“I have little doubt,” replied the advocate, taking the damsel’s hand, and raising it to his lips with an air of gallantry, “that this soft hand has been pressed before to-day, but if a grave man in years, like myself, were to repeat the foolish things that were said over it, as for instance, that to press such a treasure to my lips, were overpaying me for all the secrets I disclosed, I have little doubt that for me to say so, would look very silly! You blush, Marguerite, it is very hard to deceive an old advocate, our profession is learned in the world’s ways. But beware, Mademoiselle! beware! danger lurks in the precincts of courts.” “Has Monsieur faith in my discretion?” asked Marguerite, smiling through her blushes. “I have,” replied Giraud with earnestness, “and I am about to afford such proof of it, as might with many men rank me as one capable of acting with deliberate folly.” He then informed Marguerite, what had not before struck her, that in attacking Fontrailles, he ran risk in many shapes, even of personal danger; he might lose his life in bearding the count in his own hotel. Every species of menace and intimidation would be undoubtedly employed to silence one armed, like the advocate, with documents threatening ruin; these failing, personal violence might be resorted to. “Nay, Marguerite! look not so pale,” said Giraud, whose language had awakened extreme terror in the maiden, “I am a bachelor, and my life would be well lost in defending a just cause—but the count, I believe, would venture on a different system, though equally desperate. It appears your unknown friend confirms what we have all surmised respecting these papers, and when I acknowledge possession he will, I have reason to fear, avail of some scheme of villany to dispossess me. No means, however reckless, will he fail of using. If I loose the proofs of his treachery my weapon is broken—and then farewell the cause of De Pontis!” “And how is this to be avoided? O! go not near such a man!” cried Marguerite, distressed and alarmed. The advocate laughed at her fears. He knew, he said, whom he had to deal with too well to venture into the arena of conflict unprepared. That he might not be deprived by force of the documents, it were necessary that they should no longer remain in his custody—nor would he meet the count till he knew they were in the hands of a party who would still hold them _in terrorem_ over Richelieu’s favorite, should he, Giraud, be kidnapped, thrown into prison, or otherwise disposed of. And that his safety might rest on securer footing, he should take especial care to let Fontrailles understand that whatever became of the humble advocate the haughty noble had not removed one iota of the peril which menaced himself.