"Why should she?" Athenais demanded, "since but eight months ago we were at war with them!"
The lawyer coughed and replied discreetly: "The Queen is a law unto herself, Mademoiselle, and 'tis not always her pleasure to align herself with popular prejudice. In this case popular opinion is represented by many of the younger nobility, who served with Monsieur de la Fayette and the Count, your uncle, in the Americas. They found the way of life there much to their liking. They were greatly impressed by the free and easy manners, the sense of equality and the lack of restrictions on personal liberty, that are enjoyed by tile Americans. Who can blame them for desiring reforms which would bring about the same state of affairs in France? On the other hand there are many at Court who are strongly opposed to such reforms, as they feel that change would result in their having to sacrifice their ancient privileges. These last consider that our intervention on behalf of the Americans was a great mistake, since we aided them to defy their King and overthrow all established custom. Quite naturally they regard the English nobility who come to Versailles as the true representatives of law, order, and the countenance of a privileged caste. Therefore, headed by the Queen, they receive them with all friendliness and sympathy."
"The Queen is right then," declared Athenais promptly, "and my uncle wrong. Henceforth I'll take a better view of the English."
Maitre Leger made no comment, and there was a short silence before he said: "If Mademoiselle has no further use for my services to-night, may I beg leave to make my adieux?"
She nodded regally to him and, having promised Roger that he would endeavour to see Monsieur Fouché first thing in the morning, he bowed himself out of the room.
When he had gone they talked for a little, until Athenais put up her fan to hide a yawn, then announced her intention of going to bed.
Aldegonde was summoned and ordered to conduct Roger to a suitable chamber in which he could pass the night; and, having kissed the hand of his protectress, he followed the major-domo to a comfortable but plainly furnished room on the third floor of the mansion.
As he undressed he endeavoured to sort out his impressions. He was still badly shaken by the Doctor's death and his own precarious position, yet his thoughts never wandered for long from Athenais de Rochambeau.
She was, he knew, abominably spoilt and self-willed, but he attributed that entirely to her upbringing; and she possessed both courage and self-confidence—qualities which he greatly admired. But, beyond all, she was the most perfect expression of beauty that he had ever seen. The play of emotions on her face, and her every movement, were a joy to watch; and the strange mixture of child and woman that she embodied he found entirely fascinating. No other girl that he had met even remotely resembled her, and he knew now that he had never been in love with Georgina.
As he fell asleep his last thought was of the bright blue eyes and golden hair of Athenais, and he realised that he was already profoundly, desperately in love with her.
Yet neither his anxieties nor his new-found passion disturbed his slumbers, and he slept right on until one of the footmen called him by bringing his breakfast up to him on a tray. Except when ill of childhood complaints he had never had a meal in bed in his life, so he was considerably surprised at this, and he was not quite sure if he liked the custom; but it did not interfere with his appetite. He would have much preferred a good, meaty English breakfast to eat either upstairs or down, but he had to admit to himself that a petit dejeuner in the house of a French nobleman was not without its attractions. Instead of the simple rolls, butter and jam served at the inns where he had stayed, his tray was loaded with a pot of frothy chocolate, rolls with caraway seeds in them, feather-light brioches, crisp horseshoe croissants, honey, three kinds of confiture and a dish of fresh fruit.
Having tried them all he got up, dressed and went downstairs. A score of servants were sweeping and cleaning in the great apartments, and the yellow drawing-room proving untenable he descended to the hall, since he was anxious now to be on hand and learn Maitre Leger's news the moment the lawyer should arrive.
Aldegonde, appearing on the scene, seemed to regard his presence there with surprised disapproval, and when Roger asked him what time Mademoiselle de Rochambeau would be down he replied stiffly: "Mademoiselle is rarely visible before ten o'clock."
Since it was only just after eight, this was small comfort, and Roger found his wait a dreary business as he was compelled to hang about for the best part of an hour. But, at last, a bell jangled somewhere and one of the footmen, slipping on his coat, went to the front door.
When the man threw it open, to Roger's amazement, not only Maitre Leger, but also Monsieur Fouché, walked in.
"Good day to you. Monsieur Breuc," said the lawyer, as they bowed to one another; then, turning to Fouché, he added; "Would you be good enough to wait here while I have a word in private with my client."
Leaving Fouché he came over to Roger, led him further away into an embrasure behind two of the tall marble pillars, and said in a low voice:
"I think matters will arrange themselves satisfactorily, but that now largely depends upon yourself. The Court sits to inquire into the death of Doctor Fenelon in half an hour and if Monsieur Fouché and yourself tell the same story I doubt not that they will be satisfied and discharge you both. However, this desirable result depends on you both giving the same account of the way in which Doctor Fenelon met his death, and Monsieur Fouché has already stated to the police that the doctor committed suicide."
He paused for a moment then went on: "You will appreciate, I am sure, that it is not for me, a lawyer, to suggest that you should attempt to deceive the Court, but what you choose to say before the magistrates is entirely your own affair. Mademoiselle de Rochambeau has given me implicit instructions to save you from trouble if I can and while such a step is highly unorthodox, it occurred to me that the best hope of doing so lay in bringing Monsieur Fouché and yourself together for a private conversation before the Court opens. I need scarcely add that your interests in this matter are now absolutely identical. Namely that the whole affair should be dismissed without further inquiry. Do you consent to talk with him?"
"If you advise it, and 'tis unavoidable," Roger agreed with some reluctance.
"Very well, then; come this way."
Recrossing the hall, and beckoning to Fouché to join them, Maitre Leger led the pair into a lofty room which, from the rows of shelves filled with ledgers that lined its walls, looked like an office. Having ushered them in he closed the door behind him and left them together.
Fouché walked over to the wide fireplace, turned, and with his back to the carved mantel stood there for a moment, his hands clasped behind his back, then, without looking at Roger, he said:
"It has always been against my principles to make enemies needlessly. Your lawyer tells me that you are willing to compose this matter. If that is so, I am your man."
"I am naturally anxious to avoid being held for a lengthy period while an exhaustive investigation takes place," replied Roger frankly. "Yet I find it difficult to regard the murderer of my old friend as anything but an enemy."