Mme. de Châteauroux rose slowly from her place, stared at the new-comer for an instant with the insolence which only an insulted woman can use, then deliberately turned her back and moved across the room. Maurepas was already on his feet, and now, seizing his opportunity, he bowed to the woman, indicated Henri and the abbé in his glance, passed Claude with the barest recognition, and left the room congratulating himself on his adroit escape before the storm. Mailly-Nesle and St. Pierre sat perfectly still for an instant out of astonishment. Then, happily, the abbé came to himself, rose, repeated the performance of the minister, and hastened from the unpleasantness. The instant that he was gone Claude broke his crimsoning silence in a somewhat tremulous voice:
"Name of God, Marie, what have I done?"
Madame was at her dressing-table. Picking up a small mirror, she retouched her left cheek.
"Marie," said Henri, gently, "it is but fair that you let him know his fault."
A shiver of anger passed over the frame of la Châteauroux. Then, suddenly whirling about till she faced Claude, she whispered, harshly: "My gauntlet, Monsieur le Comte; my white gauntlet! Return it to me!"
Again Claude flushed, wretchedly, while his cousin spoke: "He has it not to return, Marie."
She turned then upon her brother. "So you, also, know this insult, and you counsel me to—let him know his fault! Ah, but your school of gallantry was fine!"
"This insult!" repeated Claude, stupidly.
"Fool! Do you think I do not know it?"
Count and Marquis alike stood perfectly still, staring at each other.