Brühl stepped softly forward.
'Ah! it's you. Monsieur Henry,' said a fresh voice. 'Wait a moment.'
The head disappeared, but soon the door opened wide and an eight year old girl came to it. She wore a satin dress ornamented with lace, silk à jour stockings, shoes with high heels; her hair was curled and powdered, and she looked more like a doll than a child. She smiled to Brühl, curtseyed to him, as it was customary in the court and as she was taught by her maître de ballet, Monsieur Favier. She had the comically serious mien of those china figures made in Meissen.
Brühl bowed to her as he would have done to an elderly lady. The child looked seriously at him with a pair of big black eyes, but all at once her seriousness forsook her and she burst into laughter. The comedy was over.
'How do you do, Henry?'
'And how is her Excellency?'
'Her Excellency, my mother, prays with the Princess. Padre Guarini recites a litany, and I am bored. Listen, Brühl, let us play at court; I shall be the queen and you the great chamberlain.'
'I would do it willingly, my dear Frances,' but I must return to the King's service before playing.'
'You are not polite towards the ladies!' answered the little Countess with the air of an old lady, which made her very amusing.
'I will not love you, and should you ever fall in love with me--'