“Certainly,” replied la Peyrade; “when the Comtesse du Bruel takes it into her head to seriously obtain that bit of red ribbon, she can do so, in spite of all obstacles that are put in her way.” The countess received this assertion with a smile, and shook her head. “But, madame, only a day or two ago Madame du Bruel told Madame Colleville that the unexpected opposition she had met with piqued her, and that she meant to go in person to the minister.” “But you forget that since then this seizure has been made by the police; it is not usual to decorate a man who is summoned before the court of assizes. You seem not to notice that the seizure argues a strong ill-will against Monsieur Thuillier, and, I may add, against yourself, monsieur, for you are known to be the culprit. You have not, I think, taken all this into account. The authorities appear to have acted not wholly from legal causes.” La Peyrade looked at the countess. “I must own,” he said, after that rapid glance, “that I have tried in vain to find any passage in that pamphlet which could be made a legal pretext for the seizure.” “In my opinion,” said the countess, “the king’s servants must have a vivid imagination to persuade themselves they were dealing with a seditious publication. But that only proves the strength of the underground power which is thwarting all your good intentions in favor of Monsieur Thuillier.” “Madame,” said la Peyrade, “do you know our secret enemies?” “Perhaps I do,” replied the countess, with another smile. “May I dare to utter a suspicion, madame?” said la Peyrade, with some agitation. “Yes, say what you think,” replied Madame de Godollo. “I shall not blame you if you guess right.” “Well, madame, our enemies, Thuillier’s and mine, are--a woman.” “Supposing that is so,” said the countess; “do you know how many lines Richelieu required from a man’s hand in order to hang him?” “Four,” replied la Peyrade. “You can imagine, then, that a pamphlet of two hundred pages might afford a--slightly intriguing woman sufficient ground for persecution.” “I see it all, madame, I understand it!” cried la Peyrade, with animation. “I believe that woman to be one of the elite of her sex, with as much mind and malice as Richelieu! Adorable magician! it is she who has set in motion the police and the gendarmes; but, more than that, it is she who withholds that cross the ministers were about to give.” “If that be so,” said the countess, “why struggle against her?” “Ah! I struggle no longer,” said la Peyrade. Then, with an assumed air of contrition, he added, “You must, indeed, _hate_ me, madame.” “Not quite as much as you may think,” replied the countess; “but, after all, suppose that I do hate you?”