A FAIR SUITOR.
THE following evening at her Majesty's circle Lauzun approaches Mademoiselle. A smile is on his face, and his manner is less formal. Mademoiselle seats herself apart in a recess, and signs to him to place himself beside her. "Now, now, he will speak," she repeats to herself.
"Are you prepared, M. de Lauzun, to give me your opinion on my approaching marriage?" The tone of her voice is low and sweet; her hand falls near his; he draws a little back.
"Believe me, madame, each word you have uttered is graven on my heart. I have founded many châteaux d'Espagne on them."
Mademoiselle is enchanted. "This is the moment," thinks she. She grows hot and cold by turns, and with difficulty conceals her delight.
"Pray speak to me with frankness, Count. I want to discuss with you the most important event of my life—my marriage."
"I am deeply gratified at being appointed president of your council, madame." Lauzun's manner suddenly changes. He is all at once disagreeable, stiff, and supercilious. He settles his ruffles over his hands, and pulls at his moustache. "Allow me to say, however, that no one in the world could enter into this delicate matter with more profound respect for you than myself."
Mademoiselle is strangely baffled; spite of herself the conversation is drifting away, she knows not whither. She cannot decide if Lauzun is gratified or offended at her advances—a strange dilemma for a love-sick princess worth many millions!