in a cloud of powder and perfume, exposed to the somewhat mocking gazes of the chambermaids . . .

Upon his return from the Palais-Cardinal, La Fargue found Leprat exercising alone in the fencing room. The musketeer was practising lunges in particular in order to limber up the thigh which had been wounded a month earlier and still remained a little stiff. Wearing boots, breeches and a shirt, he was sweating and did not spare his efforts, sometimes pressing an imaginary attack, then stepping back into position and beginning the exercise all over again.

He broke off when he saw his captain enter.

'I need to speak with you, Antoine.'

'Of course.'

'In my office, please.'

Still catching his breath, Leprat nodded, re-sheathed his white rapier and grabbed a towel to wipe the sweat from his face and the back of his neck while La Fargue went into his private office. He joined the old gentleman there as he finished putting on his doublet and, with his brow still damp, he asked:

'What is it, captain?'

'Sit down.'

The musketeer obeyed and waited. Behind his desk, La Fargue appeared to be choosing his words, before he asked:

'How is your thigh?'

'It still causes me an occasional jolt of pain, but that's all.'

'That fight with the dracs was a bit of an ordeal, wasn't it?' the captain said, only half-jokingly.

'That it was,' agreed Leprat.

A silence fell, and stretched . . .

Until finally, the captain of the Blades announced gravely:

'I have a mission for you, Antoine. A particularly dangerous mission that you will be free to refuse once I have laid it all out for you. I would understand in that case. Everyone would understand . . .'

More intrigued than worried, the musketeer gazed back with narrowed eyes.

'But first of all, read this,' said La Fargue, holding out a handwritten sheet.

"What is it?'

'The transcription of the encoded letter we found on Gueret's body.'

Leprat frowned as he struggled to read Laincourt's handwriting.

The letter began with salutations addressed by Marie de Medicis to madame de Chevreuse. Then, in a pompous style, the queen mother assured the duchesse of her friendship and wished her success in all her endeavours, including 'certain affairs with respect to Lorraine'. She expressed a desire to be of assistance to her 'very dear