Jean Dubarry showed Camus out, and opened the door for him with his own hand. He would not have minded the hanging of Rochefort in the least, if Rochefort could only be hanged before he could speak his mind and tell his tale; but he greatly dreaded the catching of Rochefort by Choiseul, and comforted himself with the thought that Rochefort must now be in the safe custody of the governor of Vincennes.
At eight o’clock, the first of the guests arrived in the person of Madame de Duras. Chon Dubarry and Camille Fontrailles were waiting to receive her, and Jean entered just as Camus was announced; on the heels of Camus came M. de Joyeuse, a young fop and spendthrift, and scarcely had he entered when the wheels of Madame d’Harlancourt’s carriage were heard in the courtyard. She came in with M. d’Estouteville, whom she had brought with her.
Jean Dubarry was as pleased to receive d’Estouteville as he had been to welcome Camus. Nothing could underscore the Countess’s success more deeply than the evident anxiety of these members of the Choiseul faction to be well with her.
“Mordieu!” said Jean to himself, “Choiseul himself will be coming next—well, let us wait and see.”
He was in the highest spirits, complimenting Madame d’Harlancourt on her appearance, jesting with Joyeuse, with a word for everyone except Camus, who was deep in conversation with Camille Fontrailles.
“Ah, mademoiselle,” Camus was saying, “it seems an age since I met you at Monsieur de Choiseul’s, and yet, by the almanac, it was only the other night.”
“Why, monsieur, since that night so many things have happened, that the time may well seem long—the Presentation, for instance.”
“Ah, yes, the Presentation,” said Camus, with a laugh. “We have all been deeply absorbed by that event.”
“Deeply,” said Camille.