It took Richelieu ten minutes to reach the centre of the room, and even such speed necessitated not a few curt replies to questions, and some very brief salutations to several ladies who had hoped for much more. Mme. de Grammont, receiving from him only a bow, glared angrily; and half a dozen others sniffed with envious significance as de Sauvré made room for his friend before the unconscious Deborah.
"Mme. de Mailly, I have the honor to make you my compliments," came in cool, smooth, smiling tones from this master of situations.
The color fled, to the last drop, behind the rouge on Deborah's face. Her knees shook, and her hands became suddenly cold and moist. The Duke was bowing profoundly—giving her time. When he raised his head again she also had straightened, and her face was well under control.
"I congratulate Versailles upon the return of Monsieur le Duc," she said, after a strong effort.
"Thank you," he replied, and then paused, as if waiting for something further.
To cover the strain of the moment she made herself extend her hand. He took it on the back of his, felt its icy coldness, and muttered "Brava!" to himself while he lifted it to his lips. Then, as he moved closer to her, the other gentlemen, with reluctant politeness, drew to one side.
"You will be visible this afternoon in the Rue d'Anjou?" he asked.
"No, monsieur."
"To-morrow?"
"No."