"To-night—Paul appeared."
"Paul!" ejaculated the duke, startled momentarily out of his phlegm. "Paul here?"
"He was, monsieur, an hour ago. He has since gone forth again, I know not whither or for what."
Mayenne ruminated over this, pulling off his gloves slowly.
"Well? What has this to do with Mar?"
She had no choice, though in evident fear of his displeasure, but to go through again the tale of the wager and letter. She was moistening her dry lips as she finished, her eyes on his face wide with apprehension. But he answered amiably, half absently, as if the whole affair were a triviality:
"Never mind; I will give you a pair of gloves, Lorance."
He stood smiling upon us as if amused for an idle moment over our childish games. The colour came back to her cheeks; she made him a curtsey, laughing lightly.
"Then my grief is indeed cured, monsieur. A new bit of finery is the best of balms for wounded self-esteem, is it not, Blanche? I confess I am piqued; I had dared to imagine that my squire might remember me still after a month of absence. I should have known it too much to ask of mortal man. Not till the rivers run up-hill will you keep our memories green for more than a week, messieurs."
"She turns it off well," cried the little demoiselle in blue, Mlle. Blanche de Tavanne; "you would not guess that she will be awake the night long, weeping over M. de Mar's defection."