"I do not know, Monsieur le Duc. What is it to be?"
"'Jephté,' I have heard—Montclair, you know. Pélissier and Thévénard are to sing, and the ballet in that piece is delightful. Sallé and Nicolet will lead it."
"Oh, I should like to go! I have seen Mlle. Sallé—last week. And Mme. Pélissier also. She has such a voice!"
"Will you, then, you and monsieur, do me the honor to occupy my box? We will have Mme. de Coigny and the abbé—"
"Oh no! Please—" Deborah began, impulsively, but, realizing what she was doing, stopped short in embarrassment.
"Pardon me, I did not know that you and the little Victorine were—uncongenial. Whom shall I ask?"
"Any one—any one, of course. Mme. de Coigny, by all means, monsieur."
Richelieu looked at her curiously, and might have spoken his thought had not Claude at that moment moved somewhat closer to them, and the Duke, therefore, turned to him. "I am just praying Madame la Comtesse to arrange a party for me for the Opéra to-morrow evening. Will you not join us?"
"Thank you, I am engaged to St. Severin for a supper and the Français. Madame, if she has no other engagement, will be delighted to accept your kindness, I do not doubt," returned Claude, pleasantly.
Deborah turned a half-wistful glance towards her husband, but was met with a gentle smile of refusal that suddenly changed her manner.