“Let some one go and look for De Guiche: he has to render an account of a mission he had to discharge for me; if he should be disengaged, request him to be good enough to come to my apartment.”
De Guiche remained silent, hidden in the shade; but as soon as Madame had withdrawn, he darted from the terrace down the steps and assumed a most indifferent air, so that the pages who were hurrying towards his rooms might meet him.
“Ah! it is Madame, then, who is seeking me!” he said to himself, quite overcome; and he crushed in his hand the now worse than useless letter.
“M. le comte,” said one of the pages, approaching him, “we are indeed most fortunate in meeting you.”
“Why so, messieurs?”
“A command from Madame.”
“From Madame!” said De Guiche, looking surprised.
“Yes, M. le comte, her royal highness has been asking for you; she expects to hear, she told us, the result of a commission you had to execute for her. Are you at liberty?”
“I am quite at her royal highness’s orders.”
“Will you have the goodness to follow us, then?”