"It is a nice country for young girls, America," said he with a smile. "I shall do all that is possible to win Miss St. Clair's favor, for life would be worthless without her." And he bowed himself gracefully out.
Is it possible that Helen will be indifferent to this young Antinous? thought I. Poor Mr. Denham would have small chance with me if I were in her place.
An hour later the concierge sent up to me an exquisite bouquet of violets and white camellias, with the card of René Vergniaud and a folded note: "If Madame Fleming does not think it improper, will she be so kind as to give these flowers to my beautiful queen?"
M. Vergniaud had asked Madame Le Fort's permission to call on Miss St. Clair. "Certainly not," she replied. "I am astounded at such presumption! But you may call to see me. To-morrow evening we go to the opera, and Wednesday to Madame Perier's, and Thursday is my reception, and Friday we have tickets to Phèdre at the Français. Saturday, then: it is the first evening we have free."
We were all assembled in the salon as usual after dinner when M. Vergniaud was announced. The little princess was radiant. She had never been merrier in a school-girl frolic or more ready with gibe and jest and laughter. She sang her best songs, putting her whole soul into them—"Si tu savais comme je l'aime." René Vergniaud was so dazed that he came near bidding farewell to his senses for ever. He evidently thought that all this brilliancy was for him, and was in such a rapture of delight that he never noticed Madame Le Fort's repeated glances at the clock, and was only roused by the polite invitation to come again. He was not too disconcerted to make a charming apology, like a true Parisian, and tore himself away.
Late as it was, as soon as we were in our own little parlor I could not forbear saying, "I was surprised at you to-night, Helen. How could you run on so? Madame Le Turc there, too! and you know the young French girls never open their lips to say more than 'Oui, monsieur'—'Non, monsieur,' to a gentleman. What will M. Vergniaud think?"
"I don't care what he thinks," flinging herself down on an ottoman with her head in my lap; "but I do care what you think, Madame Fleming. Did I behave so very badly? I didn't mean to, but I was resolved he should not get a chance to talk any nonsense to-night; and he did, after all. I hate being made love to before a whole room full. I had to laugh or else cry." And the little fairy dissolved in a shower of tears, like another Undine.
Another week went by. On Saturday afternoon Helen asked, "Will you be so kind as to take me to the little Protestant church beyond the Arc d'Étoile this evening, Madame Fleming? I should like so much to hear that good M. Bercier."
"So should I. But you have not forgotten that M. Vergniaud will be here."
"I am under no obligation to entertain Madame Le Fort's callers."