‘Monsieur, I hear Madame la Marquise telling how Mesdames her daughters were wont to be affrighted by night-caps; when I was a child, they worked on me in a like manner, and to speak truth, to this day I have a dislike to them.’
‘Indeed, indeed,’ he answered, with his nervous laugh. ‘Yes, my daughters had quite a vision as to night-caps. Doubtless ’twas linked in their memory with some foolish, monstrous fable they had heard from one of their attendants. ’Tis strange, but our little granddaughter has inherited the fear and she refuses to kiss us if we are wearing one.’
Alas! There was no crack through which Madeleine could get in her own personality! The Marquis got up and stumbled across the room to Mademoiselle de Scudéry, and Montausier, having to give up his chair, sat down by Madeleine. There was a cry of ‘Ah! here she comes!’
The door opened and a little girl of about seven years old walked into the room, followed by a gouvernante who stood respectfully in the doorway. The child was dressed in a miniature Court dress, cut low and square at the neck. She had a little pointed face, and eyes with a slight outward squint. She made a beautiful curtsey, first to her grandmother and then to the company.
‘My dearest treasure,’ Madame de Rambouillet cried in her beautiful husky voice. ‘Come and greet your friend, Monsieur de Grasse.’
Every one had stopped talking and were looking at the child with varying degrees of interest. Madeleine felt suddenly fiercely jealous of her; she stole a glance at Mademoiselle de Scudéry, and saw on her face the universal smile of tolerant amusement with which grown-up people regard children. The child went up to Godeau, kissed his ring, and then busily and deliberately found a foot-stool for herself, dragged it up to Madame de Rambouillet’s bed, and sat down on it.
‘The little lady already has the tabouret chez la reine,’[2] said Mademoiselle de Scudéry, smiling and bowing to Madame de Rambouillet. The child, however, did not understand the witticism; she looked offended, frowned, and said severely:—
‘I am working a tabouret for myself,’ and then, as if to soften what she evidently had meant for a snub, she added: ‘It has crimson flowers on it, and a blue saint feeding birds.’
Montausier went into fits of proud laughter.