Petticoat Rule Part 35

But women were strange creatures, and jealousy their most autocratic master. Even his daughter whom he had thought so exceptional, so clever and so clear-headed, was not free from the weaknesses of her s.e.x.

"Methinks, my dear," he said kindly, "you have not acted as wisely as I should have expected. Madame de Stainville, on my honour, hath not wronged you so as to deserve a public affront, and Gaston himself only desired to serve you."

Monsieur le Duc must have raised his voice more than he intended, or else perhaps there had occurred quite suddenly in the crowd of sympathizers, that now stood in a dense group round Madame de Stainville, one of those inevitable moments of complete silence when angels are said to be fluttering round the room. Certain it is that Monsieur le Duc's words sang out somewhat loudly, and were heard by those whose names had been on his lips.

"Nay! I entreat you, Monsieur le Duc," came in light, bantering accents from Gaston de Stainville, "do not chide your fair daughter.

Believe me, we who have suffered most are not inclined to be severe.

As to me the psychology of Madame la Marquise's mood has been profoundly interesting, since it hath revealed her to the astonished gaze of her many admirers, as endowed with some of the weaknesses of her adorable s.e.x. Why should we complain of these charming weaknesses?

For though we might be very hard hit thereby, they are but expressions of flattery soothing to our pride."

The groups had parted somewhat as he spoke, leaving him face to face with Lydie, towards whom he advanced with an affected gait and mincing steps, looking at her with mocking eyes, whilst toying gracefully with the broad black ribbon that held his eyegla.s.s.

But Gaston's were not the only sarcastic glances that were levelled at Lydie. His fatuous innuendoes were unmistakable, and bore out the broader and more shameful accusation hurled by Irene. Lydie's own att.i.tude, her every action to-night, the expression of her face at this moment seemed to prove them true. She retreated a little as he advanced, and, doing so, she raised her head with that proud toss which was habitual to her.

Thus her eyes travelled swiftly across the room, and she saw her husband standing some distance away. She, too, like King Louis, wondered how much he had heard, how much he knew: and knowing all, what he meant to do. Instinctively when she caught sight of him, and then once more saw Gaston de Stainville drawing nearer to her, she remembered that warning which milor had given her that morning, and which she had thought so futile, anent the loathsome reptile that, once touched, would pollute for ever.

"Madame," said Gaston now, as he boldly approached her, "my friends here would tell me no doubt that, by every code of social honour, my duty is to punish you or someone who would represent you in this matter, for the affront done to my wife. But how can I do that since the offender is fair as well as frail? My desire is not to punish, but rather to thank you on my knees for the delicate compliment implied by your actions to-night. I knew that you honoured me by trusting in me,"

he added with obvious significance, "but I had not hoped to provoke such flattering jealousy in the heart of the most statuesque woman in France."

A t.i.tter went round the room. Gaston's att.i.tude seemed suddenly to have eased the tension, as of an impending tragedy, which had hung over the brilliant a.s.sembly for the last half hour. Monsieur le Comte was such a dreadful _mauvais sujet_ but so delightful in his ways, so delicately refined in his wickedness! He was quite right to take the matter lightly, and a murmur of approval followed the t.i.tter, at the tact with which he had lifted the load of apprehension from the minds of the company.

Madame la Marquise d'Eglinton was something of a fool to take the matter so thoroughly _au tragique_. No doubt the affairs of the Stuart prince would right themselves presently, and she certainly should have had more regard for her willing and obviously devoted accomplice.

He looked so superlatively elegant and handsome now, the younger women sighed whilst they admired him. He pointed his toe and held out his tricorne in the manner prescribed by fashion for the making of a bow, and it was most unfortunate that he was so suddenly stopped in the very midst of his graceful flourish by a quiet and suave voice which came immediately from behind him.

"I would not do that, were I in your red-heeled shoes, my good Stainville. A slip on this highly-polished floor is certain to be the result."

But even before the gentle echo of these blandly spoken words had penetrated to the further ends of the room, Monsieur le Comte de Stainville had measured his full length face downward on the ground.

His fall was so instantaneous that he had not the time to save himself with his hands, and he was literally sprawling now at Lydie's feet with arms and legs stretched out, his face having come in violent contact with the polished floor. Quite close to him Lord Eglinton was standing, laughing softly and discreetly and looking down on the prostrate and distinctly inelegant figure of the handsome cavalier.

A ripple of merry laughter followed this unexpected turn of events.

One or two spectators, who had stood quite close at the very moment that the catastrophe occurred, declared subsequently that milor had with a quick action of his foot thrown Monsieur de Stainville off his balance; the intense slipperiness of the parquet having merely done the rest.

Be that as it may, the laughter of necessity was prudently suppressed, for already Gaston had picked himself up and there was that in his face which warned all those present that the farce--such as it was--would prove the prelude to real and serious tragedy.

"There now," said Lord Eglinton blandly, "did I not warn you, Monsieur le Comte? Graceful flourishes are apt to be treacherous."

"Milor. . ." said Gaston, who was livid with rage.

"Hush--sh--sh," interrupted milor in the same even and gentle voice, "not in the presence of ladies. . . . An you desire, Monsieur le Comte, I'll be at your service later on."

Then he turned toward his wife, bowing low, but not in the least as Gaston de Stainville would have bowed, for he had inherited from his father all the stiffness of manner peculiar to the Anglo-Saxon race.

Thus at this moment he looked distinctly gauche, though not without dignity, as, his back slightly bent, his left arm outstretched, he waited until Lydie chose to place her hand on his sleeve.

"Your seconds, milor," shouted Gaston, who seemed quite unable to control himself, and who had to be distinctly and even determinedly held back by two of his friends from springing then and there at Lord Eglinton's throat.

"They will wait on yours to-night, Monsieur le Comte," replied _le pet.i.t Anglais_ affably. "Madame la Marquise, will you honour me?"

And Lydie took his arm and allowed him to lead her out of the room.

CHAPTER XXVIII

HUSBAND AND WIFE

Monsieur Achille was waiting in the vestibule of the Queen's apartments. As soon as Lord and Lady Eglinton appeared his majestic figure detached itself from the various groups of flunkeys, who stood about desultorily pending the breaking up of Her Majesty's Court; he had a cloak over his arm, and, at a sign from his master he approached and handed him the cloak which milor then placed round his wife's shoulders.

"Do you desire to sleep in Versailles to-night, Madame?" he asked, "my coach is below in case you wished to drive to Chateau d'Aumont."

"I thank you, milor," she said, "I would wish to remain in Versailles."

Then she added with a pathetic sigh of bitterness:

"My father would prefer it, I think. He is not prepared for my visit.

And I do not interfere with your lordship's arrangements. . . ."

"Not in the least, Madame," he rejoined quietly. "The corridors are interminable; would you like a chair?"

"No. . . . Let us walk," she said curtly.

Without further comment he once more offered her his arm. She took it and together they descended the monumental staircase and then turned along the endless, vast corridors which lead to the West Wing.

Monsieur Achille followed at a respectful distance, and behind him walked two flunkeys, also in the gorgeous scarlet and gold Eglinton livery, whilst two more bearing torches preceded Monsieur le Marquis and Madame, lighting them on their way.

On the way to the West Wing, milor talked lightly of many things: of Monsieur de Voltaire's latest comedy, and the quaint new fashion in headgear, of His Majesty the King of Prussia and of the pictures of Monsieur Claude Gelee. He joked about the d.u.c.h.esse de Pontchartrain's attempts at juvenility and Monsieur Crebillon's pretensions to a place among the Immortals. Lydie answered in monosyllables; she could not bring herself to speak, although she quite appreciated milor's desire to appear natural and unconcerned before his own lacqueys.

A great resolution was taking root in her mind, and she only wanted the privacy and the familiarity of her own apartments to put it into execution. Thus they reached the West Wing.

Arrived in the antechamber whence her rooms branched off to the right and milor's to the left, Lord Eglinton stopped, disengaged her arm from his and was about to bid her an elaborate good-night, when she said abruptly:

"May I speak with you privately and in your own study, milor?"

"Certainly, Madame," he replied seemingly a little astonished at her request.

He dismissed all the flunkeys with the exception of Monsieur Achille, who led the way through the reception rooms toward milor's private suite. Lord and Lady Eglinton followed in silence now. The rooms seemed strangely silent and deserted, ghostlike too, for there was no artificial light, and the moon peered in through the tall windows, throwing patches of pale mauve and weird, translucent greens on the parquet floor and the brocade coverings of the chairs.

In milor's study, Monsieur Achille lighted the candles in two ma.s.sive candelabra, which stood on the secretaire, then, at a nod from his master, he walked backward out of the room.

The heavy portiere fell back with a curious sound like a moan, and for the third time to-day husband and wife stood face to face alone. The gaucherie of his manner became at once apparent now: yet he seemed in no way bashful or ill as ease, only very stiff and awkward in his movements, as he drew a chair for her at a convenient angle, and when she had sat down, placed a cushion to her back and a footstool at her feet. He himself remained standing.

"I pray you sit, milor," she said with a quick sigh, that trembled as it escaped her lips, "and if I have not angered you beyond the bounds of your patience, I earnestly ask you to bear with me, for if I have been at fault I have also suffered much and . . ."

"Madame," he said quite gently if somewhat coldly, "might I entreat of you not to insist on this interview if it distresses you very much; as to a fault . . . on my honour, Madame, the very thought of self-accusation on your part seems to me wildly preposterous."