But Jacqueline's white hands again made free with his arm.
"Monsieur, Heaven will arrange! Heaven is bountiful in these affairs!"
"But I don't understand. He has gone upon business, you say? He never had any business."
Jacqueline laughed and clapped her hands. "Do not be too sure, monsieur! He is growing up, is M. Max!" She gave another little twittering laugh of sheer delight.
"Come, monsieur! The princess is alone. It is not gallant to keep a lady waiting!"
"But you don't understand, Jacqueline. It is impossible—impossible that I should intrude—"
"It is no intrusion, monsieur! I have explained everything to madame—and she expects you!" She flitted past him to the door, threw it open and dropped him a pretty, impertinent curtsy.
"Now, monsieur!" she commanded; and Blake, half amused, half resentful, saw nothing for it but to obey.
He stepped across the threshold; he heard Jacqueline laugh again softly and close the door; then he stood, a prey to profound trepidation.
He stood for a moment, hesitating between flight and advance, then shame at his weakness forced him to go forward and open the salon door.