“The Comte de Rochefort! Why, it was he who carried me off!”
“That may be, Madame!”
“And you receive silver from that man?”
“Have you not said that that abduction was entirely political?”
“Yes; but that abduction had for its object the betrayal of my mistress, to draw from me by torture confessions that might compromise the honor, and perhaps the life, of my august mistress.”
“Madame,” replied Bonacieux, “your august mistress is a perfidious Spaniard, and what the cardinal does is well done.”
“Monsieur,” said the young woman, “I know you to be cowardly, avaricious, and foolish, but I never till now believed you infamous!”
“Madame,” said Bonacieux, who had never seen his wife in a passion, and who recoiled before this conjugal anger, “Madame, what do you say?”
“I say you are a miserable creature!” continued Madame Bonacieux, who saw she was regaining some little influence over her husband. “You meddle with politics, do you—and still more, with cardinalist politics? Why, you sell yourself, body and soul, to the demon, the devil, for money!”
“No, to the cardinal.”
“It’s the same thing,” cried the young woman. “Who calls Richelieu calls Satan.”
“Hold your tongue, hold your tongue, Madame! You may be overheard.”