He saluted her mechanically, but remained standing awkwardly at the threshold. In his confusion he did not forget, however, to be thankful that he bore no papers or anything to betray his errand but the cardinal’s ring, and that he had concealed in the lining of his coat. His silence and manifest embarrassment seemed to surprise not only his guide but the queen. She was the first to speak.
“What ails the man, Guyon?” she demanded with impatience; “is he from my son or from M. d’Épernon?”
Guyon looked sharply at the supposed messenger.
“Why do you stand like a fool?” he asked him in an undertone; “give her majesty the packet.”
Péron bowed profoundly. “Madame,” he said, “some mistake has been made; I am not the bearer of any message from Paris. I came to Brussels on my own business.”
The queen retreated a few steps, an expression of dismay on her face.
“How came you here then, monsieur?” she asked haughtily; “this is an unwarrantable intrusion! Guyon, what is the meaning of this?”
Her equerry was staring at Péron with an agitated face.
“I swear to you, madame, that he bears the token!” he cried in an excited tone.
“How is this, monsieur?” the queen said angrily, addressing Péron; “you deny your identity, but you bear the token?”