"M. de Luynes is a wizard," quoth Andrea, laughing, in answer to something that had been said.
It was afternoon. We had dined, and the bright sunshine and spring-like mildness of the weather had lured us out upon the terrace. Yvonne and Geneviève occupied the stone seat. Andrea had perched himself upon the granite balustrade, and facing them he sat, swinging his shapely legs to and fro as he chatted merrily, whilst on either side of him stood the Chevalier de Canaples and I.
"If M. de Luynes be as great a wizard in other things as with the sword, then, pardieu, he is a fearful magician," said Canaples.
I bowed, yet not so low but that I detected a sneer on Yvonne's lips.
"So, pretty lady," said I to myself, "we shall see if presently your lip will curl when I show you something of my wizard's art."
And presently my chance came. M. de Canaples found reason to leave us, and no sooner was he gone than Geneviève remembered that she had that day discovered a budding leaf upon one of the rose bushes in the garden below. Andrea naturally caused an argument by asserting that she was the victim of her fancy, as it was by far too early in the year. By that means these two found the plea they sought for quitting us, since neither could rest until the other was convinced.
So down they went into that rose garden which methought was like to prove their fool's paradise, and Yvonne and I were left alone. Then she also rose, but as she was on the point of quitting me: "Mademoiselle," I ventured, "will you honour me by remaining for a moment? There is something that I would say to you."
With raised eyebrows she gave me a glance mingled with that superciliousness which she was for ever bestowing upon me, and which, from the monotony of it alone, grew irksome.
"What can you have to say to me, M. de Luynes?"
"Will you not be seated? I shall not long detain you, nevertheless--"
"If I stand, perchance you will be more brief. I am waiting, Monsieur."
I shrugged my shoulders rudely. Why, indeed, be courteous where so little courtesy was met with?
"A little while ago, Mademoiselle, when M. de Mancini dubbed me a wizard you were good enough to sneer. Now, a sneer, Mademoiselle, implies unbelief, and I would convince you that you were wrong to disbelieve."
"If you have no other motive for detaining me, suffer me to depart," she interrupted with some warmth. "Whether you be a wizard or not is of no moment to me."