He took his hat to depart, feeling perhaps, for the first time, that there were women in the world to whom even he dare not aspire, and that it was provoking such should be the best worth winning. The Marquise had not yet lost the knack of playing a game from which she had never risen a loser but once, and indeed if her weapons were a little less bright, her skill of fence was better than ever. Few women have thoroughly learned the art of man-taming till they are past their prime, and even then, perhaps the influence that subdued his fellows, is powerless alone on him whom most they wish to capture.
Admiration from young Chateau-Guerrand gratified the Marquise as some stray woodcock in a bag of a hundred head, gratifies a sportsman. It hardly even stimulated her vanity. She wanted him though, like the woodcock for ulterior purposes, and shot him, therefore, so to speak, gracefully, neatly, and in proper form.
“I should fear to commit an indiscretion by remaining one moment longer, madame,” said he, “but—but—” and he looked longingly, though with less than his accustomed assurance, in the beautiful eyes that met his own so kindly.
“But—but—” she interposed laughing, “you may come again to-morrow at the same time; I shall be alone. And, Casimir, I have some talent for curiosity, bring with you that list you spoke of—at least if no one else has seen it. A scandal, you know, is like a rose, if I may not gather it fresh from the stalk, I had rather not wear it at all!”
“Honour,” said he, kissing the hand she extended to him, and in high glee tripped downstairs to regain his chair in the street.
Satisfied with the implied promise, Madame de Montmirail looked wistfully at a clock on the chimneypiece and pondered.
“Twenty-four hours gained on that young man’s gossiping tongue at least. To-morrow night I might be there—the horses are good in this country. I have it! When I near the place I must make use of their diligence. I shall overtake more than one. I cannot appear too quickly. I shall have a famous laugh at Malletort, to be sure, if my information is earlier than his—and at any rate, I shall embrace my darling Cerise, and see her husband—my son-in-law now—my son-in-law! How strange it seems! Well, business first and pleasure afterwards.”
“Justine!”
“Madame!” replied Justine, re-entering with a colour in her cheek and a few particles of soot, such as constitute an essential part of a London atmosphere, on her dainty forehead, denoting that she had been leaning out at window to look down the street.
“Madame called, I think. Can I do anything more for madame before she goes out?”