Even as he sat down, a second flower struck him more sharply in the face,
and this time he darted not to the window but to the door. He opened it
quickly and looked out, but again he was too late.
"I shall catch you presently, ma reine!" he murmured tenderly, with
intent to be heard. And he closed the door. But, wiser this time, he
waited with his hand on the latch until he heard the rustling of a skirt,
and saw the line of light at the foot of the door darkened by a shadow.
That moment he flung the door wide, and, clasping the wearer of the skirt
in his arms, kissed her lips before she had time to resist.
Then he fell back as if he had been shot! For the wearer of the skirt,
she whom he had kissed, was Madame St. Lo's woman, and behind her stood
Madame herself, laughing, laughing, laughing with all the gay abandonment
of her light little heart.
"Oh, the gallant gentleman!" she cried, and clapped her hands effusively.
"Was ever recovery so rapid? Or triumph so speedy? Suzanne, my child;
you surpass Venus. Your charms conquer before they are seen!"
M. de Tignonville had put poor Suzanne from him as if she burned; and hot
and embarrassed, cursing his haste, he stood looking awkwardly at them.
"Madame," he stammered at last, "you know quite well that--"
"Seeing is believing!"
"That I thought it was you!"
"Oh, what I have lost!" she replied. And she looked archly at Suzanne,
who giggled and tossed her head.
He was growing angry. "But, Madame," he protested, "you know--"
"I know what I know, and I have seen what I have seen!" Madame answered
merrily. And she hummed, "'Ce fut le plus grand jour d'este
Que m'embrassa la belle Suzanne!' Oh yes, I know what I know!" she repeated. And she fell again to
laughing immoderately; while the pretty piece of mischief beside her hung
her head, and, putting a finger in her mouth, mocked him with an
affectation of modesty.
The young man glowered at them between rage and embarrassment. This was
not the reception, nor this the hero's return to which he had looked
forward. And a doubt began to take form in his mind. The mistress he
had pictured would not laugh at kisses given to another; nor forget in a
twinkling the straits through which he had come to her, the hell from
which he had plucked himself! Possibly the court ladies held love as
cheap as this, and lovers but as playthings, butts for their wit, and
pegs on which to hang their laughter. But--but he began to doubt, and,
perplexed and irritated, he showed his feelings.