“Oh, I did not know there were two such rings, that is all.” She seemed desirous of dismissing the subject, and he had no excuse for pressing it, though he wondered that she should not carelessly have told him how she came by the jewel, and so have set at rest his first impression—that she was wearing the actual jewel M. de Richelieu had offered him as a bribe.
“I hope I shall see you at Versailles,” she said. She was walking towards the gate, and her stiff skirts rustled on the untidy gravel path. “I think you are on a sorrowful quest,” she added timidly; “forgive me.”
“Believe me that I am happy,” he answered gravely.
Above the dark bulk of the house was the primrose-coloured moon, a thin crescent; there was a shiver in the air. Luc looked at the Countess, and thought that her eyes were suddenly flushed with tears.
“If I could help you, if I could prevent it,” she began passionately, then checked herself and held out, curiously enough, her left hand. “Good-bye,” she said.
He kissed her fingers and left her. As he passed along the darkening street before her house he thought that he had never known the fading of the sky and the first glimmering of the moon of such poignant beauty.
CHAPTER III
A PAVILION AT VERSAILLES
The Marquis took lodgings the following week in the little town that centred round the palace and park of Versailles, and there met his former colonel, M. de Biron.
The young Duke was amiable, if cynical, at Luc’s persistence in endeavouring to enter politics; he came to his rooms and attempted to enlighten him as to the state of the Court and the characters of the men who guided it. Luc smiled and forgot what he said as soon as the words were spoken; he knew M. de Biron was shallow, and he gave little weight to his impressions of men or affairs.
M. de Caumont had offered to present him to the King, but had not yet arrived at Versailles; and M. de Biron urged him not to wait, but to at once attend His Majesty.