“As you will, madame,” Zénaïde retorted with assumed weariness; “but be careful to adhere to the truth, for sometimes kings are exacting.”
Madame Zotof grew red with anger. “Madame is kind,” she exclaimed; “on my word, I never received such treatment. I am requested to go, and accused of falsehood in a breath. Truly, French manners have not improved the Russian woman.”
Zénaïde had her hand on the door in the act of closing it upon the other, but she paused with a little soft laugh of disdain.
“I am rebuked, madame,” she said lightly, “but you must remember that the provocation was great;” and with that she shut the door, leaving me with the pair upon my hands,—M. Zotof angry and embarrassed, and madame fuming with passion but still ready to lead.
“Come, Zotof,” she said curtly, passing me without a glance; “it is a waste of time to dally here. Najine has duped us again. Why stand there gaping? Find a way out of this difficulty!” and she walked on before us like a huge bird whose plumage had been ruffled in the fray.
“Permit me to conduct you, madame,” I said graciously, advancing with the light; “the stairs are dark and somewhat steep.”
“Nay, I shall not break my neck,” she retorted with a discordant laugh; “I am sure of foot. You will be sorry for this night’s work, M. l’Ambassadeur.”
“That is true,” said Zotof, as he came slowly down behind us. “I am truly sorry, M. le Maréchal, that you have mixed yourself up in this matter.”
“I thank you for your solicitude, monsieur and madame both,” I replied, shading the taper from the wind, for Touchet had already opened the door and their attendants were waiting at the threshold. “I trust, however, that I shall surmount the embarrassments of the occasion, and hope that the king my master will not resent the discourtesy shown to his subjects.”
At this Zotof stopped with his mouth open, his breath coming fast, for he was a very stout man. It was obviously a new light on the situation; but madame chose to ignore it, merely gathering her skirts about her as if she shook off the dust of my dwelling.