He flushed and laughed at the same time. Happily at that moment Antoinette and Fouchelet, the valet, entered together, the man bearing their repast upon a silver tray. While the dishes were being set out madame moved leisurely over to her toilet-table for a fan, and Claude sat silent till they were alone again.
"And now, my Claude, you will pledge me in a glass of this wine of Champagne. See—to thee, and me, and our house, Claude! Come—drink!"
Was madame suddenly nervous? Claude heard her voice tremble, and thought that her hand shook as she raised the delicate crystal goblet, with its tracery of golden grapes and vines, filled to the brim with that foaming gold which the court of the fifteenth Louis knew so well.
"To you, Anne! Only to you!"
The glass was at his lips, and he drank the toast with his soul in his eyes. He was blind; he was deaf. He did not hear that sound in the neighboring room that had stopped his companion's hand and fixed her eyes. The door to the boudoir was thrown violently open, and, at the same instant, there was the crash of glass on the floor.
"Diable!" cried a peculiar voice; and then a silence, thick, terrifying, fell upon the little room.
Slowly, so slowly that the woman was fascinated with the sight, Claude carried the glass from his lips back to the table. His eyes had met those of the King, and both men hung to the glance. The boy rose, his limbs as steady as his hand had been. And still no one spoke. Mme. de Châteauroux was not acting now. Claude had not seen her first terror, but he knew when her hand crept to her mouth, perceived the trembling of it, heard dimly the sharpness of her breathing. Finally her voice came to him as if from a great distance, as she faintly said:
"I had not—expected—your Majesty—so early."
"So early, madame," echoed the royal voice, suavely. "And does Mme. de Châteauroux now make appointments for her evenings by the hour?"
Claude shut his teeth. "Sire, you insult my cousin!"