‘What are you, a nincompoop? She was Nicholas’s wife, of course. He will have it that I’ve taken leave of my senses. Come home alone. I have very few friends in Paris. Plots were hatched in the provinces, where many of the old and wealthy Catholic families resided, whose zeal for the martyr of their religion (as the Chevalier was esteemed), sharpened by the persecutions they themselves endured, rendered them hearty and efficient allies. As the novel grew Ruth was astonished to see herself enter and dominate it: sometimes as she actually was, with all her dreams reviewed—as if he had caught her talking in her sleep. ‘There’s a surgeon on his way, and my men are under orders to do whatever is needful.
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