The Confusion

"You'll never appreciate how easy this is going to be compared to a typical poisoning," said Oyo

"Is it one of those that is absorbed through the skin?"

"No, but it smells bad."

"Then le duc will certainly notice it in a drink."

"Yes—but not in his food. You know of his peculiar tastes?"

"I know more than I should care to of that."

"This is what I mean when I say it is going to be easy for you. Normally an ingested poison must be tasteless, and such are frequently ineffective. This stuff is as deadly as it is foul—yet le duc will never notice it when it is mixed with a meal of rotten fish. All that you need to do is to find some way of getting into the private kitchen where his dreadful repast is prepared. This will not be a trivial matter—yet it will be much easier than the machinations most people must go through."

"Most poisoners, you mean…"

Oyo

Eliza reached out to pluck the phial from Oyo

"It is already too late—I must get ready."

"Soon, then."

"It can never be soon enough for me."

"People will talk, after it happens," said the Duchess. "Pay them no mind, and have patience. It is not whether this or that person believes you to be a murderer, or even can prove it, but whether they have the dignity necessary to level such an accusation."

BRITTLE DISJOINTED HOURS FOLLOWED. Monsieur le comte de Pontchartrain, and later the King himself, did not leave off sending messengers around to inquire as to the whereabouts of the duc d'Arcachon. For some reason these all wanted to speak to Eliza—as if she were expected to know things that the Duchess of Arcachon did not. This in no way simplified preparations for the soirée. Eliza had to get coiffed and dressed while holding at bay these inquisitive messengers, who, as the afternoon wore on, were of progressively higher rank. Finally, near dusk, a coach and four rattled into the court, and Eliza called out "Hallelujah!" She could not run to the window because a pair of engineers were braiding extensions into her hair; but someone else did, and disappointed them all by reporting that it was merely Étie

"He'll do," said, Eliza, "now they'll pester him instead of me."

But presently, word filtered up that Étie

So Eliza was pestered no further by messengers; but now Étie

"MADEMOISELLE, ALLOW ME THE HONOR of being the first to compliment your beauty—"

"I would prefer it if you were as keen to get out of my way as to hurl flattery at me, Monsieur le comte," said Eliza, brushing past d'Avaux. "I am on my way to speak with Étie

"I shall escort you," d'Avaux a

Such had been the vehemence of Eliza's passage that her skirts had bullwhipped around d'Avaux's ankles and his sword, and nearly upended him, but he had more aplomb than any ten other French diplomats, and so presently appeared on her arm, looking as perfectly composed as an embalmed corpse.

They were hurrying down a gallery that had been obstructed by servants balancing food-trays and carrying party-decorations; but when these saw the onrushing Count and Countess, they took shelter in the lees of pilasters or ducked into niches.

"I would be remiss if I failed to express to you, mademoiselle, my concern over the choices you have lately been making as to social contacts."

"What!? Who!? The de Lavardac family? Pontchartrain? Monsieur Rossignol?"

"It is precisely because you are so frequently seen in the company of these fine persons, that you must reconsider your decision to associate with the likes of Madame la duchesse d'Oyo

Now Eliza's free hand strayed to her waistband, for she had a sudden terror that the green phial would fall out and shatter on the floor and fill the gallery with a smell as foul as her intentions. It was such an obvious gesture that d'Avaux would have seen it, had he been facing her; but he was looking in another direction.

"Like it or not, monsieur, she is a fixture of Court, and I ca

"Yes, but to have private meetings with such a woman, as you have done three times in the last two months—"

"Who has been counting, monsieur?"

"Everyone, mademoiselle. That is my point. Even though you may be pure as snow—"

"Your sarcasm is rude."

"This is a rude conversation, being a hurried one. As I was saying, you might be as upright as de Maintenon herself. But if and when Monsieur le duc d'Arcachon dies—"

"How can you speak of this, on his birthday!?"

"One year closer to death, mademoiselle. And even if the ma

"Anyone can bandy accusations. Few have the dignity to make them count."

"Is that what Oyo

This left Eliza speechless for a turn; so d'Avaux continued: "I was born a count, you were made a countess; I am one of those few who can accuse you."

"You really are hideous."

"I accused you before, after you spied for the Prince of Orange; but you escaped trouble, because you were doing it for Madame, and because you paid. Now you are alone, and you have no money. I do not know who it is precisely that you mean to poison: perhaps the Duke, perhaps Étie