The vividness of his account pleased her, and at the end she was permitting him to drink her health, when they were interrupted by an exclamation, and saw de Grancey pointing to the table. A surprise of an ingenious nature was occurring before their eyes. The artificial hoar frost which gave such beauty to the miniature landscape was slowly melting with the heat of the room, and during the process the guests saw the thawing of the river, the budding of the trees, and the blossoming of the various flowers take place, as spring succeeded winter. A little cry of delight leaped involuntarily from the lips of the sweet la Roche Vernay and she smiled exquisitely on Germain, who, in that moment, wildly lost his heart.
[CHAPTER VII]
"THE LEAP IS TAKEN"
"Who is this Monsieur de Répentigny, Chevalier?—tell me," asked the Princess, who was holding her little evening court in full circle on the balustraded terrace behind the château. She sat well out where there was plenty of room for the swell and spread of her vast garland-flounced skirts,—a woman of something less than forty, the incarnation of inane condescension. At her feet were her two pages—rosy little boys, dressed exactly like full-grown gentlemen. The ladies of her circle sat around her, each likewise skirt-voluminous, all pretending to be negligently engaged unravelling scraps of gold and silver lace, the great fashionable occupation of the day. Her reader stood behind her.
The Chevalier, when addressed, had just remounted the steps from the lawn to the terrace with the Prince. He made a smiling bow.
"Monsieur de Répentigny?" he inquired. "I do not know of whom—ah, it is of Germain you speak."
Only the little Abbé, crouching, noted the first half of his answer. He treasured it away in his memory.
"Monsieur Germain then," continued the Princess—"this Canadian gentleman. Is he one of your relations?"
"One of my dearest, Madame. Why do you ask?"
"Because he is the most adorable of men. He has explained to me the coiffure Montgolfier."