Madame de Parabére, flirting and ogling outrageously, as was her custom, whispered again in Captain George’s ear, with a little affected laugh. It seemed to the eager watcher that her lips shaped the hated syllables—“Mulatto.”
It was time to take aim now, sure and deadly, preparatory to giving fire. A cluster of stephanotis showed out like ivory against the smooth black satin.
Madame de Parabére clapped her hands, and exclaimed with a child’s glee, “But madame, what a bouquet! Madame is indeed fortunate! Such flowers are not to be procured within leagues of Paris. How exquisite! How ravishing! Madame is so good. Madame will permit me to have one little breath of their fragrance. Only one!”
The Marquise hesitated. An instinct of womanly forbearance prompted mercy even to another woman. Vindictive as she felt, and with her finger on the trigger, she would yet spare her, she thought; but the insolent creature should know her enemy, and should be taught that even the Regent’s favourite could not command such bouquets as the acknowledged beauty of the Court.
“They were sent me as a gift, madame,” she observed, haughtily, and withholding the flowers. “I value them because ours are not yet blown at the Hôtel Montmirail.”
“Pardon, madame!” retorted the other, unable, now that she knew her, to forego this opening for a thrust. “Tropical, of course! From an admirer, madame? or perhaps a kinsman? Very dark, no doubt, and with close curled hair. I offer you my compliments from the bottom of my heart!”
No quarter now. She had rushed upon her fate, and must be shot down without the least compunction. “If madame will deign to accept my bouquet,” said the Marquise, “she will do me the highest honour.” And she displayed the whole of it, a wonder of nature, brought to perfection by art.
Madame de Parabére, giddy, thoughtless, fond of flowers, stretched her hand out eagerly, and Captain George, whose attention the Regent’s conversation had diverted from this passage of arms between the ladies, turned round while she was in the act of putting them enthusiastically to her face.
He saw the situation at a glance, and his promptitude served him as usual.