He wore a soft blue satin dressing-gown and a cravat of flimsy lace that hung in a cloud to the ground; his hair, which was curling and unpowdered, flowed over his bosom and shoulders; his breeches, waistcoat, and stockings were white; his feet thrust into gold slippers.
His whole figure was considerably in shadow, but by his even breathing he was certainly asleep.
Luc was first amused and then vexed; he made no doubt that this was the Governor.
“M. de Richelieu,” he said, in a firm voice. “Your Highness——”
The sleeper stirred lightly, raised his head, and sat up.
Luc was looking at the “Monsieur Armand” of last night’s sordid happenings.
CHAPTER XII
THE DIAMOND RING
Despite the different light, surroundings, and dress, the recognition was instantaneous on each side. For a breathless instant the two men gazed at each other. M. de Richelieu was the first to speak.
“So you are M. de Vauvenargues!” he said, and put his gold-slippered feet to the ground and threw his head back with a cold haughtiness.
“I am M. de Vauvenargues,” answered Luc.