“Do not be afraid,” he whispered, “this is curtained off. You can stay here for an hour if you like, no one will come through before then; only, when you leave, be sure and turn the key again, and bring it to me.”
I thanked him, and he left, closing the door noiselessly behind him; and then approaching the curtains, I carefully parted them, and looked out on the ball-room.
[CHAPTER XXI]
I AWAKE FROM MY DREAM
It was a scene that would have done credit to a much larger centre than Quebec. It is true the walls were bare of any fitting decoration, the windows too small to break them with any effect, the chandeliers mean in size, and the sconces but makeshifts; still, the room was imposing in its proportions and the company brilliant.
I recognised the Intendant without difficulty. He was a small man, delicately formed, and wore his dark red hair with but little powder. He was most handsomely dressed, his carriage was dignified and easy, and the charm of which Angélique had spoken was at once apparent; I quite understood how one might forget the plain, sickly face, marked by the traces of excess, for it was frank and open, and one could not but acknowledge its strength.
I saw, too, M. Poulariez, looking very handsome in his new white uniform of the Royal Rouissillon; the Major Joannès, and others whom Angélique had described, or we had seen from our windows on their way to one or other of the three divinities of the rue du Parloir. They were all there, vying with each other, Mme. de Lanaudière, Mme. de Beaubassin, and Mme. Péan, and though their dresses were doubtless far behind the mode, they were all three noticeable women, and dressed with discretion.
At the opposite end were the musicians, whose efforts were surprisingly good; and in a long gallery down one side stood the onlookers, crowding it to its utmost capacity. Angélique sate the centre of an animated group at no great distance from where I was hidden, and her evident delight in the merry trifling that went on about her made a charming picture; but he whom I sought was not one of the little court before her, and I scanned the room eagerly. For the first time I realised that he might be changed; that I had changed much myself—for ten years is a long time out of one's life—and with a pang I thought of Angélique's girlish freshness, and wished I could have remained eighteen for his sake.
At last! My heart leaped within me, and my eyes swam so I could hardly see, for there was Hugh, the one and only love of my life! “Oh, Hugh! Hugh! my darling!” I murmured, forgetful of all, save that my dreamings had come true, and my eyes had been granted their desire.
He was coming slowly down the room, making his way gracefully through the crowd, bowing and occasionally speaking to other guests as he passed. It pained me to see how thin and worn his face had grown; but, if anything, it was handsomer than ever, though, like that of most of the officers, it was too brown from constant exposure. How could Angélique call him old? For his figure was as light and graceful as I ever pictured it, and his bearing as perfect as of yore. He was not in uniform, but was fittingly dressed in a puce-coloured coat, relieved with narrow silver braid, and his white satin waistcoat and small-clothes were ornamented in the same manner.