Gilbert hesitated.
“Bless the fays for their hospitality,” said Rousseau, “fall on! they will be offended at your holding back and think you rate their bounty incomplete.”
“Or unworthy you gentlemen,” interrupted a silvery voice at the summerhouse door, where two pretty women presented themselves arm in arm.
With smiles on their lips, they waved their plump hands for Jussieu to moderate his salutations.
“Allow me to present the Author Rousseau to your ladyship, countess,” said the latter. “Do you not know the lady?”
Gilbert did, if his teacher did not, for he stared and, pale as death, looked for an exit.
“It is the first time we meet,” faltered the Citizen of Geneva.
“Countess Dubarry!” explained the other botanist.
His colleague started as though on a redhot plate of iron.
Jeanne Dubarry, favorite of King Louis X. was a lovely woman, just of the right plumpness to be a material Venus; fair, with light hair but dark eyes she was witching and delightful to all men who prefer truth to fancy in feminine beauty.