We must now give a space, a very short space indeed, to Rose d'Albret, who, after speaking a few moments with her uncle, the priest, and Chazeul, had retired to her own chamber in search of solitary meditation. There, however, she found her maid waiting for her, it having been her custom for some weeks, since Chazeul had taken up his residence at the château, to quit the rest of the party as soon after supper as possible.
"There, take off this stiff gown, Blanchette; give me a dressing gown, undo and comb my hair; and then you may go and gossip with Monsieur de Montigni's servants. They have just come from Italy, and will tell you, I don't doubt, how much prettier the girls of France are than those on the other side of the Alps. I will undress myself, when I feel sleepy."
"Indeed, Mademoiselle, I don't want to gossip with them," said Blanchette; "if I talk with anybody, it shall be with Alphonso, Monsieur de Chazeul's head valet. He is a fine man, and a gay one, like his master. Ay, indeed, Monsieur de Chazeul is something like a man."
Rose d'Albret turned suddenly towards her, and fixed her eyes upon her face, asking, "How much has he given you, Blanchette?"
"Lord, Mademoiselle!" cried the girl, turning crimson.
"Yes, Blanchette, I wish to know," said Rose; "tell me exactly how much he has given you. These fine gentlemen think that a lady's heart can never be won rightly without bribing her maid; and therefore, just in proportion to the number of crowns you have received, I shall judge that Monsieur de Chazeul values my love. I am quite serious, so mind you reckon up exactly."
The girl evidently did not clearly see whether her mistress spoke ironically or not, but the tone of Rose d'Albret was so serious, that she inclined to the latter opinion, and answered hesitatingly, "Why of course, Mademoiselle, he has given me some little presents at different times, as all gentlemen do when they are in love."
"Little presents!" cried Rose in the same tone, "why then he values me little. But count up, count up, Blanchette, how much altogether."
"Why, maybe, perhaps a hundred crowns in the whole, Mademoiselle," answered the maid.
"A hundred crowns!" cried Rose d'Albret, "I am worth more than that; and I'll tell you what, Blanchette, you are a great fool if ever you say a word in his favour again, unless he gives you treble as much. So you look to it, undo my hair, and make haste."