"How—how—what shall I do?"
Madame turned away for an instant, and a resolution came into her eyes. "It is difficult, my Claude, to talk seriously with you here. I wish to see you happier. Listen. In three-quarters of an hour go to my apartments. Antoinette will let you in. There, when I can escape from this, I will come to you, and we shall have a little consultation. You shall lay bare your heart to me, if you will; and I—will turn adviser."
Claude seized her hand. "You will do this? You will let me tell you all? You will listen to what I shall plead for? My God! It is more than I could have hoped. Marie, Marie—I shall make you believe me, I shall make you consent!"
"Chut! Some one will hear you, my child. There, that is enough. Remain here while I go. Behold, de Gêvres is coming. Au revoir, then."
She parted from him with a smile as easy as that with which she had begun the conversation. What was one to think of her? A woman without heart, nerves, senses? No. Only a woman of the Court, a woman of the world; a woman whose heaven was Versailles, whose god was called Louis XV., whose hell would be dismissal with ten thousand livres a year.
Claude stood looking after her as she gave her hand to the lisping Duke; and then, tingling with excitement, with delight, with hope, with faith in his words and in her, the boy started upon the way she had pointed out to him. He went slowly across the room to the spot where stood Henri and a little group of ladies and gentlemen. He laid his hand upon the Marquis' arm and drew him a little away from the rest. Henri looked with curiosity and surprise upon his comrade's excited face, the brilliant green of his eyes, and the spasmodic manner in which he breathed.
"What is it, Claude? You look as though you had an inspiration, or were about to be seized with an illness. You have had too much champagne."
"Henri, I am about to be the happiest man in ten thousand worlds. Henri, will you pray for the spirit of eloquence to seize me? For one half-hour I would be a Bossuet, a Molière, a Racine! Henri, have you ever heard me talk well? No. I have not—"
"Name of a devil, Claude, what is the matter?"
"Nothing. Nothing. Never mind. Good-night!"