Gilbert had never liked him quite so well as during the progress of this little harangue. For one thing, it was so rare to see him in earnest.
“I will say no more about it,” he replied. “We must wait and see what happens, as you say. And now, to recur to Lucienne, let us go and see if she has left the Tuileries yet. She was to go to Madame Gaumont’s house in the Rue Vieille-de-Temple at noon; if we get to the palace in time, we might accompany her.” He pulled out his watch and looked at it. “We have just time.”
“But you won’t want me,” said Louis.
“Nonsense,” retorted the Marquis, throwing him a kindly glance. “Lucienne will be delighted to see you; she is rather anxious about you, I fancy. Come, or we shall miss her.”
But the Vicomte still seemed in two minds about accepting this invitation. “Well, don’t at any rate tell her that I refused . . . that I could not take her. Oh, I suppose you have already told her, perhaps, that you were going to ask me? Have you?”
The Marquis, who had turned to go, turned round again surprised for the second time at something in his cousin’s tone, and especially at the emphasis laid upon the last two words.
“Yes, I did tell her,” he replied, staring. “But what of that? The matter is easily explained. My idea was a foolish one. Why, any one would think, my dear Louis, that you were afraid of Mademoiselle Lucienne d’Aucourt!”
“Oh, sooner than be suspected of that!” retorted Louis gaily, and, tossing an assignat on to the little table, he followed Gilbert out into the garden.
And to Château-Foix, immediately after he had spoken, came the remembrance that Lucienne too had not seemed to wish for Louis’ company. She too had said that he could not leave the King.
As soon as they turned out of the Palais-Royal into the Rue de Richelieu they could see that the Rue Saint-Honoré was blocked by a crowd. Against the wall a figure with gesticulating arms could be seen above the mass of upturned faces.