An embarrassed silence followed the First Consul's exit. I had been looking forward to this levee for weeks, but it promised to be a very uncomfortable occasion for me as well as for others. I had a great desire to speak to the British ambassador and assure him of my sympathy, for none of the Frenchmen so much as dared to look at him, now that he was in disgrace, lest it be reported to the Consul, and they themselves fall under suspicion. But I feared it would be presumption in one so young and unknown, and I dreaded meeting the haughty British stare with which an Englishman petrifies one he considers unduly forward. Much to my relief, and indeed to the relief of the whole company, my uncle turned to him and began at once to talk in a most animated manner of the doings in the American Congress. That the relief was general was evident, for conversation was at once resumed, and with a gaiety that was somewhat feverish, I thought.
It was our turn now to pay our respects to Madame Bonaparte. I had been eager to meet her until I discovered the presence of Pelagie; but now it had suddenly become a trying ordeal to walk forward and salute madame, and perhaps stand talking to her a few moments, conscious that Pelagie's eyes, if they cared to, might be watching every movement. Should I be awkward (as I feared I would under such a scrutiny), I was sure there would be the old mocking light in them I had so often seen, and dreaded to see, in St. Louis. I resolved not to glance at her once while I was going through my ordeal, lest she should prove my undoing; and I tried to think only of the charming woman who smiled bewitchingly when I made gallant speeches, and who tapped me with her fan in much the same playful fashion as Mistress Madison had tapped me with her jeweled snuff-box. Indeed, she reminded me much of the lovely Washington lady. Both had the same kind way of putting an awkward lad at his ease, and seeming to like him and be pleased with his speeches, especially if they savored a little of audacity. But Madame Bonaparte had not the dash and sparkle of Mistress Madison; instead, she had a lazy Southern fashion of speech and a wonderfully winning gentleness that I am not sure was not more charming than the gay brilliancy of the other.
She kept me talking to her longer than I had expected (or hoped for), and I began to see significant glances exchanged, while my color was steadily rising; and I was sure mademoiselle (if she looked at me at all), noting my shining curls, as yellow as the gold lace on my white satin court-dress, and my cheeks flaming like any girl's, was saying to herself with infinite scorn, "Pretty boy!"
I think Madame Bonaparte saw the significant glances also, for she said presently:
"You must meet the Comtesse de Baloit. She has just returned from your America, and you will have much in common to talk about."
And so I found myself bowing low over Pelagie's hand, and a moment later looking straight down into her lovely dark eyes, which looked straight up at mine with no hint of scorn in their shadowy depths, but only a great wonder, and a little of something else that set my pulses to beating like trip-hammers.
"I cannot understand, Monsieur," she said. "I shall have to ask you, as you asked me in Washington—how did you get here?"
"It was a lodestar drew me," I murmured.
But the warm light in her eyes changed quickly to proud disdain.
"I like not idle gallantries between old friends. Keep those for Madame Bonaparte. I saw they pleased her greatly, and that you were much flattered by their reception."