Tired of wondering, Marianne let the answers to these questions wait. What she needed now was sleep so that she would be fresh and wide awake tomorrow evening to plead Jason's cause with the governor. That cause might not be easily won, because Richelieu's manner had cooled noticeably when she had summoned up courage to put her request. But at least the brief exchange had told her that Jason was actually here in the same town and that she would see him soon.
With her mind thus far at rest, she was able to respond pleasantly to Maître Ducroux's effusive welcome and his reiterated apologies for his own unwilling part in what he referred to as "the unfortunate incident." But it was with real delight that she found herself once more in her own room. A chambermaid had been busy there and everything had been set to rights, presumably while the proprietor awaited the verdict in the case.
When she opened her eyes late the following morning, the first thing she saw was a bunch of enormous roses by her bed. They were a wonderful shell pink and the scent was so strong that she took them in both hands and buried her nose in them. It was then she saw that beside them was a small package accompanied by a note sealed with the cross and chevrons of Richelieu in red wax.
The contents of the package came as no surprise. It was, of course, the diamond, elegantly done up in a gilt comfit box, and once again Marianne fell under the spell of the magnificent stone. It seemed to glow within the curtains of her bed with a magical radiance. But the note gave her even more to think about.
It contained no more than a dozen words above the governor's signature: "The most beautiful flowers, the most beautiful jewel, for the most beautiful…"
Yet the implication behind those twelve words was so agitating that she jumped out of bed and put on the first dress that came to hand, thrust her feet into a pair of slippers and, not even bothering to comb out the two thick plaits swinging at her back, rushed from the room, still clutching the gilt box and the note in one hand. She knew she had to talk to Jolival at once, even if it meant emptying a jug of water over him to wake him.
As she passed Madame de Gachet's room, she saw that the door was wide open and the room cleared of all that lady's personal belongings. She must have quitted the town as soon as it was light. But Marianne did not stop. She opened the adjoining door and walked in without pausing to knock.
The sight that met her eyes was a reassuring one. Seated at a table before the open window, wearing one of the loudly patterned dressing gowns that he affected, was the vicomte, engaged in eating his way systematically through the contents of an enormous tray. These ranged from some of Maître Ducroux's airy croissants to victuals considerably more substantial and included, besides the tall silver coffee pot, a brace of promisingly dusty bottles.
The vicomte appeared unperturbed by Marianne's tumultuous entrance. He beamed at her with his mouth full and pointed to a small chair.
" You seem to be in rather a hurry," he remarked when he could speak. "I do hope nothing else disastrous has occurred?"
"No, no—at least, I don't think so. But tell me first how you are feeling."
"As well as anyone can feel with a head like this," he said, taking off his nightcap and revealing an empurpled lump the size of a small egg with a cut across the middle of it in the center of his bald pate. "I'd best be careful how I take my hat off for the next few days if I don't want to attract too much attention from the barbarians who inhabit these parts. Would you like some coffee? You look to me as if you'd got up in a hurry without waiting for any breakfast. And while we're on the subject, are you going to show me what it is you're clutching to your heart?"
"These!" Marianne said, laying them before him. "I want to know what you think of this note."
The aroma of coffee filled the room as Jolival went on calmly filling her cup. Then he read the note, drank a glass of wine, returned his nightcap to his head and settled back into his chair, waving the sheet of paper gently.
"What I think?" he said after a moment. "Upon my word, what any fool would think! That His Excellency was very much taken with you."
"And doesn't that worry you at all? Have you forgotten I am to dine with him tonight—and alone, because I don't recall hearing him invite you also?"
"Quite right, from which I deduce that he was not equally taken with me. But I don't think you need worry, because even if I am not there your godfather is sure to be present. In any case, you are bound to hear from him during the day and I believe that this is one occasion when he will be much better able to advise you than your Uncle Arcadius because he knows the duke. Your godfather is a very remarkable man—and one I'd very much like to know more of. You have often talked of him, my dear, but I had no idea he'd risen to such power."
"Nor I! Oh, Jolival, I can tell you—there are times when, for all his great kindness to me, my godfather makes me uneasy. He almost frightens me. He is so mysterious. And it is his very power, as you say, that scares me. There seems no end to it. I thought I knew him, you see, and yet every time I see him there is something more that is new to me."
"There's nothing odd in that. You knew someone who stood to you in place of your father and mother, a little priest who gave you an unvarying affection. But you were a child and naturally you did not see the whole picture of the man."
"It was natural when I was a child, yes. But not now. And yet the older I get, the deeper grow the shadows that surround him."
She described as best she could all that had taken place in the commandant's office before Jolival's entrance, endeavoring to recall the exact words used and dwelling on the curious moment when Richelieu had capitulated instantly at the sight of the cardinal's ring, and on the words "the general" which had escaped him.
Jolival stiffened as she uttered them.
"He said the general? You are quite sure?"
"Positive. And I must say I didn't understand it at all. What do you think he meant? I know it is a title sometimes given to the head of a monastic order, but my godfather has never been a monk. He has always been in the world…"
She saw that Jolival was not listening to her. He said nothing, but the look on his face was all at once so grave and so remote that she dared not break in on his thoughts. His breakfast forgotten, he took the little gilt box and opened it, holding the diamond between his fingers so that it blazed like a drop of fire in the sunshine. For a long moment he let the light play on it in blue flashes, as though seeking to hypnotize himself.
"So much suffering! So much pain and tragedy for the sake of this little bit of carbon and a few more like it. Of course," he went on, "that would explain it all—even the way the cardinal seemed to be protecting that wretched woman, although neither you nor I could understand it at the time. But the ways of the Lord are very strange. And stranger still those of men such as these, to whom secrecy is second nature."
However, Marianne had had enough of the atmosphere of mystery which had surrounded her for the past twenty-four hours.
"Arcadius," she said firmly, "I am wholly lost. Do, please, try to be a little clearer. Tell me in plain words what it is you think. Who is my godfather and what is he general of?"
"Of shadows, Marianne… of shadows. Unless I am very much mistaken, he is at this moment the supreme head of the Company of Jesus, the leader of the most formidable army of Christ. He is the one who is called fittingly enough, the Black Pope."