Others tried to make love to Léonie, whereat she was angry, and turned a cold shoulder on their enthusiasms. She could be dignified when she chose, and her admirers were speedily abashed. Learning of their discomfiture one evening when she was helping Léonie to dress, Lady Fanny forgot herself, and exclaimed:
“Oh, splendidly done, my love! What a duchess you will make, to be sure!”
“A duchess, madame?” Léonie said. “How could I be that?”
Lady Fanny looked at her, and then at a new bracelet that lay on the table.
“Don’t tell me you don’t know, puss!”
Léonie was trembling now.
“Madame——!”
“Oh, my dear, he’s head over ears in love with you, as all the world must know! I have watched it grow, and—my dearest life, there is no one I would sooner have for my sister than you, I do assure you!”
“Madame, you—you must be mistaken!”
“Mistaken? I? Trust me to read the signs, my love! I have known Justin many years, and never have I seen him as he is now. Silly child, why does he give you all these jewels?”
“I—I am his ward, madame.”
“Pooh!” My lady snapped her fingers. “A fig for that! Tell me why he made you his ward?”
“I—I do not know, madame. I—did not think.”
My lady kissed her again.
“You will be a duchess before the year is out, never fear!”
Léonie pushed her away.
“It’s not true! You shall not say these things!”
“Why, here’s a heat! Is there ever a man you have liked as you like ‘Monseigneur’?”
“Madame——” Léonie pressed her hands together. “I am very ignorant, but I know—I have heard what people say when such as Monseigneur wed—wed ladies of no birth. I am only a tavern-keeper’s sister. Monseigneur could not marry me. I—I had not thought of it.”
“’Tis I who am a fool to have put the idea into your head!” said Fanny remorsefully.
“Madame, I beg you will not say it to anyone.”
“Not I, child, but everyone knows that you have Avon in your toils.”
“I have not! I hate you when you talk like that!”
“Oh, my dear, we are but two women! What matter? Justin will count no cost, believe me. You may be born as low as you please, but will he care once he looks into your eyes?”
Léonie shook her head stubbornly.
“I know I am not a fool, madame. It would be a disgrace for him to marry me. One must be born.”
“Fiddle, child! If Paris accepts you without question shall not Avon too?”
“Madame, Monseigneur has no love for those who are low-born. Many, many times I have heard him say so.”
“Never think of it, child.” Lady Fanny wished that she had not allowed her tongue to run away with her. “Come, let me tie your ribands!” She bustled about Léonie, and presently whispered in her ear: “My sweet, do you not love him?”
“Oh, madame, madame, I have always loved him, but I did not think—until you made me see——”
“There, child, there! Do not cry, I implore you! You will make your eyes red.”
“I do not care about my eyes!” said Léonie, but she dried her tears, and permitted Lady Fanny to powder her face again.
When they went downstairs together Avon stood in the hall, and the sight of him brought the colour to Léonie’s cheeks. He looked at her closely.
“What ails you, infant?”
“Nothing, Monseigneur.”
He pinched her chin caressingly.
“It is the thought of your princely admirer that makes you blush, ma fille?”
Léonie recovered herself at this.
“Ah, bah!” she said scornfully.
Condé was not present at Madame de Vauvallon’s rout that night, but there were many others who had come to see Léonie, and not a few who had come early in the hope of securing her hand for a dance. Avon arrived late, as ever, and Madame de Vauvallon, who had no daughters of marriageable age, greeted him with a laugh, and a gesture of despair.
“My friend, I have a score of young beaux who give me no peace until I promise to present them to la petite! Fanny, Marchérand is back! Let me find—oh, la la! I should say choose—a gallant for Léonie, and I’ll tell you the scandal! Come, little one!” She took Léonie’s hand, and led her into the room. “How you have set Paris by the ears! Were my daughters older I should be so jealous! Now, child, who will you have to lead you out?”
Léonie looked round the room.
“I do not mind, madame. I will have—Oh, oh, oh!” She let go Madame’s hand, and ran forward. “Milor’ Merivale, Milor’ Merivale!” she cried joyfully.
Merivale turned quickly.
“Léonie! Well, child, and how do you go on?” He kissed her hand. She was radiant. “I hoped I might see you here to-night.”
Madame de Vauvallon bore down upon them.
“Fie, what behaviour!” she said indulgently. “Is this your cavalier? Very well, petite. You need no introduction, it seems.” She smiled benignantly upon them, and went back to Fanny’s side.
Léonie tucked her hand in Merivale’s.
“M’sieur, I am very pleased to see you. Is Madame here too?”
“No, child, I am on one of my periodical visits. Alone. I won’t deny that I was drawn hither by certain rumours that reached us in London.”
She put her head on one side.
“What rumours, m’sieur?”
His smile grew.
“Faith, rumours of the sucčs fou that has been achieved by——”
“Me!” she cried, and clapped her hands. “Milor’, I am le dernier cri! Vraiment, it is so! Lady Fanny says it is. C’est ridicule, n’est-ce pas?” She saw Avon coming towards them, and beckoned with pretty imperiousness. “Monseigneur, see whom I have found!”
“Merivale?” His Grace made a leg. “Now why?”
“We have heard things in London,” said Merivale. “Egad, I could not but come!”
“Oh, and we are very glad!” Léonie said enthusiastically.
His Grace offered Merivale snuff.
“Why, I believe my infant speaks for us all,” he said.
“Hey, is it you, Tony, or am I in my cups?” demanded a jovial voice. Lord Rupert came up, and wrung Merivale’s hand. “Where are you staying? When did you come?”
“Last night. I am with De Châtelet. And——” he looked from one to the other—“I am something anxious to hear what befell you all!”
“Ay, you were in our escapade, weren’t you?” said Rupert. “Gad, what a chase! How does my friend—stap me if I have not forgot his name again!—Manvers! That’s the fellow! How does he?”
Merivale flung out a hand.
“I beg you’ll not mention that name to me!” he said. “All three of you fled the country, and, faith, it’s as well you did!”
“I suggest we repair to the smaller salon,” Avon said, and led the way there. “I trust you were able to satisfy Mr. Manvers?”
Merivale shook his head.
“Nothing less than your blood is like to satisfy him,” he said. “Tell me all that happened to you.”
“In English,” drawled his Grace, “and softly.”
So once again the tale was told of Léonie’s capture and rescue. Then Madame de Vauvallon came in search of Léonie, and bore her away to dance with an ardent youth. Rupert wandered away to the card-room.