IN front of the Palace of St. Germain’s, but concealed from the park and terrace by an angle of the building, stood the Count de Chavigni, apparently engaged in the very undignified occupation of making love to a pretty-looking soubrette, no other than Louise, the waiting-maid of Mademoiselle de Beaumont. But, notwithstanding the careless nonchalance with which he affected to address her, it was evident that he had some deeper object in view than the trifling of an idle hour.
“Well, ma belle,” said he, after a few words of a more tender nature, “you are sure the Surgeon said, though the wound is in his side, his heart is uninjured?”
“Yes, exactly,” said Louise, “word for word; and the Queen answered, ‘I understand you.’ But I cannot think why you are so curious about it.”
“Because I take an interest in the young Count,” replied Chavigni. “But, his heart must be very hard if it can resist such eyes as yours.”
“He never saw them,” said Louise, “for I was not with my Lady when they picked him up wounded in the forest.”
“So much the better,” replied Chavigni, “for that is he turning that angle of the Palace: I must speak to him; so farewell, belle Louise, and remember the signal.—Go through that door, and he will not see you.”
Speaking thus, Chavigni left her, and a few steps brought him up to De Blenau, who at that moment traversed the angle in which he had been standing with Louise, and was hurrying on with a rapid pace in search of the Queen.
“Good morrow, Monsieur de Blenau,” said Chavigni: “you seem in haste.”
“And am so, Sir,” replied De Blenau proudly; and added, after a moment’s pause, “Have you any commands for me?” for Chavigni stood directly in his way.
“None in particular,” answered the other with perfect composure—“only if you are seeking the Queen, I will go with you to her Majesty; and as we go, I will tell you a piece of news you may perhaps like to hear.”