Part IV.—The Immolation.
LV.
The clock had just struck two. Vera, according to her custom, was waiting in the ante-room of the empress' audience-chamber. The door was soon opened by an usher, and the person she was waiting to introduce appeared. There was an involuntary movement of surprise on the part of both. Fleurange stopped as if in doubt. Vera's appearance did not correspond with the idea she had formed of the lady-in-waiting she expected to find at her majesty's door, and for an instant she thought she was in the presence of the empress herself.
Vera, on her side, expected still less to see a petitioner like the one who now appeared.
The Princess Catherine, with her usual forethought, had, in view of this important occasion, carefully prepared a dress for her who was to be regarded as her son's fiancée, and, when the day came, the young girl opened a coffer which had a special place among her luggage, and followed with docility the instructions she there found in the princess' own handwriting, with the dress she was to wear. It was black, as etiquette then required, but a court dress, and the princess took pleasure in having it made as magnificent as possible. [pg 601] Fleurange thus arrayed was dazzling. Nevertheless, her only ornaments were a gold chain from which was suspended a cross concealed in her corsage (a precious gift from her father which she never laid aside), and on her right arm a bracelet the Princess Catherine had taken from her own wrist the eve of the young girl's departure, assuring her it would bring her good luck. She wore no ornament on her head, but her beautiful hair was turned back and plaited in a way not common at that time, though so becoming and striking as to add another peculiar charm to that of her whole person, which was as noble as if she was entitled to a place at court, but simple enough to show that she now appeared there for the first time.
The two young girls looked at each other, and, as we have said, their surprise was mutual. But it was only for an instant. Vera advanced.
“Mademoiselle Fleurange d'Yves, I suppose?”
Fleurange bowed.
“The empress awaits you: follow me.” She turned towards the door, but before opening it she said: “Take off the glove on your right hand—that is etiquette—and hold your petition in that.”
Fleurange mechanically ungloved her beautiful hand in which trembled the paper she held. She stopped a moment, pale and agitated.