Gilles alone appeared unconscious of embarrassment. His mind was not properly enchained either to M. d'Inchy's difficulties or to the young Spaniard's growing enmity. His thoughts were for ever breaking bounds, turning at every moment to the girlish figure in the unwieldy hoops and the white satin gown, whose merry laugh was like the twittering of robins in the early days of spring. Even at this moment his attention had been arrested by a little episode which occurred at the end of the room, where she was standing. A little, sudden cry of pain rang out from beneath one of the satin masks. Some one had evidently been hurt—a prick from a pin, perhaps, or a toe trodden on. Anyhow, there was the cry, and Messire Gilles would have thought nothing more of it only that the next moment a girlish voice reached his ear—a voice quite tearful and trembling with compassion.
'Think you it will heal?' the voice said tenderly.
And then it appeared to Gilles as if something in his brain had suddenly been aroused, as if memory—a vague, dreamy memory—had become quickened and like some intangible sprite had taken a huge leap backwards into some dim and remote past which the brain itself was still unable to reach or to seize upon. It was not a recollection, nor yet a definite thought; but for one moment Gilles remained absolutely still and was conscious of a curious, swift beating of his heart, and a still more strange, choking sensation in his throat.
The whole episode had occurred within the brief compass of half a dozen heart-beats, and Gilles, when he looked once more on Monseigneur d'Inchy, still saw that same look of perplexity upon the Fleming's face, whilst from the group of ladies in the distant part of the room there came only the same confused murmur of voices of awhile ago.
So Gilles sighed, thinking that his excited fancy had been playing him an elusive trick.
And the next moment the loud clanging of a bronze bell proclaimed to the assembled guests that the banquet was ready to be served.
CHAPTER X
HOW THE QUARREL BEGAN
I
Monsieur le Baron D'Inchy took his seat at the head of the principal table; beside him sat his ward, Madame Jacqueline de Broyart, who had M. le Comte de Lalain on her left. Gilles sat some little way down one of the side tables. Outwardly, he was a person of no importance—a stranger, travelling incognito and enjoying for the time being the hospitality of Monseigneur the governor. Maître Jehan, watchful and silent, stood behind his master's chair. The tables had been lavishly and sumptuously laden with good things: a perpetual stream of butlers, pages and varlets had walked in and out of the hall, bringing in dish after dish and placing them upon the boards.