Part 31 (1/2)

”I suppose neither of you can tell me where he has gone? Can you, De Lorges?” And he turned to the page; but the boy only grew redder, and began to make a fumbling reply.

Mademoiselle Davila, however, cut in. ”He has gone to the masque.”

And with a burst of confidence as she rose to her feet: ”The Queen has gone too, monsieur.”

”To the masque! The masque she said she would never attend!”

”Oh, the Queen is a woman, monsieur! And so she has gone, and gone masked, too, with Monsieur de Lorgnac in attendance--not a soul else--and I have been left here--ah!” And she stamped her little foot.

”One cannot even hear the music. Oh! it is a grave, this place--a grave!”

”Faith! I know those who would think this little waiting-room a heaven.”

”Who?” She was a good girl, but a coquette to her finger-tips, and the bait took.

Ere he answered Le Brusquet slipped his arm through that of the page, who seemed to be meditating flight.

”That, mademoiselle,” he said slyly, ”is a secret between De Lorges and myself.”

Mademoiselle coloured very prettily, and half turning from her tormentor, said:

”I shall never speak to you again, monsieur--never.”

”Mademoiselle, if you keep that vow I shall die in a week; but see, I will make amends. Why not slip on a hood and go to the masque? De Lorges will be proud to escort you.”

She looked around her, half delighted, half frightened at the thought, and then, with a nervous laugh:

”I dare not risk it.”

”Why not? Not a soul will know; and if there is any trouble say that Le Brusquet played an evil turn on you, and told you you were summoned by the Queen. I will not deny it; and it will still Madame de Montal's tongue. Come, De Lorges, persuade her.”

”It would be a rare jest, mademoiselle!” And, trembling with eagerness, De Lorges made a step forward.

She stood wavering. There was another word of encouragement from Le Brusquet, and she took the plunge.

”A moment,” she said, and vanished into the inner room.

”_Eh bien_, monsieur,” and Le Brusquet turned towards De Lorges, ”you have a great trust to-night; guard it carefully.”

”Monsieur,” replied the boy, ”with my life,” and he touched the hilt of his little sword. He was a gallant lad this son of Montgomery de Lorges.

Le Brusquet bowed to hide the twinkle in his eyes; and now Mademoiselle Davila reappeared, disguised in a red hood and mask.

”No one will guess.” And Le Brusquet surveyed her with a critical air, whilst De Lorges, who longed to be off, burst out: ”Come, mademoiselle!

I shall steal a mask and hood from somewhere later on.”

But a new obstacle had arisen. ”I forgot,” she said, ”the guard at the door.”

”Rea.s.sure yourself, mademoiselle. It is a friend--Orrain.”

”The hero!” And she clapped her hands. ”Come, De Lorges.” And, with a little nod to Le Brusquet, she ran to the door, followed by the page.