"Ciel, Monsieur le Comte! Do you protest that you are a lover, with such an appetite? 'Tis more worthy the Court of Miracles!"
Claude put down his tea. "Ah, madame—the Court of Miracles! Do you know that for the last days I have heard nothing on every side but conversations about the last experiment of the Marquise de Coigny? May I ask if it proved a really successful remedy for your deplorable ennui?"
Mme. de Coigny slightly smiled. "Indeed, monsieur, its efficacy was but too great. At the time, I was in a dream of pity and of—happiness. Since my return, my wretchedness is greater than ever before. Pouf! How can you bear the air of this hideous place? It stifles! It poisons! It kills!"
"I hear," remarked Mme. de Châteauroux, from her toilet table, "that Griffet will, in a few days, formally present Monsieur l'Abbé de Bernis to her Majesty as eligible to the post of third chaplain to the Dauphin. Now, if it were desirable, it is possible that the King might"—she touched an eyebrow—"might be prevailed upon to ask him to supper with the royal family."
Victorine de Coigny moved uneasily, and Claude noted, from beneath his lids, that a sudden color, which did not quite match the rouge, had started into her face. "Do not jest, Marie," she murmured, half to herself.
"Oh, it is quite a possibility, my dear! If you ask it, I will—give him a salon here on a Tuesday evening. Will that please you? You will be able, then, to—"
Victorine sprang nervously to her feet. "Good Heaven, Marie! Do you not know that M. de Bernis considers me a man? How could you dream that I would wish him to know my sex? I—I beg of you—do not let me meet him here, or—or—if I should, at least you must disclose nothing. It would be too mortifying."
Mme. de Châteauroux paused in the manipulation of her gown to look at her friend. Never before had she beheld Victorine de Coigny in confusion; never had she seen her betray the smallest sign of emotion about any thing or person. Claude also regarded her with unfeigned interest. Presently he turned slowly to his cousin.
"Madame," he said, softly, "why will you not make a pilgrimage with me into the Court of Miracles?"
"Dear Claude," she answered, smiling dreamily, "when I go there, I must carry with me only an image of—the King."