‘Lauzun seems inclined to make a reputation,’ said Sainte-Croix to Dubois. ‘Fouquet himself would have felt his eyes blink at such magnificence.’
‘I question whether he enjoys it, though,’ was the reply. ‘But it suits his policy. What piece of diplomacy is he bringing to bear with those two actresses?’
‘Let us assist him,’ said Gaudin, advancing towards a recess in which the host was talking with great volubility to two of his fair guests, one of whom was Marotte Dupré. The other Sainte-Croix directly recognised as her rival, Estelle des Urlis.
‘I am suffocating with thirst,’ said the Marchioness, drawing Gaudin in another direction. ‘Give me some wine.’
They turned towards the fountain, when her companion filled one of the glass cups and gave it to her. Marie drank off the contents with fevered eagerness, and then again took Sainte-Croix’s arm.
‘There,’ cried Lauzun, ‘I have brought together two most bitter enemies, and I now engage that they shall be as warm friends. Come—we will pledge this reconciliation generally. Dubois, Chavagnac, Gaudin,—you must join us.’
‘Marotte, will you be our Hebe?’ asked Chavagnac.
‘She shall not be mine,’ exclaimed Estelle. ‘Though we are now friends I would prefer filling for myself. I shall then be sure of what I drink.’
‘Are you afraid of the poisoners, Estelle?’ said Marotte. ‘I should have thought you had been too well acquainted with them.’
‘A truce to this,’ said Lauzun, who perceived the tempers of the fair ones were again rising. ‘The poisoners have all passed away.’