Neither Betsy nor the maid was proud of the result of their efforts. The effect was not good, and Betsy had to take what consolation she could from the fact that she had obeyed Napoleon.
A dinner with the Emperor was always delightful to Betsy and Jane, and this one was no exception. When it was over the Emperor rose abruptly and all went with him to the drawing-room. There the delectable coffee for which Le Page was famous was brought in, and Betsy, feeling more grown up than ever, drank a cup into which, disdaining tongs, she dropped a lump of sugar.
Soon the carriage was announced, and all set out, Madame Bertrand ahead, carrying her baby, next little Arthur, then Mrs. Balcombe, and finally Betsy and Jane and General Gorgaud.
When the signal was given, the spirited Cape steeds tore away, dashing from side to side, while Madame Bertrand screamed loudly to Archambaud to stop, though without avail, until the carriage ran into a gumwood tree.
Except for the shaking up and the fright, none of the party was injured, and when the door was opened all scrambled hastily out. Nothing would induce them to intrust themselves again to the carriage and the reckless Archambaud, and though the rain was falling heavily they preferred to walk over the muddy road to Deadwood. They had nearly a mile to go, and it was especially hard for Madame Bertrand, whose baby would not be carried.
Betsy, though she knew that she herself probably looked equally absurd, could not help laughing when she saw Madame Bertrand arrayed in one of Mrs. Balcombe's dresses, half a yard too short and small in every way, which she had to borrow while her own clothes were drying.
But the ball itself was pleasant and all felt repaid for going, even though they had to walk home in the mist.
The next morning, as ever, Betsy was the victim of Napoleon's raillery.
"So you had a good time last evening, Mees Betsy. I hear you danced very well and looked well, and might have been Baroness Sturmer's younger sister, you looked so much like her."
This compliment pleased Betsy mightily, as doubtless Napoleon realized, for the little English girl thought Baroness Sturmer, wife of the Austrian Commissioner, the prettiest woman she had ever seen.