“I agreed, for I could act even if I might not speak. So I gave my word. Then he told me that if those letters were not put into his hands, La Pompadour would be enraged, and fretful and hesitating now, would join Austria against England, since in this provincial war was convenient cue for battle. If I gave the letters up, she would not stir, and the disputed territory between us should be by articles conceded by the French.
“I thought much and long, during which he sat smoking and humming, and seeming to care little how my answer went. At last I turned on him, and told him I would not give up the letters, and if a war must hang on a whim of malice, then, by God’s help, the rightness of our cause would be our strong weapon to bring France to her knees.
“‘That is your final answer?’ asked he, rising, fingering his lace, and viewing himself in a looking-glass upon the wall.
“‘I will not change it now or ever,’ answered I.
“‘Ever is a long time,’ retorted he, as one might speak to a wilful child. ‘You shall have time to think and space for reverie. For if you do not grant this trifle you shall no more see your dear Virginia; and when the time is ripe you shall go forth to a better land, as the Grande Marquise shall give you carriage.’
“‘The Articles of Capitulation!’ I broke out protestingly.
“He waved his fingers at me. ‘Ah, that,’ he rejoined--‘that is a matter for conning. You are a hostage. Well, we need not take any wastrel or nobody the English offer in exchange for you. Indeed, why should we be content with less than a royal duke? For you are worth more to us just now than any prince we have; at least so says the Grande Marquise. Is your mind quite firm to refuse?’ he added, nodding his head in a bored sort of way.
“‘Entirely,’ said I. ‘I will not part with those letters.’
“‘But think once again,’ he urged; ‘the gain of territory to Virginia, the peace between our countries!’
“‘Folly!’ returned I. ‘I know well you overstate the case. You turn a small intrigue into a game of nations. Yours is a schoolboy’s tale, Monsieur Doltaire.’
“‘You are something of an ass,’ he mused, and took a pinch of snuff.
“‘And you--you have no name,’ retorted I.
“I did not know, when I spoke, how this might strike home in two ways or I should not have said it. I had not meant, of course, that he was King Louis’s illegitimate son.