too."
"Then I will walk out of the castle alone."
"Hardly, for the gates are locked and the keys hang at the governor's belt."
"Pest on it! we have one castle strictly guarded!"
The countess lounged on a divan, playing with a rose, less red than her coral lips.
"But we might go in quest of him," she said, rising. "Chon, carry the light before his majesty."
The little procession of three had barely reached the end of the first hall before a whiff of delicious odor set the royal mouth watering.
"You smell supper, my lord," explained the countess. "I thought you were going to partake with me, and I had a feast prepared."
The king reflected that if he went on to Marly he would find nothing but a cold collation. Here, through a doorway open he saw a table set for two. The odor continued to scent the house.
"Bless us! you have a good cook."
"I do not know, for this is his first attempt to please us. I engaged him because he has a reputation for a choice omelet of pheasants' eggs."
"My favorite dish! I should not like to grieve your new cook, countess, and I might taste it while we wait for the governor to finish his inspection. But who will wait upon us?" he asked, entering.
"I hope to do so without upsetting any of this iced champagne—a new invention, of which I wish your opinion."
"I fear I shall never take it from your hand, for it fascinates me into solely admiring it."
"Ah, if my hired eulogists would say something so sweet as that!"
"I see that I must let you have your own way," and he settled down in an easy chair like one who was put in good humor by the prospect of a luxurious repast.
They finished it with coffee burnt in brandy, with a paper which the king held while the fair cajoler lighted.
"That is bad luck to the Choiseul party," said she; "that was one of the lampoons against us which they inspire and allow to be circulated."
"Did I call you a fay? I mistook: you are a demon."
The countess rose.
"I think I had better see if Governor Zamore is not on the return."
But the king shook his head, inflamed by the punch, the tokay and the champagne. He was conscious of still another perfume, and his nose directed him to a doorway suddenly opened. It led into a tempting chamber, hung with sky-blue satin, embroidered with flowers in their natural colors, an alcove where a mysterious soft light reigned.
"Well, sire, the governor seems to have locked us in. And unless we save ourselves out of window with the curtains——"
"No, do not let us pull them down—rather, draw them close!"
He opened his arms, laughing, and the beauty let the rose fall from her teeth and it burst all its petals open as it reached the carpet.
Chapter XXI.
Countess Cut Countess.
On the road to Paris from Luciennes the poor Countess Dubarry was racing along like a disembodied spirit. An advice from her brother Jean had dashed her down when she had brought the king to the point of arranging for her presentation day.
"So the old donkey has fooled us?" she cried, when she was alone with him.
"I am afraid so. But listen: I stayed in town because I am not trustful like you—and I am not wrong. An hour before the time when I ought to call for the old countess at her inn, I met my man Patrick at the door, where I had sent him to stand sentry since daybreak. He had seen nothing wrong, and I left the carriage and went up stairs quite assured. At her door a woman stopped me to say that her mistress had upset the chocolate, which she boiled herself, on her foot, and was crippled."
"Oh, heavens! you drive me to despair, Jean."
"I am not in despair. You can do what I could not; if there be any imposture you can discover it, and somehow we will punish her. I was consulting a lawyer; he says we must not thrash a person in a house; it is fine and prison, while without——"
"Beat a woman, a countess of the old stock? You mad rogue, let me rather see her and try another method."
Jean conducted her to the Chanticleer Inn, where the old lady dwelt. At the foot of the stairs she was stopped by the landlady.
"Countess Bearn is ill," she said.
"Just so; I am coming to see how she is," and Jeanne darted by her as nimble as a fawn.
"Your ladyship here!" ejaculated the old lady, on seeing the court beauty's face screwed up into the conventional expression of condolence.
"I have only just learnt of the accident. You seem to be in much pain."
"My right foot is scalded. But misfortunes will happen."
"But you know the king expected you this morning?"
"You double my despair, lady."
"His majesty was vexed at your not coming."
"My excuse is in my sufferings, and I must present my most humble excuses to his majesty."
"I am not saying this to cause you pain," said Lady Dubarry, seeing that the old noblewoman was angry, "but just to show you how set his majesty was on seeing you for the step which made him grateful. I regret the accident the more as I think it was due to your excitement from meeting a certain person abruptly at my house."
"The lady who came as I went away?"
"The same; my sister, Mademoiselle Dubarry; only she bore another name when you met her—that of Mademoiselle Flageot."
"Oh, indeed!" said the old dame, with unhidden sourness. "Did you send her to deceive me?"
"No, to do you a service at the same time as you did me one. Let us speak seriously. In spite of your wound, painful but not dangerous, could you make the effort to ride to Luciennes and stand up a short while before the king?"
"Impossible; if you could bear the sight——"
"I wish to assure myself of its extent."
To her great surprise, while writhing in agony, the lady let Jeanne undo the bandage and expose a burn, horridly raw. It spoke eloquently, for, as Lady Bearn had seen and recognized Chon, this self-inflicted hurt raised her to the height of Mutius Scaevola.
The visitor mutely admired. Come to consciousness, the old countess fully enjoyed her triumph; her wild eye gloated on the young woman kneeling at her foot. The latter replaced the bands with the tenderness of her sex to the ailing, placed the limb on the cushions as before,
