"Monsieur d'Exmès," said she, "how is it that we didn't see you at the tournament to-day?"
"Madame," replied Gabriel, "the duties of the office which his Majesty has done me the honor to bestow upon me, prevented."
"So much the worse," said Catherine, with a sweet smile, "for you are surely one of our most daring and skilful cavaliers. You made the king reel yesterday, and that is a very rare thing. I should have been glad to be a witness again of your prowess."
Gabriel bowed, feeling decidedly ill at ease under this shower of compliments, to which he knew not how to reply.
"Do you know the play that they are going to give us?" pursued Catherine, evidently very favorably inclined toward the handsome and modest youth.
"I know it only in Latin," was his reply; "for I am told that it is nothing more than an imitation of one of Terence's plays."
"I see that you are as learned as you are valiant," said the queen, "as well versed in literary matters as you are skilful with thrusts of the lance."
All this was said in an undertone, and accompanied by glances which were not exactly cruel. To be sure, Catherine's heart was empty for the moment. But Gabriel, uncouth as Euripides' Hippolyte, received the Italian's advances with an air of constraint and a frowning brow. Ungrateful wretch! when he was to owe to this kindly disposition, at which he turned up his nose, not only the place which he had so longed for at Diane's side, but the most fascinating pouting by which the love of a jealous sweetheart can betray itself.
In fact, when the prologue began, according to custom, to appeal to the indulgence of the spectators, Catherine said to Gabriel,—
"Go and sit there behind me among these ladies, my literary friend, so that I may at need resort to your fund of information."