“That’s it,” said the cardinal, “that’s it.  You have an excellent memory, Milady.”

“But,” resumed she to whom the cardinal addressed this flattering compliment, “if, in spite of all these reasons, the duke does not give way and continues to menace France?”

“The duke is in love to madness, or rather to folly,” replied Richelieu, with great bitterness.  “Like the ancient paladins, he has only undertaken this war to obtain a look from his lady love.  If he becomes certain that this war will cost the honor, and perhaps the liberty, of the lady of his thoughts, as he says, I will answer for it he will look twice.”

“And yet,” said Milady, with a persistence that proved she wished to see clearly to the end of the mission with which she was about to be charged, “if he persists?”

“If he persists?” said the cardinal.  “That is not probable.”

“It is possible,” said Milady.

“If he persists—­” His Eminence made a pause, and resumed:  “If he persists—­well, then I shall hope for one of those events which change the destinies of states.”

“If your Eminence would quote to me some one of these events in history,” said Milady, “perhaps I should partake of your confidence as to the future.”

“Well, here, for example,” said Richelieu:  “when, in 1610, for a cause similar to that which moves the duke, King Henry IV, of glorious memory, was about, at the same time, to invade Flanders and Italy, in order to attack Austria on both sides.  Well, did there not happen an event which saved Austria?  Why should not the king of France have the same chance as the emperor?”

“Your Eminence means, I presume, the knife stab in the Rue de la Feronnerie?”

“Precisely,” said the cardinal.

“Does not your Eminence fear that the punishment inflicted upon Ravaillac may deter anyone who might entertain the idea of imitating him?”

“There will be, in all times and in all countries, particularly if religious divisions exist in those countries, fanatics who ask nothing better than to become martyrs.  Ay, and observe—­it just occurs to me that the Puritans are furious against Buckingham, and their preachers designate him as the Antichrist.”

“Well?” said Milady.

“Well,” continued the cardinal, in an indifferent tone, “the only thing to be sought for at this moment is some woman, handsome, young, and clever, who has cause of quarrel with the duke.  The duke has had many affairs of gallantry; and if he has fostered his amours by promises of eternal constancy, he must likewise have sown the seeds of hatred by his eternal infidelities.”

“No doubt,” said Milady, coolly, “such a woman may be found.”

“Well, such a woman, who would place the knife of Jacques Clement or of Ravaillac in the hands of a fanatic, would save France.”

“Yes; but she would then be the accomplice of an assassination.”