“Do you think that child sings well?” questioned Lady Dubarry of the King, whom Rousseau’s words had visibly struck.
“I could not tell,” he said: “while they are all singing together. One would have to be a regular musician to discover that.”
Rousseau still kept his eyes on Andrea who looked handsomer than ever with a high color.
The rehearsal went on and Lady Dubarry became atrociously out of temper: twice she caught Louis XV. absent-minded when she was saying cutting things about the play.
Though the incident had also made the Dauphiness jealous, she complimented everybody and showed charming gaiety. The Duke of Richelieu hovered round her with the agility of a youth, and gathered a band of merrymakers at the back of the stage with the Dauphiness as the centre: this furiously disquieted the Dubarry clique.
“It appears that Mdlle. de Taverney is blessed with a pretty voice,” he said in a loud voice.
“Delightful,” said the princess; “if I were not so selfish, I would have her play Colette. But I took the part to have some amusement and I am not going to let another play it.”
“Nay, Mdlle. de Taverney would not sing it better than your Royal Highness,” protested Richelieu, “and—— ”
“She is an excellent musician,” said Rousseau, who was penetrated with Andrea’s value in his line.
“Excellent,” said the Dauphiness; “I am going to tell the truth, that she taught me my part; and then she dances ravishingly, and I do not dance a bit.”