As André entered he gazed from one to the other with the calmness of a great fear. What had he come to be told? He saw Denise’s mind was made up, and he knew he must obey.
“André,” she said, with dignified composure, “you will please bring the chief of police from the court-yard to this room.”
For an instant he wavered, then controlling his emotion he left the room. When he returned with the chief of police one woman, hooded and cloaked, alone was there.
Denise threw back the girl’s cloak which she had slipped on. The police agent started with intense surprise.
“You recognise me, Monsieur,” Denise said freezingly. “Yes, it is the Marquise de Beau Séjour, and one of the maids of honour to her Majesty, who is not accustomed to be shadowed when she visits a house that belongs to herself, as this does.”
“I offer my apologies to Mademoiselle la Marquise,” the man stammered, “but I thought—I felt sure——”
“What you chose to think,” Denise pursued, “can be no excuse for so insulting a mistake. The Marquise de Beau Séjour will, however, overlook it for once, provided that you promise not to repeat the offence. That will do.”
She turned her back on his fervent avowals and the man crept from her haughty presence. In five minutes the court-yard was clear of Madame de Pompadour’s spies.
Denise had fetched the stranger back. “André,” she said, “be so good as to conduct this lady yourself to the barriers. I will wait for you here.”
The girl quietly put on her cloak. “Adieu, Mademoiselle!” They clasped hands in silence. “Adieu—Denise,” she whispered. “Adieu for ever!” Without another word André and she left the room.