“A gallant one,” I replied at once, a little relieved at the turn of his questions.
He paused and turned a searching glance on my face.
“A gallant soldier is always admirable in the eyes of the fair ladies, M. de Brousson,” he continued deliberately; “perhaps it would be well for you to remind M. de Lambert that while he is in Moscow I would prefer to see him in his character of an attendant upon the envoy of the King of France and not as an esquire of dames.”
I felt the blood rising on my cheek under the czar’s keen eyes. I was angry, but I made an obeisance.
“Your Majesty’s wishes shall be respected,” I said calmly.
“You understand me, monsieur,” he went on coolly; “I rely upon your amiable discretion. It is my good fortune to have so astute a representative of the Court of France.”
Dolgoruky had approached while he was speaking; and when the czar turned to address the prince, I took the opportunity to withdraw a little from his immediate vicinity. I was angry and at the same time amused. It was apparent that he regarded M. de Lambert as no contemptible rival. It was equally obvious that the autocrat would brook no interference in his dovecote, and my amusement threatened to imperil my gravity. I was making an effort to pass through the crowd unobserved and so effect an escape to some spot where I might consider the situation, but I was not destined to accomplish my purpose. Mentchikof met me on my way to the door, and laid a detaining hand on my arm.
“I would speak with you a moment, M. le Maréchal,” he said pleasantly; and we turned aside into a recess where we were practically alone.
“I have but just spoken to your young friend, M. de Lambert,” he began.
“Ma foi!” I exclaimed impatiently, “M. de Lambert is the only man living to-day. Upon my soul, I did not know that he was so important.”