My perplexities
were increased by the belief that he would not have intervened in any
matter of small moment, and by the conviction, which grew upon me apace,
that while I stood idle before the hearth my dearest interests and those
of France were at stake.
"Michel," I said at last, addressing the _doyen_ of my secretaries, who
chanced to be a Provencal, "have you ever seen a boxwood fire?"
He replied respectfully, but with some show of surprise, that he had
not, adding that that wood was rendered so valuable to the turner by its
hardness that few people would be extravagant enough to use it for fuel.
I assented, and felt the more certain that the Jesuit's remark contained
a hidden meaning. The only other clue I had consisted in the apparent
mistake the father had made as to the king's residence, and this might
have been dropped from him in pure inadvertence. Yet I was inclined
to think it intentional, and construed it as implying that the matter
concerned the king personally. Which the more alarmed me.
I passed the day in great anxiety, but toward evening, acting on a
sudden inspiration, I sent La Trape, my valet, a trusty fellow who
had saved my life at Cahors, to the Three Pigeons, a large inn in the
suburbs, at which such travellers from North to South as did not wish to
enter the city were accustomed to change horses and sometimes to sleep.
Acquitting himself of the commission I had given him with his usual
adroitness, he quickly returned with the news that a traveller of rank
had passed through three days before, having sent in advance to order
relays there and at Essonnes.
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