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I quickly asked De Rilly. "The one with the indolent attitude, and the mocking smile?" "Yes, the very beautiful one, with the big gray eyes. By heaven, her eyes rival those of Marguerite, herself!" "That is Mlle. d'Arency, a new recruit to Catherine's Flying Squadron." Her face more than carried out the promise given by her chin and mouth.
"It cannot be that; if they had desired your death, they would have hired assassins to waylay you." Yet I knew that he was right. The strange request that Mlle. d'Arency had made of me in the church was now explained. A kind of smile appeared, for a moment, on De Noyard's face, struggling with his expression of weakness and pain.
Angered at having to give ground in the presence of the lady, I now attacked in turn, somewhat recklessly, but with such good luck as to drive him back almost to the window. Mlle. d'Arency gave another terrified scream when he came near her, and she ran past me towards the door of the apartment.
The pastry-cook must have been convinced of two things before Mlle. d'Arency came out of church: first, that his fortune was made if this new customer, myself, should only continue to patronize him; second, that there existed, at least, one human stomach able to withstand unlimited quantities of his wares.
She had lately lived part of the time in her new palace of the Tuileries, and part of the time in her Hotel des Filles Repenties, holding her council in either of these places, and going to the Louvre daily for the signature of the King to the documents of her own fabrication. At this time, Mlle. d'Arency was one of the ladies of the Queen-mother's bedchamber, and so slept in the Louvre.
But I observed it, although not till long afterward did I see its significance. It was a mere exchange of glances, and little did I read in it the secret which was destined to have so vast an effect on my own life, to give my whole career its course. It was no more than this: Catherine turned her glance, quickly, from De Noyard to Mlle. d'Arency, who had already been observing her.
It was natural that she should close the door, instinct impelling her to put any possible barrier between her assailant and herself. The man and myself were alone together to maintain the fight which, having once entered, and being roused to the mood of contest, I had no thought of discontinuing now that Mlle. d'Arency was out of immediate danger.
Mlle. d'Arency well knew that I would not incriminate a woman, even a perfidious one, and counted also on my natural unwillingness to reveal myself as the dupe that I had been. Moreover, it would not be possible for me to tell the truth in such a way that it would appear probable. And what would I gain by telling the truth?
A second later, I heard a sword slide from its scabbard, and felt the wind of a wild thrust in my direction. At this moment, Mlle d'Arency appeared between me and the street window of the room. There was enough light from the sky to enable her head and shoulders to stand out darkly against the space of the window.
He would only put himself in danger of having fabricated a false accusation against the King's sister. I deemed it best to go from the vicinity of the Louvre at once, and I did so, with a last wistful look at the windows behind which Mlle. d'Arency might or might not be reposing. I did not reappear there until the next morning.
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