It was while opposite the Place du Carrousel and almost out of sight of the crowd of onlookers, that Calvert suddenly came upon Madame de St. André. She had ventured upon the ice on skates, and was talking to St. Aulaire, who skated slowly beside her. Even in the bright sunshine the Baron de St. Aulaire did not show his age, and moved and bore himself with incomparable grace on the ice. Indeed, in his rich dress and splendid decorations he made a dazzling appearance, and quite eclipsed Mr. Calvert in his sober garments and unpowdered hair. Calvert would have passed by or retreated without intruding himself upon Madame de St. André, but before he could do either she had caught sight of him, and he saw, or fancied he saw, a look of relief pass over her face and a welcome dawn in her eyes. Thinking so, he skated slowly toward her, wishing to be sure that he was wanted, and, as he did so, the gentleman, perceiving his approach, ceased speaking and looked most obviously annoyed at the young man's arrival.
Madame de St. André waved her hand lightly. "Au revoir, Monsieur de St. Aulaire!" she cried. "Here is Monsieur Calvert, who will take me back over the ice, so I shall not have to trouble you," and she laughed in a relieved, if somewhat agitated, fashion as St. Aulaire, doffing his hat and scowling fiercely at Calvert, skated rapidly away. As Calvert looked at the retreating figure, Beaufort's words of two days before flashed through his mind again, and it was with a sort of horror that he thought of this dissolute nobleman having even spoken with Madame de St. André. Was this beautiful girl born under some unlucky star that she should have to know and associate with such creatures? Calvert had only met her the night before, and already he had seen her twice with a man whose very presence was contaminating. 'Twas almost with the fear of finding some visible sign of that debasing influence upon the fair face beside him that he turned and looked at Madame de St. André. It would have been impossible for anyone to have looked more innocently charming. The court beauty was in eclipse, and in her place was a radiant, gracious young girl. Perhaps it was the short, fur-trimmed dress she wore and the small cap with its tuft of heron plumes, a fashion lately set by the Princess de Lamballe, which gave her that childish air. Or, more possibly, it was the unaccustomed look of embarrassment upon her face and a half-laughing petulance as of a naughty child caught in mischief.
"Good-day, Monsieur l'Americain," she said, gayly, smiling into the serious face Calvert turned toward her. "Will you forgive me for pressing you into service in so offhand a manner?—but perhaps you were looking for me?"
"No, Madame," returned Calvert, calmly, as they skated slowly toward the
Quai des Tuileries, "but 'tis a pleasure to be of service to you."
A cloud gathered on Madame de St. André's brow at this honest and somewhat uncomplimentary reply, but suddenly the humor of the situation seemed to strike her and she burst out laughing.
"Are you always so truthful, Monsieur Calvert, and do American ladies absolve you from making pretty speeches? If so, I warn you you must change or you will not succeed with the ladies of Louis's court."
"Ah, Madame! I am no courtier—nor, indeed, do I care to be," said
Calvert, quietly.
"Worse and worse!" cried Madame de St. André, still laughing. "But even though you disclaim all effort to find me, or wish to be agreeable when found, yet I will still confess that you arrived most opportunely. Monsieur de St. Aulaire grows fatiguing," she went on, with a pettish shrug of her shoulders. "He is as prodigal of compliments as you are chary of them."
Calvert looked at the young girl beside him.
"He dares to compliment you! A compliment from Monsieur de St. Aulaire can be nothing less than an insult," he said, gravely.