“When I proposed to you an enterprise which was not exempt from blame to timid minds,” he replied, audaciously, “I had only your own prosperity in view. As for me, whether I succeed or fail, I can make all results further my ends. If you marry Montauran, I shall be delighted to serve the Bourbons in Paris, where I am already a member of the Clichy club. Now, if circumstances were to put me in correspondence with the princes I should abandon the interests of the Republic, which is already on its last legs. General Bonaparte is much too able a man not to know that he can’t be in England and in Italy at the same time, and that is how the Republic is about to fall. I have no doubt he made the 18th Brumaire to obtain greater advantages over the Bourbons when it came to treating with them. He is a long-headed fellow, and very keen; but the politicians will get the better of him on their own ground. The betrayal of France is another scruple which men of superiority leave to fools. I won’t conceal from you that I have come here with the necessary authority to open negotiations with the Chouans, _or_ to further their destruction, as the case may be; for Fouche, my patron, is deep; he has always played a double part; during the Terror he was as much for Robespierre as for Danton--” “Whom you basely abandoned,” she said. “Nonsense; he is dead,--forget him,” replied Corentin. “Come, speak honestly to me; I have set you the example. Old Hulot is deeper than he looks; if you want to escape his vigilance, I can help you. Remember that he holds all the valleys and will instantly detect a rendezvous. If you make one in Fougeres, under his very eyes, you are at the mercy of his patrols. See how quickly he knew that this Chouan had entered your house. His military sagacity will show him that your movements betray those of the Gars--if Montauran loves you.” Mademoiselle de Verneuil had never listened to a more affectionate voice; Corentin certainly seemed sincere, and spoke confidingly. The poor girl’s heart was so open to generous impressions that she was on the point of betraying her secret to the serpent who had her in his folds, when it occurred to her that she had no proof beyond his own words of his sincerity, and she felt no scruple in blinding him. “Yes,” she said, “you are right, Corentin. I do love the marquis, but he does not love me--at least, I fear so; I can’t help fearing that the appointment he wishes me to make with him is a trap.” “But you said yesterday that he came as far as Fougeres with you,” returned Corentin. “If he had meant to do you bodily harm you wouldn’t be here now.”