“I need not explain more clearly, madame; I need not urge my motives nor dwell upon my own self-sacrifice. It is sufficient for the Abbé to see his peerless cousin set out on her journey to fame, and to feel that he has indicated the shortest path. There are obstacles, no doubt; but for what purpose do obstacles exist save to be surmounted or swept away? Let us take them as they come. I can count them all on the fingers of my hand.” The Abbé began systematically at his thumb. “The young King and Madame d’Orleans are already disposed of, or, at worst, soon will be, in the common course of events. Remain—the _roués_—Madame de Sabran, and Madame Parabére. Of these, I can manage the first without assistance. I have influence with the whole gang. Some may be persuaded, others intimidated, all can be bribed. I anticipate no opposition worth speaking of from the male element, fond of pleasure, fond of wine, and embarrassed as they are good for nothing. With the last two it is different. Madame de Sabran is witty, handsome, and well-bred; but she spares no person, however exalted, in her sarcasm, and the Regent fears her tongue while he is oppressed with her society. One or two more of her cutting sayings, and she will sever the cord, already frayed very thin, by which she holds on to fortune. Then she becomes but yesterday’s _bouquet_, and we need trouble ourselves no more with _her_! Exit Madame de Sabran. Enter—whom shall we name, my beautiful cousin? Whoever it is will have it in her power to become Queen of France. Now there is only Madame de Parabére left; but alas! she is the most dangerous and the most powerful of all. It is against _her_ that I must ask you, madame, to lend me your assistance.” “Mine!” repeated the Marquise, half surprised and half unwilling, though with no especial liking for the lady in question. “Mine! what can I do?” “Much,” replied Malletort, earnestly. “Indeed, everything! Yet, it is very little I will ask you to undertake, though it must eventually lead to the greatest results. Listen. The Regent, while he has confessed to me over and over again that he grows weary of Madame de Parabére, is yet fascinated by her beauty—the beauty, after all, of a baby-face with a skin like cream. Such beauty as even the devil must have possessed when he was young. She has neither wit, nor grace, nor intellect, nor form, nor even features. But she has her _skin_, and that I must admit is wonderfully clear and soft. This attraction possesses some incredible fascination for the Duke. If she went out in the sun to-morrow and came home tanned, _adieu_ to her power for ever! I cannot make her go out in the sun, but I think if you will help me I can arrange that she shall become tanned—aye, worse than tanned, speckled all over like a toad. Do you remember once when they praised your beauty at the late King’s dinner, she said, ‘Yes, you were very well for a mulatto?’”