The Duke pulled open the door, and Deborah passed before him. The door closed again, softly, behind her. She was alone with the King.
"Sire!" she cried, with a little gasp.
Louis, who stood at the end of the room, his back to the fire, smiled at her. "Oh, there are no terms of etiquette to-night. We are only very good friends, you and I, my dear little Countess. Do you see? Now let us sit down together at this little table, where Mouthier has prepared a most delicate repast; and as we eat and quaff together some of the golden wine of Champagne, we will talk. Will you not thus honor me, madame?"
Deborah, who had grown very white during the King's speech, looked anxiously about her.
"We are utterly alone. None can hear us," observed his Majesty again, with the idea of being reassuring. He did his companion unguessed injustice. She had been thrown into a sudden panic of fear.
"Pardon, your Majesty, I—I do not desire to eat. I am not hungry. When M. de Gêvres conducted me here, I did not understand what he meant. If you will grant me permission, I will go."
This speech pleased the King incredibly. Here at last was a woman who would not fall at his feet, whom it were worth his while to win. Her fear was certainly genuine. She was actually moving towards the door. He did not stir from his place, wishing not to alarm her further.
"My dear Mme. de Mailly, how cruel to leave me quite alone! As your sovereign, I might command. As a man, however, I only entreat. Try, for me, one of these rissoles, which I myself assisted in making. Ah! That is better."
Deborah, something reassured by the quiet tone and the apparent liberty which was hers, looked doubtfully over to the little table whose glass and gold shone brightly under the great chandelier. The King was holding a chair for her. Flight now, were there really nothing intended by this gallantry, might be a little awkward to explain next day. After a moment's thought, Deborah went slowly over and sat down at the table. Louis, with a sigh of comfort and relief, placed himself beside her; and, taking her plate, filled it with portions from a number of dishes. The girl looked down at them with a troubled expression. She was thinking of Choisy.
"Madame—pledge me in this," murmured the King, filling her broad-bowled glass with the sparkling wine which she did not very much like. Wetting her lips with it, however, she said, demurely: "To your Majesty."