"Their predictions were fulfilled in every respect, Monsieur Lenet! They declared that within three days I should be a _father_ and _avenged_. They informed my brother's murderer that he would be punished within three days, and these things came to pass as they said; but----" "Tell me where these gypsies are?" "I do not know. I have not seen them since. But it remains for me to tell you----" "No. This is enough," said Monsieur Lenet, still maintaining his honeyed tone and smiling expression; "the cause has been heard. I believe you to be innocent; but you were ill-advised to conceal the fact. Suspicions will not easily be effaced; people will wonder as I do, why, instead of making public the chastisement of your brother's assassin as an act which did you honor, you concealed it as you would have done an ambuscade. I shall not be able to make Monsieur le Prince understand." At that point Bois-Doré was sorely tempted to interrupt the councillor by an indignant exclamation; for it was evident to him that that man, after claiming to have full powers in order to induce him to speak, pretended to be unable to absolve him himself, in order to sell him his influence. "I agree," he said, "that in concealing D'Alvimar's death I followed bad advice, which was entirely opposed to my own inclination. It was urged upon me that Monsieur le Prince was a devout Catholic and that I was accused of heresy----" "And that is true enough, my dear monsieur. You are considered to be a great heretic, and I do not deny that Monsieur le Prince is ill disposed toward you." "But you, monsieur, who seem to me to be less rigid in your ideas, and who declare that you have confidence in my words--may I not rely upon you to plead my cause and to bear witness in my behalf?" "I will do my utmost, but I will not answer for the result, so far as the prince is concerned." "What must I do, pray, to dispose him favorably toward me?" said the marquis, resolved to learn the terms of the bargain. "I cannot say," replied the councillor. "He has been told that you have in your household an Italian, a heretic of the worst sort, who, so it seems, may well be a certain Lucilio Giovellino, condemned at Rome as a believer in Giordano Bruno's detestable doctrines." The marquis turned pale: he had maintained his tranquillity in face of danger to himself; his friend's danger terrified him. "Do you admit it?" said the councillor, carelessly. "For my own part, I think that the poor devil was punished enough, and I wish him no other harm than what has already been inflicted on him. You can tell me everything. I will try to divert the prince's suspicions."