“We will meet somewhere,” said Léonie. “I know! Under the big palm over there, at—at ten minutes past eleven!” She twinkled. “That is like an adventure!”
“Mademoiselle, I shall be there!” Condé promised, laughing.
Fanny stepped forward.
“My brother’s ward, m’sieur. M. de Brionne, Léonie.”
Léonie set down her glass, rose, and curtsied. Her brow was wrinkled. Inexorably Fanny bore Condé away.
“Mademoiselle looks worried?” De Brionne gave her her glass again.
She turned to him, and smiled engagingly.
“M’sieur, I am very stupid. I cannot remember who you are!”
De Brionne was taken aback for a moment. It was not thus that young ladies were wont to address the son of Louis de Lorraine. But he could not resist the fascination of Léonie’s eyes. Moreover, where Condé had been pleased De Brionne would certainly not be affronted. He returned the smile.
“You are new come to Paris, mademoiselle?”
She nodded.
“Yes, m’sieur. Now let me think. I know! You are the son of the Comte d’Armagnac—M. le Grand!”
The Comte was much amused. It was probable that he had never before met a lady who pondered thus naďvely over his genealogy. He settled down to enjoy himself, and found that he was required to name most of the people who passed, for Léonie’s edification.
“Voyons, m’sieur, you know everybody!” she said presently. “You are being very useful to me. Now tell me who it is dancing with Monseigneur?”
“Monseigneur?”
“Yes, the Duc—my—my guardian.”
“Oh—! That is Madame du Deffand.”
“Truly?” Léonie regarded the lady intently. “She amuses him, I think.”
“She is a very amusing lady,” said De Brionne gravely. “Did Condé point our notables out to you?”
“No—no.” Léonie dimpled. “We found such a lot of other things to talk about, m’sieur. He told me about duels, and what it is like to be a royal prince.”
De Brionne began to laugh.
“Did you ask him, mademoiselle?”
“Yes, m’sieur,” said Léonie innocently.
In the doorway Fanny was curtsying low to the Duc de Penthičvre, who had just arrived. He kissed her hand with pretty gallantry.
“My dear Lady Fanny! One was bouleversé when one learned of the return of the so charming Lady Fanny!”
“Ah, m’sieur!” She smiled, and spread out her fan.
Avon came up with Madame du Deffand on his arm.
“My dear Penthičvre, I am rejoiced to see you.”
“Mon cher Duc! Madame, votre serviteur.” He swept a bow. “Tell me, Alastair, where is this ward one hears tell of?”
“My ward . . . let me see, she was with De Brionne a moment ago. No, she is dancing now with my brother. In white, with the rose in her hair.”
De Penthičvre looked across the room to where Léonie was circling gracefully with Rupert. Their hands were held high, her foot was pointed, and she was laughing.
“So!” said de Penthičvre. “Our debutantes will tear their powdered locks, Duc!”
The rooms grew more crowded. Some time later Lady Fanny, proceeding to the refreshment room, met her husband in the hall, and said radiantly:
“My dearest love, what a success! Have you seen the child? De Penthičvre has danced with her, and Condé! Where’s Justin?”
“Gone into the little salon. You’re satisfied, sweet?”
“Satisfied! Paris will talk of naught but this ball and Léonie for weeks to come! I shall keep them talking, I promise you!” She hurried away to the refreshment room, found it crowded, with Léonie the centre of a delighted and admiring group. Fanny took a forlorn lady under her wing, and bore her off in search of a cavalier.
In the card-room they discussed the Duke’s latest whim.
“Mon Dieu, Davenant, but what a beauty! What colouring! What wonderful eyes!” cried Lavoulčre. “Who is she?”
The Chevalier d’Anvau cut in before Hugh could reply.
“Ah, he is proud of her, is Satanas! One sees it clearly.”
“He has reason,” remarked Marrignard, toying with a dice-box. “She has not only beauty, but also espiéglerie! I was amongst the fortunate who obtained her hand. Condé is greatly épris.”
The Chevalier looked at Hugh.
“She is like someone. I cannot think who it may be. I have racked my brains, but it eludes me.”
“Yes, it is true,” nodded Lavoulčre. “When I set eyes on her it came to me in a flash that I had met her before. Is it possible that I have done so, Davenant?”
“Quite impossible,” Hugh said fervently. “She has but just come from England.”
Madame de Marguéry, playing at lansquenet at an adjacent table, looked up.
“But she is French, surely? Who were her parents?”
“I do not know, madame,” said Hugh with truth. “As you know, Justin is never communicative.”
“Oh!” Madame cried. “He loves to make a mystery! It is to intrigue us all! The child is quite charming, and well-born, of course. That naďve innocence should make her success assured. I would my daughters had it.”
Meanwhile Lady Fanny had sent Rupert to extricate Léonie from the refreshment room. She came back on my lord’s arm, and chuckled gleefully.
“Madame, M. le Prince says I have eyes like stars, and another man said that a shaft from my eyes had slain him, and——”
“Fie, child!” said my lady. “Never tell me all that here! I am going to present you to Madame de la Roque. Come!”
But at midnight Léonie escaped from the ballroom, and wandered into the hall. Condé, coming from one of the other salons, met her there.
“The little butterfly! I went to look for you, mademoiselle, and could not find you.”
Léonie smiled upon him.
“Please, have you seen Monseigneur, m’sieur?”
“A dozen monseigneurs, little butterfly! Which one do you want?”
“My own Monseigneur,” said Léonie . “The Duc of Avon, of course.”
“Oh, he is in the farthest salon, mademoiselle, but shall not I do as well?”
She shook her head.
“But no, m’sieur. I want him.”
Condé took her hand, and smiled down at her.
“You are unkind, Fairy Princess! I thought you liked me just a little?”
“Yes, I do. I like you very much,” Léonie assured him. “But now I want Monseigneur.”
“Then I’ll fetch him for you at once,” Condé said gallantly.
“But no! I will go to him, m’sieur. You take me!”
Condé presented his arm promptly.
“Now you are a little kinder, mademoiselle! Is this monseigneur going to bring you to Versailles, I wonder?”
“Yes, I think so. Will you be there? Please do, m’sieur!”
“Of a certainty I shall be there. Then, at Madame de Longchamps’ rout I shall meet you, surely?”
“I do not know,” she said. “I think I am going to a great many routs, but Monseigneur has not told me which ones yet. Oh, there he is!” She released Condé’s arm, and ran forward to where his Grace was standing. “Monseigneur, I have been looking for you. The Prince brought me. Thank you very much, m’sieur!” She held out a friendly hand. “Now you will go and dance with—with—oh, with somebody! I do not know the names!”
Condé kissed the small hand.
“You will bring her to court, Duc?”
“To the levée next week,” said his Grace.
“Then I am satisfied,” Condé said, bowed, and left them.
The Duke looked down at his ward in some amusement.
“You dismiss Royalty very summarily, Babe.”
“Oh, Monseigneur, he is quite young, and very like Rupert! He did not mind, do you think?”