“Well, well, let it drop,” replied De Blenau, fully more desirous of avoiding farther inquiries than Chavigni was of relinquishing them. “But the next time you come across me on such an occasion, beware of your heart’s blood, Monsieur de Chavigni.” And thus saying, he thrust back his sword into the scabbard.
Chavigni, however, was resolved not to lose sight of him again, and passing his arm through that of the Count, “You are still too hot, Monsieur de Blenau,” said he; “but nevertheless let us be friends again.”
“As far as we ever were friends, Sir,” replied De Blenau. “The open difference of our principles in every respect, must always prevent our greatly assimilating.”
Chavigni, however, kept to his purpose, and did not withdraw his arm from that of De Blenau, nor quit him again during the whole evening.
Whether the Statesman suspected Mademoiselle de Bourbon or not, matters little; but on entering the banquet-room, where the principal guests were preparing to take their seats, they passed that lady with her brother and the Count de Coligni, and the eye of Chavigni glanced from the countenance of De Blenau to hers. But they were both upon their guard, and not a look betrayed that they had met since De Blenau’s spur had been entangled in her train.
At that moment the Master of the ceremonies exclaimed with a loud voice, “Place au Comte de Blenau,” and was conducting him to a seat higher than his rank entitled him to take, when his eye fell upon the old Marquis de Brion; and with the deference due not only to his station but to his high military renown, De Blenau drew back to give him precedence.
“Go on, go on, mon cher De Blenau,” said the old soldier; and lowering his voice to a whisper, he added, “honest men like you and I are all out of place here; so go on, and never mind. If it were in the field, we would strive which should be first; but here there is no knowing which end of the table is most honourable.”
“Wherever it were, I should always be happy to follow Monsieur de Brion,” replied De Blenau; “but as you will have it, so let it be.” And following the Master of the ceremonies, he was soon placed amongst the most distinguished guests, and within four or five seats of the Cardinal. Like the spot before a heathen altar, it was always the place either of honour or sacrifice; and De Blenau scarcely knew which was to be his fate. At all events, the distinction which he met with, was by no means pleasing to him, and he remained in silence during greater part of the banquet.
Every thing in the vast hall where they sat was magnificent beyond description. It was like one of those scenes in fairy romance, where supernatural powers lend their aid to dignify some human festival. All the apartment was as fully illuminated as if the broad sun had shone into it in his fullest splendour; yet not a single light was to be seen. Soft sounds of music also occasionally floated through the air, but never so loud as to interrupt the conversation.
At the table all was glitter, and splendour, and luxury; and from the higher end at which De Blenau sat, the long perspective of the hall, decked out with all a mighty kingdom’s wealth and crowded with the gay, the bright, and the fair, offered an interminable view of beauty and magnificence.