“That is, she is too fast!” said De Pean mockingly. “But have you thrown a golden apple at her feet to stop your runaway nymph?”
“I have thrown myself at her feet, De Pean! and in vain,” said Le Gardeur, gulping down another cup of brandy.
De Pean watched the effect of the deep potations which Le Gardeur now poured down to quench the rising fires kindled in his breast. “Come here, Le Gardeur,” said he; “I have a message for you which I would not deliver before, lest you might be angry.”
De Pean led him into a recess of the room. “You are wanted in the city,” whispered he. “Angélique sent this little note by me. She put it in my hand as I was embarking for Tilly, and blushed redder than a rose as she did so. I promised to deliver it safely to you.”
It was a note quaintly folded in a style Le Gardeur recognized well, inviting him to return to the city. Its language was a mixture of light persiflage and tantalizing coquetry,—she was dying of the dullness of the city! The late ball at the Palace had been a failure, lacking the presence of Le Gardeur! Her house was forlorn without the visits of her dear friend, and she wanted his trusty counsel in an affair of the last importance to her welfare and happiness!
“That girl loves you, and you may have her for the asking!” continued De Pean, as Le Gardeur sat crumpling the letter up in his hand. De Pean watched his countenance with the eye of a basilisk.
“Do you think so?” asked Le Gardeur eagerly. “But no, I have no more faith in woman; she does not mean it!”
“But if she does mean it, would you go, Le Gardeur?”
“Would I go?” replied he, excitedly. “Yes, I would go to the lowest pit in hell for her! But why are you taunting me, De Pean!”
“I taunt you? Read her note again! She wants your trusty counsel in an affair of the last importance to her welfare and happiness. You know what is the affair of last importance to a woman! Will you refuse her now, Le Gardeur?”