It was with politics, however, that Clorinde*s mind was
chiefly occupied. Since she had married Delestang, her brain
had been busy with deep and intricate matters, of which no
one knew the importance. She found in them, however, a
means of satisfying her craving for intrigue, which had so
long found scope in her attempts to ensnare those whom she
thought to be coming men ; and she seemed to be preparing
herself in this way for some yet greater schemes which she
had in contemplation. She kept up a regular correspondence
with her mother, who was now settled at Turin ; and went
almost every day to the Sardinian legation, where Chevalier
Busconi took her apart, and talked to her in low tones. Then
too she went on mysterious errands to all parts of Paris,
making furtive visits to great personages, and keeping
appointments in the most out-of-the-way places. All the
Venetian refugees, the Brambillas, and the Staderinos, and
tiie Yiscardis, came to see her secretly, and gave her scraps
of paper covered with memoranda. She had bought a large
red morocco case, a genuine ministerial portfolio with a steel
lock, and in it she stowed away a wonderful collection of
documents. When she drove out, she kept it on her knees
like a muff; and wherever she called she carried it about with
her under her arm ; and she might even be met early in the
morning, on foot, clasping it against her breast with both her
hands. The case soon began to look worn, and it split at
the seams. Then she buckled straps round it. And ever
laden as she was with this shapeless leather case bursting



136 HIS EXCELLENCY

with papers, she looked like some money-grabbing solioitof
running from one police-court to another in the hope of
picking up a petty fee.
