"She is unaware that her salon to-night is held in your honor. The Court also is ignorant of that. I have planned it so that your appearance may be that of a meteor in the heavens—the rising of an unlooked-for star, a new planet."
"You treat her—your wife—very badly, France."
"Mordi! She is only a machine for prayers. She does not think."
Silence fell on this remark, for the coach was rolling up the approach to the palace. Passing the Court of Ministers, where was the grand entrance, it entered another long, narrow court, a kind of cleft between the main building and the north wing, halting before a little private door leading into the hallway between the vestibule supérieure and the chapel itself. This door was open, and by the light of the lantern hanging from an iron projection above it might have been seen a man in household livery, watching. As the King alighted from the coach the servant called softly, "Monsieur!"
Out of the darkness beyond came a man, who appeared in time to behold la Châteauroux step from the vehicle.
"D'Argenson—conduct madame to her suite."
"Madame—I have the honor," muttered young Marc Antoine, faintly.
With a small, cruel smile, visible in the lantern-light, Marie Anne de Mailly extended her hand. D'Argenson, inwardly quivering, lifted it to his lips.
Something more than an hour later Claude and Deborah, in chairs, arrived at the grand entrance of the palace, and went in together. They were a little late for the Queen's salon, which fact was due to Claude's fastidiousness. Both he and his wife had made fresh and elaborate toilets, and, as Deborah was very much more rapid in her operations than her lord, she had had nearly half an hour to wait for him at their apartment. Debby Travis never was noted for great patience, save in still-room processes; and though she made no comments, when Claude finally signified his readiness to proceed, it was just as well that a lady's panniers took up all the room in one chair, so that custom obliged him to be carried in another.
They went up the Staircase of the Ambassadors together, in perfect (apparent) amicability, ascended the left side of the second flight, stopping to speak to two or three more belated couples, hurried through the marble room at the top, and so passed into the Queen's antechamber, in which stood half a dozen gentlemen. From the salon beyond came a subdued murmur of conversation; and Deborah, as soon as a servant had taken her cloak, passed into it. Claude, however, was detained by M. de Pont-de-Vesle, who seized him by the coat-lapel.