"And one for yourself--black, but mine white; and I only give you twenty minutes to do it in."
"Are we going to the ball?"
"Yes, if you are obedient."
"Oh, always."
"Go, then, and show your zeal."
"I run; but the money?"
"You have twenty-five louis, that you picked up."
"Oh, Oliva, I thought you meant to give me those."
"You shall have more another time, but if I give you them now, you will stop and play."
"She is right," said he to himself; "that is just what I intended to do;" and he set off.
As soon as he was gone, Oliva wrote rapidly these words: "The peace is signed, and the ball decided on; at two o"clock we shall be at the Opera. I shall wear a white domino, with a blue ribbon on my left shoulder." Then, rolling this round a bit of the broken vase, she went to the window and threw it out.
The valet picked it up, and made off immediately.
In less than half an hour M. Beausire returned, followed by two men, bringing, at the cost of eighteen louis, two beautiful dominoes, such as were only turned out at the Capucin, makers to her majesty and the maids of honor.
CHAPTER XXI.
LA PEt.i.tE MAISON.
We left Madame de la Motte at M. Mesmer"s door, watching the queen"s carriage as it drove off. Then she went home; for she also intended to put on a domino, and indulge herself by going to the Opera. But a contretemps awaited her: a man was waiting at her door with a note from the Cardinal de Rohan. She opened it, and read as follows:
"Madame la Comtesse, you have doubtless not forgotten that we have business together; even if you have a short memory, I never forget what has pleased me. I shall have the honor to wait for you where my messenger will conduct you, if you please to come."
Jeanne, although rather vexed, immediately reentered the coach, and told the footman to get on the box with the coachman. Ten minutes sufficed to bring her to the entrance of the Faubourg St. Antoine, where, in a hollow and completely hidden by great trees, was one of those pretty houses built in the time of Louis XV., with all the taste of the sixteenth, with the comfort of the eighteenth, century.
"Oh, oh! a pet.i.te maison!" said she to herself. "It is very natural on the part of M. de Rohan, but very humiliating for Valois. But, patience."
She was led from room to room till she came to a small dining-room, fitted up with exquisite taste. There she found the cardinal waiting for her. He was looking over some pamphlets, but rose immediately on seeing her.
"Ah, here you are. Thanks, Madame la Comtesse," and he approached to kiss her hand; but she drew back with a reproachful and indignant air.
"What is the matter, madame?" he asked.
"You are, doubtless, not accustomed, monseigneur, to receive such a greeting from the women whom your eminence is in the habit of summoning here."
"Oh! madame."
"We are in your pet.i.te maison, are we not, sir?" continued she, looking disdainfully around her.
"But, madame----"
"I had hoped that your eminence would have deigned to remember in what rank I was born. I had hoped that you would have been pleased to consider, that if G.o.d has made me poor, He has at least left me the pride of my race."
"Come, come, countess, I took you for a woman of intellect."
"You call a woman of intellect, it appears, monseigneur, every one who is indifferent to, and laughs at, everything, even dishonor. To these women, pardon me, your eminence, I have been in the habit of giving a different name."
"No, countess, you deceive yourself; I call a woman of intellect one who listens when you speak to her, and does not speak before having listened."
"I listen, then."
"I had to speak to you of serious matters, countess."
"Therefore you receive me in a dining-room."
"Why, would you have preferred my receiving you in a boudoir?"
"The distinction is nice," said she.
"I think so, countess."
"Then I am simply to sup with you?"
"Nothing else."
"I trust your eminence is persuaded that I feel the honor as I ought."
"You are quizzing, countess."
"No, I only laugh; would you rather I were angry? You are difficult to please, monseigneur."
"Oh; you are charming when you laugh, and I ask nothing better than to see you always doing so; but at this moment you are not laughing; oh, no! there is anger in that smile which shows your beautiful teeth."
"Not the least in the world, monseigneur."
"That is good."
"And I hope you will sup well."
"I shall sup well, and you?"
"Oh, I am not hungry."
"How, madame, you refuse to sup with me--you send me away?"