This time the lady smiled again, but ironically.

“You are not clear-sighted, monsieur, in spite of your pretension to be an observer:  for, with a little sense, all that seems obscure to you would have been explained.  Was it not very natural that Madame de Montpensier should be interested in the fate of M. de Salcede, in what he might be tempted to say, what true or false revelations he might utter to compromise the house of Lorraine?  And if that was natural, monsieur, was it not also so, that this princess should send some one, some safe, intimate friend, to be present at the execution, and bring her all the details?  Well, monsieur, this person was I. Now, do you think I could go in my woman’s dress?  Do you think I could remain indifferent to what was going on?”

“You are right, madame; and now I admire as much your logic and talent as I did before your beauty.”

“Thank you, monsieur.  And now that we know each other, and that everything is explained, give me the letter, since it does exist.”

“Impossible, madame.”

The unknown seemed trying not to grow angry.  “Impossible?” repeated she.

“Yes, impossible; for I swore to M. de Mayenne to deliver it only to the duchesse herself.”

“Say, rather,” cried the lady, giving way to her irritation, “that you have no letter; that, in spite of your pretended scruples, it was a mere pretext for getting in here; that you wished to see me again, and that was all.  Well, monsieur, you are satisfied; not only you have effected your entrance, but you have seen me, and have told me you adore me.”

“In that, as in all the rest, I have told you truth, madame.”

“Well, so be it, you adore me; you wished to see me, and you have seen me.  I have procured you a pleasure in return for a service.  We are quits.  Adieu!”

“I will obey you, madame; since you send me away, I will go.”

“Yes,” cried she, now really angry, “but if you know me, I do not know you.  You have too much advantage over me.  Ah! you think you can enter, on some pretext, into the house of a princess, and go away and say, ’I succeeded in my perfidy.’  Ah! monsieur, that is not the behavior of a gallant man.”

“It seems to me, madame, that you are very hard on what would have been, after all, only a trick of love, if it had not been, as I have already told you, an affair of the greatest importance.  I put aside all your injurious expressions, and I will forget all I might have said, affectionate or tender, since you are so badly disposed toward me.  But I will not go out from here under the weight of your unworthy suspicions.  I have a letter from the duke for Madame de Montpensier, and here it is; you can see the handwriting and the address.”

Ernanton held out the letter to the lady, but without leaving go of it.

She cast her eyes on it, and cried, “His writing!  Blood!”

Without replying, Ernanton put the letter back in his pocket, bowed low, and, very pale and bitterly hurt, turned to go.  But she ran after him, and caught him by the skirt of his cloak.