But the night was passing, and gently lifting mademoiselle's arm and placing it so that it should once more hold her secure on her pillion, I put Fatima to a gentle canter; and as I felt Pelagie's clasp tighten, my pulse leaped faster in my veins, and I gave Fatima full rein, and we went thundering down the Rue Royale, past Madame Chouteau's place, with the last revelers just coming through the great gates; past Auguste Chouteau's house, standing dark among its trees; past the Government House, still brightly lighted, for Governor Delassus and his retinue were just entering the great hall; turned up the Rue de la Tour, with the tower at the top of the hill shining white in the moonlight, then down the long stretch of the Rue de l'Église, faster and faster, as mademoiselle clung closer, until we reached the gate of Émigré's Retreat, and a great dog came rushing to meet us with mighty bounds and joyous barks, and would have overpowered us both with his clumsy caresses but that a sweet voice (never before one half so sweet) called:
"À bas, Leon! Tais-toi, mon ange!"
CHAPTER X
LA GUIGNOLÉE
"By sports like these are all their cares beguiled."
I woke the next morning with a feeling of elation that for a moment I did not understand; then I recognized that it was a feeling that mademoiselle and I would never again be on any but the friendliest of terms. No more fear of merry scoffing or haughty disdain! I had a right to look now for only kindness and friendliness.
But I did not know mademoiselle. The morning was bleak; a fine drizzle of rain, freezing as it fell, was hanging jeweled pendants from every twig and branch. I went down-stairs, to find that morning coffee was being served in the living-room, on a small table drawn up before a blazing fire of logs. Mademoiselle, who did not often come to early coffee, was serving it, in a warm-looking gown of some wool stuff, deep red in color, and I thought it suited well her dark beauty and the bleak morning. I stopped at the threshold to make my low bow, and then went forward, expecting a less formal greeting. But she only looked up from the silver urn, whence she was drawing a cup of coffee for the captain, long enough to say, "Good morning, monsieur," in her iciest tones, and then went on talking gaily to the captain of the ball the night before. I did not understand at all, but I thought it quite possible I had imagined her coldness; and so, without seeming to push myself unduly, I sought to join in the conversation when opportunity offered. I think the captain seconded my efforts out of the courtesy natural to him; but mademoiselle made it so plain that she desired to ignore me that I soon took my cup and withdrew to a corner of the fireplace. I hope I did not do anything so boyish as to sulk there, but of that I am not sure.
When the good doctor came bustling in from his laboratory a few minutes later, half frozen, but burning with enthusiasm over some experiments he was making with quicksilver, he brought his coffee to my warm corner, and I at once simulated the deepest interest in his account of his morning's work—though I confess I have never taken any great interest in science, and from what he seemed to expect the quicksilver to do I did not feel altogether sure that he was not, in truth, dabbling in black art.