"Dancing is over, Lydie," he said, "have you not a few presentations to Her Majesty to effect?"
"Oh yes!" she said perfectly naturally, "of a truth I had almost forgotten . . . the first time for many years, eh? my dear father. . . How some people will gossip at this remissness of Madame la Grande Maréchale de la Cour . . . will you conduct me straight away to Her Majesty? . . . I hope she has not yet noticed my absence."
She leaned somewhat heavily on her father's arm, for she was afraid that she could not otherwise have walked quite straight. She fully realized what it meant when men talked of drunkenness amongst themselves. Copious libations must produce—she thought—just this same sensation of swaying and tottering, and hideous, painful giddiness.
Already Monsieur de Louvois, Her Majesty's Chamberlain, was waiting, whilst the ladies, who were to receive the honour of special presentation, were arraigned in a semi-circle to the left of the dais. Beneath the canopy the King and Queen were standing: Louis looking as usual insufferably bored, and the Queen calmly dignified, not a little disdainful, and closely scrutinizing the bevy of women—more or less gorgeously apparelled, some old, some young, mostly rather dowdy and stiff in their appearance—who were waiting to be introduced.
Quickly, and with a respectful curtsey indicative of apology, Lydie now took her stand beside her Royal mistress and the ceremony of presentations began. The chamberlain read out a name; one unit thereupon detached itself from the feminine group, approached with sedate steps to the foot of the throne, and made a deep obeisance, whilst Madame la Grande Maréchale said a few appropriate words, that were meant to individualize that unit in the mind of the Queen.
"Madame de Balincourt. Your Majesty will deign to remember the brave General who fought at Fontenoy. Madame has eschewed country life momentarily for the honour of being presented to your Majesty."
"Enchantée, Madame," the Queen would reply graciously, offering her hand for a respectful kiss.
"Madame Helvetius, the wife of our renowned scientist and philosopher. Your Majesty is acquainted with his works."
"Enchantée, Madame!"
"And Mademoiselle Helvetius, striving to become as learned as her distinguished father, and almost succeeding so 'tis said."