CHAPTER V
THE FIRST TRICK
A shrill laugh suddenly broke on their ears. So absorbed had Lydiebeen in her dream that she had completely forgotten the other world,the one that laughed and talked, that fought and bickered on the otherside of the damask curtain which was the boundary of her own universe.
Gaston de Stainville, we may assume, was not quite so unprepared forinterruption as the young girl, for even before the shrill laugh hadexpended itself, he was already on his feet, and had drawn the damaskcurtain back again, interposing the while his broad figure betweenLydie d'Aumont and the unwelcome intruder on their privacy.
"Ah! at last you are tracked to earth, _mauvais sujet_," said Mme. dePompadour, as soon as the Comte de Stainville stood fully revealedbefore her. "Faith! I have had a severe task. His Majesty demandedyour presence a while ago, sir, and hath gone to sleep in the intervalof waiting. Nay! nay! you need make neither haste nor excuses. TheKing sleeps, Monsieur, else I were not here to remind you of duty."
She stood at the bottom of the steps looking up with keen, maliciouseyes at Gaston's figure framed in the opening of the alcove, andpeering inquisitively into the sombre recesses, wherein already shehad caught a glimpse of a white satin skirt and the scintillation ofmany diamonds.
"What say you, milady?" she added, turning to the florid, somewhatover-dressed woman who stood by her side. "Shall we listen to theexcuses M. de Stainville seems anxious to make; meseems they are cladin white satin and show a remarkably well-turned ankle."
But before Lady Eglinton could frame a reply, Lydie d'Aumont hadrisen, and placing her hand on Stainville's shoulder, she thrust himgently aside and now stood smiling beside him, perfectlyself-possessed, a trifle haughty, looking down on Jeanne dePompadour's pert face and on the older lady's obviously ill-humouredcountenance.
"Nay, Mme. la Marquise," she said, in her own quiet way, "M. le Comtede Stainville's only excuse for his neglect of courtly duties standsbefore you now."
"_Ma foi_, Mademoiselle!" retorted the Marquise somewhat testily. "HisMajesty, being over-gallant, would perhaps be ready enough to acceptit, and so, no doubt, would the guests of M. le Duc, yourfather--always excepting Mlle, de St. Romans," she added, with morethan a point of malice, "and she is not like to prove indulgent."
But Lydie was far too proud, far too conscious also of her own worth,to heed the petty pinpricks which the ladies of the Court of Louis XVwere wont to deal so lavishly to one another. She knew quite well thatGaston's name had oft been coupled with that of Mlle. de St.Romans--"_la belle brune de Bordeaux_," as she was universallycalled--daughter of the gallant Marechal just home from Flanders. Thisgossip was part and parcel of that multifarious scandal to which shehad just assured her lover that she no longer would lend an ear.
Therefore she met Mme. de Pompadour's malicious look with one ofcomplete indifference, and ignoring the remark altogether, she saidcalmly, without the slightest tremor in her voice or hint of annoyancein her face:
"Did I understand you to say, Madame, that His Majesty was tired anddesired to leave?"
The Marquise looked vexed, conscious of the snub; she threw a quicklook of intelligence to Lady Eglinton, which Lydie no doubt would havecaught had she not at that moment turned to her lover in order to givehim a smile of assurance and trust.
He, however, seemed self-absorbed just now, equally intent in avoidingher loving glance and Mme. de Pompadour's mocking gaze.
"The King certainly asked for M. de Stainville a while ago," hereinterposed Lady Eglinton, "and M. le Chevalier de Saint George hasbegun to make his adieux."
"We'll not detain Mlle. d'Aumont, then," said Mme. de Pompadour. "Shewill wish to bid our young Pretender an encouraging farewell! Come, M.de Stainville," she added authoritatively, "we'll to His Majesty, butonly for two short minutes, then you shall be released man, have nofear, in order to make your peace with _la belle brune de Bordeaux_.Brrr! I vow I am quite frightened; the minx's black eyes anon shotdaggers in this direction."
She beckoned imperiously to Gaston, who still seemed ill at ease, andready enough to follow her. Lydie could not help noting with a slighttightening of her heartstrings with what alacrity he obeyed.
"Men are so different!" she sighed.
She would have allowed the whole world to look on and to sneer whilstshe spent the rest of the evening beside her lover, talking foolishnonsense, planning out the future, or sitting in happy silence,heedless of sarcasm, mockery, or jests.
Her eyes followed him somewhat wistfully as he descended the two stepswith easy grace, and with a flourishing bow and a "_Mille graces_,Mlle. Lydie!" he turned away without another backward look, and becamemerged with the crowd.
Her master and future lord, the man whose lips had touched her own!How strange!
She herself could not thus have become one of the throng. Not justyet. She could not have detached herself from him so readily. For somefew seconds--minutes perhaps--her earnest eyes tried to distinguishthe pale mauve of his coat in the midst of that ever-changingkaleidoscope of dazzling colours. But the search made her eyes burn,and she closed them with the pain.
Men were so different!
And though she had learned much, understood much, with that firstkiss, she was still very ignorant, very inexperienced, and quite atsea in those tortuous paths wherein Gaston and Mme. de Pompadour andall the others moved with such perfect ease.
In the meanwhile, M. de Stainville and the Marquise had reached thecorridor. From where they now stood they could no longer see thealcove whence Lydie's aching eyes still searched for them in vain;with a merry little laugh Madame drew her dainty hand away from hercavalier's arm.
"There! am I not the beneficent fairy, you rogue?" she said, givinghim a playful tap with her fan. "Fie! Will you drive in doubleharness? You'll come to grief, fair sir, and meseems 'twere not goodto trifle with either filly."
"Madame, I entreat!" he protested feebly, wearied of the jest. But hetried not to scowl or to seem impatient, for he was loth to lose thegood graces of a lady whose power and influence were unequalled evenby Lydie d'Aumont.
Pompadour had favoured him from the very day of her first entry in thebrilliant Court of Versailles. His handsome face, his elegant manners,and, above all, his reputation as a consummate _mauvais sujet_ hadpleased Mme. la Marquise. Gaston de Stainville was never so occupiedwith pleasures or amours, but he was ready to pay homage to one morebeautiful woman who was willing to smile upon him.
But though she flirted with Gaston, the wily Marquise had no wish tosee him at the head of affairs, the State-appointed controller of hercaprices and of the King's munificence. He was pleasant enough as anadmirer, unscrupulous and daring; but as a master? No.
The thought of a marriage between Mlle. d'Aumont and M. de Stainville,with its obvious consequences on her own future plans, was not to betolerated for a moment; and Madame wondered greatly how far mattershad gone between these two, prior to her own timely interference.
"There!" she said, pointing to an arched doorway close at hand; "goand make your peace whilst I endeavour to divert His Majesty'sthoughts from your own wicked person; and remember," she addedcoquettishly as she bobbed him a short, mocking curtsey, "when youhave reached the blissful stage of complete reconciliation, that youowe your happiness to Jeanne de Pompadour."
Etiquette demanded that he should kiss the hand which she now heldextended toward him; this he did with as good a grace as he couldmuster. In his heart of hearts he was wishing the interfering ladyback in the victualler's shop of Paris; he was not at all prepared atthis moment to encounter the jealous wrath of "la Belle _brune deBordeaux_."
Vaguely he thought of flight, but Mme. de Pompadour would not let himoff quite so easily. With her own jewelled hand she pushed aside thecurtain which masked the doorway, and with a nod of her dainty headshe hinted to Gaston to walk into the boudoir.
There was nothing for it but to obey.
"Mlle. de Saint Romans," said the Marquise, peeping into
the room inorder to reassure herself that the lady was there and alone, "see, Ibring the truant back to you. Do not be too severe on him; hisindiscretion has been slight, and he will soon forget all about it, ifyou will allow him to make full confession and to do penance at yourfeet."
Then she dropped the curtain behind Gaston de Stainville, and, as anadditional precaution, lest those two in there should be interruptedtoo soon, she closed the heavy folding doors which further divided theboudoir from the corridor.
"Now, if milady plays her cards cleverly," she murmured, "she and Iwill have done a useful evening's work."
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