'Only half?' she exclaimed, merrily; 'oh, fie, M. Blane!'
'I dare not be more, madam,' I sighed, with a strange mixture of fear, admiration, and perplexity; 'your beauty awes me.'
'You will become used to it in time; alas! it is the fate of beauty. Come hither,' said she, motioning me to a seat beside her on the down fauteuil, and smiling brilliantly, with a gratification that she cared not to conceal. 'Look at these brilliants,' she added, opening a scarlet case; 'they were brought to me this morning.'
'From Paris?'
'Jealous again! From the Louvre, by M. Boizenval.'
'The King's valet?'
'Yes; and he announced that the King might visit me to-day, hence this collation, towards which your eyes wander so suspiciously. Oh, poor jealous M. Arthur; but what think you of this necklace?'
'It would grace the neck of Anne of Austria; but you, madame, require no aid from ornament.'
'Little fellow, you flatter me already! I have promised M. Poussin, the painter, a sitting to-day; do you think that with these jewels and with this dress I shall make a good picture?'
'Madame, you would make a divine picture in any dress,' said I, carried away by the impulse of the moment.