Jean was flattered at being evidently taken for a real soldier. He boldly admitted at once that he was.
‘Can you tell me if the Marchioness of Brinvilliers is at Versailles this evening?’
‘She is,’ returned Jean. ‘I saw her arrive with Madame Scarron—de Maintenon, as they now call her. And not ten minutes back she crossed the Tapis Vert on the arm of M. Gaudin de Sainte-Croix.’
The stranger uttered a subdued oath, as Blacquart pronounced the name.
‘Which way were they going?’ he asked quickly.
‘Towards the pavilion,’ answered Jean. ‘I have no doubt you will find them there by this time.’
The new-comer returned no answer, but turning hastily away, passed on to the pavilion, which had been erected at the edge of the basin. It was hung with lamps, and he could discern the features of all the company who were assembled in it. His eye ran anxiously along the lines of plumed and jewelled head-dresses, until at last his glance fell upon Marie and Sainte-Croix, who were seated in a corner of the building near one of the entrances. He started slightly as he saw them; and then hurriedly tracing a few lines upon his tablets, he pointed the Marchioness out to one of the pages, who were in waiting at the pavilion, and told him to give the message to her. The boy immediately obeyed his orders. As the Marchioness read the note her features underwent a rapid change; but the next instant they recovered their wonted unfathomable calmness; and whispering a few words to Sainte-Croix, she rose from her seat and left the pavilion. Gaudin waited until she had quitted the building, and then, as if moved by a sudden impulse, followed her.
As she reached the outer entrance she found the stranger waiting to receive her. It was her brother. She held out her hand to greet him; but he refused to take it, and retreating a step or two, raised his hat, as he received her with a cold salute.
‘François!’ exclaimed the Marchioness; ‘what brings you here! Has anything happened to our father? Tell me!’
‘He is dead, Marie!’ replied her brother, with a solemn earnestness, that would have shivered the feelings of any other human being but the one he addressed. ‘I have left the body not an hour and a half ago, to bring you the intelligence in the midst of the heartless glitter of Versailles.’