She was taking up “a ladder” in a lace mitten of her mistress at her window, but she looked up on hearing him singing a song of their old times in the country when he was courting her.
She made a sour face which proclaimed her enmity. But Gilbert met it with so meaning a smile and his song and mien were so taunting that she lowered her head and colored up.
“She has understood me,” said Gilbert; “this is quite enough.”
Indeed she had the audacity to creep to his room door, but he had the prudence to deny her entrance, dangerous as was the temptation.
It was only after many a mine and counter-mine that at last chance made them meet at the chapel door.
“Good evening, Gilbert: are you here?”
“Oh, Nicole, good evening—so you’ve come to Trianon?”
“As you see, our young lady’s maid still.”
“And I our Master’s gardener’s-man.”
Whereupon she dropped an elaborate courtsey which won his bow like a courtier’s; and they went their ways. But each was but pretending for, Gilbert, following the girl, saw her once more go to meet a man in one of the shady walks.