'See whom?' I answered, with a start and an eager look around.
'La belle Henriette. See, there she stands! A little court around her, with the brightest eyes and the sharpest tongue in France. I wager a hundred pistoles she will rule us all some day.'
As events showed, Bellegarde was right, though that concerns not this story. I followed his glance, and saw Mademoiselle d'Entragues surrounded by a group of admirers, with whom she was bandying jest and repartee. I saw before me a tall, slight woman, beautiful in a wicked, imperious way, her eyes as black as night, and her features exquisite, but marred in every line, to my mind, by their look of pride. I never saw her again but once, and that was at Bois Lancy, where the once-powerful Marquise de Verneuil had gone to hide her shame.
It was a pleasanter sight to turn from this girl, who was even then weighing the price of her honour, to the cluster of fair faces around the tabouret of Madame Catherine, the King's sister, now the Duchesse de Bar. Close to the Princess was Mary of Guise, and within a few feet of her were the wives and daughters of Rohan, de Pangeas, de Guiche, and d'Andelot. I did not, of course, know who they were, but Bellegarde pointed them out one by one, and then suddenly waved his hand in greeting to a man.
'Ah, there is Pimental! one moment, chevalier,' and he left me to join his friend. I was again alone, and resigned myself to patience, when a voice seemed to whisper over my shoulder:
'If M. le Chevalier will kindly survey the other side of the room, perhaps he will be equally interested.'
I turned round sharply. There was no one whom I could recognise as the person who had addressed me. On the other hand, however, I blessed him in my heart, for not ten feet away was Madame, radiant and beautiful, with Palin by her side, and M. d'Ayen, with his arm in a silken sling, bowing before her. He was pressing the tips of her fingers to his lips when our eyes met, and, drawing away her hand, she made a half-movement towards me. I was by her side in a moment, and as we shook hands she said with a smile:
'So we have met again, chevalier! In the Louvre, above all places! 'This with a slight rising of colour.
'I thought I had missed you. I was looking for you everywhere, and had given you up. I of course knew you were in Paris.'
'But the Rue Varenne was too distant a land to journey to? Come,' she added as I began to protest, 'give me your arm and take me there'—she indicated the upper end of the room—'the crush is not so great there. It is frightful here. M. d'Ayen will, I know, excuse me.'