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They skirted the chateau, and Beauchamp had the history of Dame Philiberte recounted to him, with a mixture of Gallic irony, innuendo, openness, touchingness, ridicule, and charity novel to his ears. Madame d'Auffray struck the note of intimacy earlier than is habitual. It was done delicately, like the tap of a finger-nail on a vase.
That is very soon; but M. Beauchamp is engaged in an Election, and what have we to induce him to stay? 'Would it not be better to tell M. Beauchamp why he was invited to come? rejoined Madame d'Auffray. The sombre light in Renee's eyes quickened through shadowy spheres of surprise and pain to resolution. She cried, 'You have my full consent, and left them.
So she talked lightly of 'the legitimate king, and they embraced: a situation of comedy quite as true as that presented by the humble admirers of the brilliant chatelaine. Beauchamp had the pleasure of rowing Madame la Marquise to the short shaded walk separating the river from Chateau Dianet, whither M. d'Orbec went on horseback, and Madame d'Auffray and M. Livret were driven.
Tell me: the legitimate king returns when? 'In two days or three. 'And his rebel subjects are to address him how? Madame d'Auffray smote the point of a finger softly on her cheek. 'Will they be pardoned? said Renee. 'It is for him to kneel, my dearest. 'Legitimacy kneeling for forgiveness is a painful picture, Agnes. Legitimacy jealous of a foreigner is an odd one.
'He is particularly handsome. 'We women think so. Did you take him to be . . . eccentric? Beauchamp gave a French jerk of the shoulders. It confessed the incident of the glove to one who knew it as well as he: but it masked the weight he was beginning to attach to that incident, and Madame d'Auffray was misled.
Madame d'Auffray heard some of their dialogue, and hurried with a mouth full of comedy to Renee, who did not reproach them for silly beings, as would be done elsewhere. On the contrary, she appreciated a scene of such absolute comedy, recognizing it instantly as a situation plucked out of human nature.
Alive to his own indirectness, he was conscious at once of the slight sign of reservation, and said: 'Tell me . . . and swerved sheer away from his question: 'how is Madame d'Auffray? 'Agnes? I left her at Tourdestelle, said Renee. 'And Roland? He never writes to me. 'Neither he nor I write much. He is at the military camp of instruction in the North. 'He will run over to us.
'Has she, do you think, increased in beauty? Madame d'Auffray inquired: an insidious question, to which he replied: 'Once I thought it would be impossible. Not so bad an answer for an Englishman, in a country where speaking is fencing; the race being little famous for dialectical alertness: but was it artful or simple?
However, we are women, born to our lot. If we could rise en masse! but we cannot. Embrace me. Madame d'Auffray embraced her, without an idea that she assisted in performing the farewell of their confidential intimacy.
There was nothing to make him be on his guard, and he stated that he was looking for Madame de Rouaillout, and did not conceal surprise at the information that she was out on horseback. 'She is a tireless person, Madame d'Auffray remarked. 'You will not miss her long. We all meet at twelve, as you know. 'I grudge an hour, for I go to-morrow, said Beauchamp.
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