His cheeks burnt like fire, and he would have found words to
apologize, but she cut him short by saying, hastily and low, 'Not a
word, Monsieur! Let us go through it at once. No one shall make
game of us.' He hardly durst look at her again; but as he went through his own
elaborate paces he knew that the little creature opposite was
swimming, bending, turning, bounding with the fluttering fierceness
of an angry little bird, and that the superb eyes were casting
flashes on him that seemed to carry him back to days of early
boyhood.
Once he caught a mortified, pleading, wistful glance that made him
feel as if he had inflicted a cruel injury by his thoughtless gaze,
and he resolved to plead the sense of recognition in excuse; but no
sooner was the performance over than she prevented all conversation
by saying, 'Lead me back at once to the Queen, sir; she is about to
retire.' They were already so near that there was no time to say
anything; he could only hold as lightly as possible the tiny
fingers that he felt burning and quivering in his hand, and then,
after bringing her to the side of the chair of state, he was forced
to release her with the mere whisper of 'Pardon, Mademoiselle;' and
the request was not replied to, save by the additional stateliness
of her curtsey.
It was already late, and the party was breaking up; but his head
and heart were still in a whirl when he found himself seated in the
ambassadorial coach, hearing Lady Walsingham's well-pleased
rehearsal of all the compliments she had received on the
distinguished appearance of both her young guests. Sidney, as the
betrothed of her daughter, was property of her own; but she also
exulted in the praises of the young Lord de Ribaumont, as proving
the excellence of the masters whom she had recommended to remove
the rustic clownishness of which he had been accused.
'Nay,' said Sir Francis; 'whoever called him too clownish for court
spake with design.'
The brief sentence added to Berenger's confused sense of being in a
mist of false play. Could his kinsman be bent on keeping him from
court? Could Narcisse be jealous of him? Mademoiselle de
Ribaumont was evidently inclined to seek him, and her cousin might
easily think her lands safer in his absence. He would have been
willing to hold aloof as much as his uncle and cousin could wish,
save for an angry dislike to being duped and cajoled; and,
moreover, a strong curiosity to hear and see more of that little
passionate bird, fresh from the convent cage. Her gesture and her
eyes irresistibly carried him back to old times, though whether to
an angry blackbird in the yew-tree alleys at Leurre, or to the
eager face that had warned him to save his father, he could not
remember with any distinctness. At any rate, he was surprised to
find himself thinking so little in comparison about the splendid
beauty and winning manners of his discarded spouse, though he quite
believed that, now her captive was beyond her grasp, she was
disposed to catch at him again, and try to retain him, or, as his
titillated vanity might whisper, his personal graces might make her
regret the family resolution which she had obeyed.