‘Mademoiselle de Scudéry is an exquisitely correct lady, her sense of social seemliness amounts to genius. She could hardly approve of a hamadryad ... Madeleine!’ and he made a dash for her. But she ducked and turned under his outstretched arms, and was once more at the opposite end of the room. The flame of her wish to know began to burn up her flimsy rôle.
‘I—promise you—anything—afterwards, but—pray tell me—did Mademoiselle de Scudéry make any mention to you of me?’ she panted.
‘’Tis no matter and she did, I....’
‘Tell me!’ And somehow Madeleine’s voice compelled obedience.
‘What strange vision is this? Well, then, as you are so desirous of knowing ... Mademoiselle de Scudéry ... well, she is herself a lady, and as such cannot be over sensible to the charms of her own sex——’
‘Well?’
‘Well, do not take it ill, but also she always finds it hard to pardon a ... well ... a ... er ... a certain lack of decorum. I told her she erred grievously in her judgment of you, but, it seems, you did not take her fancy, and she maintained’—(The Chevalier was rather glad of the opportunity of repeating the following words, for not being in propria persona, they escaped incivility and might be beneficial.) ‘She maintained that your manners were grossier, your wit de province, and that even if you lived to be as old as the Sybil, “you would never be an honnête femme”.... Maintenant, ma petite Reine——’
But Madeleine was out of the room—pushing her way through the lackeys ... then down the staircase ... then out into the street ... running, running, running.
Then she stood still and began to tremble from head to foot with awful, silent laughter. Fool that she was not to have seen it before! Why, the Sapphic Ode was but another statement of the Law she had so dreaded—that the spurner of love must in his turn inevitably be spurned! Who flees, she shall pursue; who spurns gifts, she shall offer them; who loves not, willy-nilly she shall love. As the words stood, the ‘she’ did not necessarily refer to the object of Sappho’s desire. Fool, fool, she had read as a promise what was intended as a warning. She was being punished for spurning the love of Jacques.