“It is not unlikely. I see that you love adventure for its own sake, for you have not asked me if it be the duchy or the kingdom. Adieu, Monsieur,” with a careless wave of the gray-gloved hand. “Adieu!”
He took his dismissal heroically and shot a final glance at the approaching soldier. His brows came together.
“Where,” he murmured, “have I seen that picturesque countenance before? Not in Europe; but where?” He caught the arm of a passing gendarme. “Who is that gentleman in fatigue uniform, coming this way?”
“That, Monsieur,” answered the gendarme in tones not unmixed with awe, “is Colonel Beauvais of the royal cuirassiers.”
“Thanks.... Beauvais; I do not remember the name. Truly I have had experiences to-day. And for what house is Mademoiselle of the Veil? Ravens? War? `Voici le sabre de mon pyre!'” and with a gay laugh he went his way.
Meanwhile Colonel Beauvais arrived at the table, tipped his hat to the Veil, who rose and laid a hand on his arm. He guided her through the pressing crowds.
“Ah, Madame,” he said, “you are very brave to choose such a rendezvous.”
“Danger is a tonic to the ill-spirited,” was the reply.
“If aught should happen to you—”
“It was in accord with her wishes that I am here. She suffers from impatience; and I would risk much to satisfy her whims.”