“Oh, keep me!” she cried under her breath. “Take me away—keep me from——”
“What is the meaning of this?” and he looked from the small, trembling figure in his arms to Monsieur Laflamme.
“Ma’m’selle de Longueville had a turn—I think it was the heat—or, perhaps we danced too hard. You in this new country take things so much in earnest. Then we came out here for a breath of air. She is better already. She is my queen for the evening. Ma’m’selle, when you are ready to go back——”
Laflamme was the embodiment of gentleness and perfect breeding, and as he gazed tranquilly at André, the young man felt the indescribable difference, and withal a certain power that was like authority over Renée. Oh, what if—and suddenly André Valbonais knew the child’s play; the pretty imperiousness of ownership had a deeper meaning for him. He would dispute this man’s claim. What was it but trifling? The two men were as transient guests in the town. They would go away as soon as the spring opened. But this one should not trifle with little Renée. Ah! he did not look like trifling. The resolution in his face startled André.
“Ma’m’selle Renée,” he began, “are you ill? Shall I take you home?” and André’s eyes questioned.
There was an ardent pressure on the small hand that said authoritatively, “Come! come!” It roused the spirit of wilfulness, of which she had quite too much. And what was there to be afraid of? She was suddenly courageous.
“I am better now,” she said. “We will go back. But I will not dance. Monsieur Laflamme, choose some other partner. One does not dance every time, even with a king. We rule our own court here and make our own laws. And I will lend the fair one my rose.”
She took André’s arm and smiled up in the other’s face with the most provoking nonchalance. Laflamme gnawed his lip. He was very angry.
“I shall not consent to that. I am not so easily transferred, ma’m’selle.”
“But you must go and dance. You will break the circle. Monsieur Valbonais and I will look on.”