The old noble bowed low with the style of one who knew how queens should be saluted; his daughter displayed all the grace of elegant timidity, and the most flattering politeness of sincere respect.
Regarding the pair, and recalling what Philip had stated on their poverty, Marie Antoinette felt with them in their suffering.
"Your highness does Taverney Castle too much honor," said the baron; "so humble a place is nowise worthy to harbor such beauty and nobility."
"I know that I am at the doors of an old soldier of France," was the royal response, "and my mother, the Empress Maria Theresa, who often went to the wars, says that in your kingdom the richest in glory are oft the poorest in gold."
With ineffable grace she held out her hand to Andrea, who knelt to kiss it.
The dauphiness suddenly extricated the baron from his terror about harboring the great number of the retinue.
"My lords and gentlemen," she said, "it is not for you to bear the fatigue of my whims or enjoy the privileges of a royal princess. Pray, await me here; in half an hour I shall return. Come with me, Langenshausen," she said to the countess of that house who was her duenna. "Follow me, my lord," she added to the gentleman in black.
His plain attire was of remarkable style; he was a handsome person of thirty years and smooth manners; he stood aside to let the princess go by. She took Andrea to her side and motioned Philip to follow. The baron fell into place next the fashionable gentleman.
"So you are a Taverney of Redcastle?" queried this fop, as he preened his fine honiton lace ruffles with aristocratic impertinence.
"Am I to answer a gentleman or a nobleman?" returned the baron with equal sauciness.
"Prince will do," said the other, "or eminence."
"Well, yes, your eminence, I am a real Taverney," replied the poor nobleman, without dropping the insolent tone he usually kept.
The prince had the tact of great lords, for he readily perceived that he was not dealing with a rustic hobbledehoy.
"I suppose this is your summer residence?" he continued.
"My residence in all seasons," replied the baron, desiring to finish with this examination, but accompanying his answers with deep bows.
Philip kept turning round to his father with uneasiness; the house seemed towering up to exhibit more and more of their penury. The baron was just holding his hand toward the sill, deserted by visitors, when the dauphiness turned to him, saying:
"Excuse me not going indoors, but these shady spots are so pleasant that I could pass my life beneath them. I am rather weary of interiors. For a fortnight I have been received under roofs—and I like open air, flowers and the shade of foliage. Might I not have a drink of milk in this bower?"
"What a mean refreshment, your highness!" faltered the baron.
"I prefer it, with new-laid eggs, my lord. Such formed my feasts at Schoenbrunn."
All of a sudden, Labrie, puffed up with pride in a showy livery, and holding a damask napkin, appeared in the jessamine hung arbor which the archduchess was eyeing covetously.
"The refreshment is ready for your royal highness," he said with a neat mingling of respect and serenity.
"Am I housed by an enchanter?" exclaimed the princess, darting into the bower.
The perturbed baron forgot etiquette to leave the gentleman in black and run after his guest.
Philip and Andrea looked at each other with even more anxiety than astonishment.
Under the twining clematis, jessamine and honeysuckle an oval table was set, dazzling from the whiteness of the damask cloth and the carved bullion plate upon it. Ten sets of silver awaited as many guests. A choice but strange collation attracted the visitor's gaze. Foreign fruit preserved in sugar; cake and crackers from Aleppo and Madeira, oranges and melons of uncommon size, set in large vases. The richest and noblest wines glittered in all hues of ruby and topaz in four cut-glass Persian decanters. The milk asked for filled a crystal cup.
"But you must have expected me, since in no ten minutes which I have been here could this sumptuous spread be placed." And the princess glanced at Labrie as much as to say: "With only one servant, too?"
"I did expect your royal highness," faltered the baron; "of your coming being apprised."
"If your son did not inform you by letter, then it must have been some fairy—I suppose, the godmother of your daughter."
"It was not so much a fairy, as a magician," said Taverney, offering a seat to the princess. "I do not know anything about how he has done this, as I do not dabble in magic, but I owe it to him that I am fitly entertaining your highness."
"Then I will have none of it. It is contrary to the faith—but his eminence is going to sin, with that liver-pie!"
"We are rather too worldly, we princes of the Church," replied the gentleman in black, "to believe the celestial wrath poisons victuals, and we are too human to visit ill on magicians who provide such good things."
"But I assure your eminence that this is a real sorcerer who conjured up this board ready spread, and who may have produced the gold of this service in the same manner."
"Does he know of the stone which changes all into gold?" questioned the churchman, with his eyes kindling with covetousness.
"This pleases the cardinal, who has passed his life seeking the philosopher's stone," said the princess.
"I own that I find nothing more interesting than supernatural things," returned the prince; "nothing more curious than what's impossible."
"So I have hit the vital spot, have I?" said the archduchess. "Every great man has a mystery, particularly when he is a diplomatist. Let me warn your eminence that I also am a witch, and that I can see into matters—if not curious and impossible—incredible."
This was an incomprehensible enigma to all but the cardinal, for he was plainly embarrassed. The gentle eye of the Austrian had flared with one of those fires denoting a storm gathering. But there was no thunderous outbreak, for she went on, restraining herself:
"Come my lord of Taverney, make the feast complete by producing your magician. Where is he? In what box have you put Old Hocus Pocus?"
"Labrie, notify Baron Joseph Balsamo that her Royal Highness the Dauphiness desires to see him."
"Balsamo?" repeated the high lady, as the valet started off. "What an odd name!"
"I fancy I have heard it before," murmured the cardinal.
Five minutes passed with none thinking of breaking the stillness, when Andrea shuddered, for she heard before any other the step beneath the foliage. The branches were parted and right in front of Marie Antoinette, Joseph Balsamo appeared.
Chapter XI.
A Marvel Of Magic.
