The commanding figure swept swiftly past the tapestries of Odette and the mad old king, and with a glad cry Aglaé seized Gabrielle's cold hands and covered them with kisses.
"The good marquise!" she cooed. "The dear excellent marquise! I am so glad, so glad, to have been summoned! There was a little unpleasantness, was there not? A deplorable misunderstanding, and our dearest lady like the angel that she is, has forgiven and forgotten, and we are better friends than ever."
"I never summoned you," began the marquise, faintly, but her voice was quickly drowned in the torrent of the other's volubility.
"I know--I know," she purred, with kittenish gestures of overweening joy. "It was but a tiny ripple on our ideal life! Madame was sorry to have so misread her Aglaé's devotion, and bade the dear abbé to invite her hither on a visit. Did I delay an instant? Surely not, for I burned to show the good marquise how cruelly she'd wronged me. Oh! What ineffable delight! Is it not well to be divided by a tiff to taste the glad moment of reunion?"
Gabrielle remaining silent, too giddy and too sick to collect her thoughts, the other went on glibly--
"I arrived yesterday, a whole day before you, and have been so good--have I not, Mademoiselle Toinon? You like not poor Aglaé, and frown at her, but must speak honest truth. Knowing to my dismay and grief when I went hence that madame could deign to be jealous of one so insignificant, I refrained from embracing my pets until madame should grant permission. And since I adore them as if they were my own, madame can guess what that has cost me. Yes! I can hardly believe it possible myself, but I've not yet seen either Victor or Camille, the sweet ones!"
With a sigh of admiration and a large gesture of the dusky arms, suggestive of amazement at such self-control, Aglaé ceased, shaking her head archly, and holding the unwilling chatelaine by both hands, gazed long and fondly at her.
It was evident that the woman was playing a part, and was over-acting it. Was this done purposely, that the marquise, who was not clever, might have no doubt about the acting? It seemed so to watchful Toinon. The creature had succeeded somehow in inflicting her baleful presence for a second time upon the mènage, and wished it to be understood that the returned Mademoiselle Brunelle was another person, no relation to the one who had been ejected. Why had she come? What did she propose to do? She surely did not expect the hapless marquise to clasp in her arms one who had so injured her--respond in earnest to her blandishments?
The brothers had come up the stairs to reconnoitre, and stood somewhat shyly in the doorway. Was there to be an explosion---a harrowing scene in which passion was to be torn to tatters; or was the artful play of the abbé to win the trick? He took in the situation with an exulting heart-thump. He had judged rightly. Of course he had! The marquise, pale as marble, was struck dumb--discomfited. She neither stormed nor wept. With a movement almost as kittenish as Aglaé's, he joined the group.
"Reconciled? I knew it," he cried, rubbing his white hands with relief. "Clovis, come and witness this delightful spectacle. The past is past and buried. We shall now begin afresh, and, profiting by experience, will be so happy, that madame will forgive our little ruse. The fact is, my sweet Gabrielle, that Clovis intends to devote himself to a yet deeper course of study, which requires a secretary and a partner--one who has an inkling of the secrets which are to be unearthed for the world's benefit. I took on myself, therefore, to risk the vials of a transient annoyance for the ultimate good of all. Mademoiselle will now be so occupied with her new duties that, to her regret, she must renounce all intercourse with the little ones. This, I believe, will meet your wishes? You are not angry? That is well. We are both pardoned, are we not?"