“And the name of this woman for whose sake you have got yourself into this dreadful mess?” “Ah, now you are asking me to tell something that I would not tell to anyone but yourself—it was Mademoiselle Fontrailles.” “Mademoiselle Fontrailles—why only yesterday——” “Yes?” “Well, I heard—it is said—but I don’t know how much truth there is in the story, that she is in love with Camus.” Rochefort laughed. “Camus again and Fate again.” “But there may be no truth in it. Some fool told me, I forget who, Joyeuse, I think. You know how stories run about Paris.” “It is true,” said Rochefort, “it is the only thing wanting to make the business complete. Whilst I have been tucked away at Vincennes, Monsieur Camus has improved his time. You know the way he has with women. Well, I do not care; that is to say about the girl, but I will make things even with Camus.” “First, my dear fellow, make things right with Choiseul, that is to say, if you can. And if I were you, I would not trouble about Camus or the girl. She will be punished enough if she has anything to do with him.” “Well, we will see,” said Rochefort. “We will see, when I have finished with Choiseul. Is he in Paris?” “No, he is at Versailles, but he is coming to Paris to-morrow, or rather to-day, since it is now nearly three o’clock in the morning. I know he is coming, simply because he has invited me to a reception at his house in the Faubourg St. Honoré.” “Ah, he is holding a reception. When?” “This very day at nine o’clock in the evening.” “Good. I will go to it.” “You will go to it—but he will arrest you!” “Not in his own house. I would be his guest.” “But you have not been invited, and so you would not be his guest.” “Well, my dear Chartres, you know how Choiseul always permits a friend of his to bring a friend to his receptions. You must take me with you.” “Take you with me! My dear fellow, you are asking what is quite impossible.” “Why?” “Why—well, to be frank with you, it is necessary for me to stand well with Choiseul, and if I were to do that I would damage my position at Court.” “What I like about you,” said Rochefort, “is your perfect frankness. Another man would have excused himself, said that he had already invited a friend, and so forth; but you state your own selfish reason, and that is precisely what I would have done in your place. Well, I can assure you that you will not damage your position in the least. First of all, I am going to make peace with Choiseul; secondly, if I fail, you can tell him that the whole fault was mine and that you understood from me that I had put myself right with him. I will bear you out in that. There is no danger to you, and think what fun it will be to see his face when I appear.” Chartres hung on this fascinating prospect for a moment. “All the same,” said he, “I think, in your own interests, you are wrong—the whole thing is mad.”