These Old Shades

forward.

An hour later it seemed to Leonie that the whole house was full of gaily dressed ladies and gentlemen. She had curtsied a hundred times; she still could hear my lady’s voice saying: “I have the honour to present to you Mademoiselle de Bonnard, madame, my brother’s ward.”

Very early in the evening Avon had come to her with a young man beside him: a young man dressed in the height of fashion, with orders on his breast, and a marvellous wig upon his head. Avon had said:

“My ward, Prince. Leonie, M. le Prince de Conde desires an introduction.”

She curtsied very low; Conde bent over her hand.

“But, mademoiselle is ravissante!” he murmured.

Leonie rose from her curtsy, and smiled shyly. M. le Prince laid a hand over his heart.

“Mademoiselle will honour me for this first dance?” he said.

She thought him a charming boy, no more. She put her hand on his arm, and smiled sunnily up at him.

“Yes, please, m’sieur. It is my very own ball! Is it not exciting?”

Conde, accustomed to debutantes who were properly bored, was enchanted with this frank enjoyment. The fiddlers struck up, the couples took their places behind him and Leonie.

“Must we go first?” she asked confidentially.

“But yes, mademoiselle, surely!” he smiled. “You lead your very own ball.”

Lady Fanny, standing by the door, touched Rupert’s arm.

“Who has the child got for partner? It should be a prince of the Blood at least, by the orders! Who is it?”

“Young Conde,” Rupert answered. “You wouldn’t know him, Fan. He’s only twenty or so.”

“La, how did Justin get him here so early?” gasped my lady. “He to lead her out! She’s made for life! Look, he’s laughing! Oh, she has captivated him, never fret!”

She turned her head to find Avon behind her. “Justin, how did you contrive to get Conde here so early? You’re a wizard, I vow!”

“Yes, it was well thought of, was it not?” said his Grace. “You will present her next to De Brionne. He is just come. Who is that child with the silver roses on her gown?”

“My dear, I don’t know! There are so many new faces I protest I cannot remember to whom they all belong! Justin, Conde is enchanted! There’s not a man in the room will not hasten to Leonie’s side having seen him so enraptured! Ah, madame!” She rustled away to greet a late-comer.

“I think I’ll go to the card-room and take charge there,” said Rupert ingenuously, and prepared to depart.

“Quite unnecessary, my child,” said his Grace, barring the way. “Hugh has it well in hand. You, boy, will lead out Mademoiselle de Vauvallon.”

“Oh, lud!” groaned Rupert, but he moved away to where Mademoiselle was seated.

When next Fanny had leisure to observe Leonie she saw her seated on a couch in an alcove, drinking negus with her partner. The two seemed to be enjoying themselves hugely. Fanny watched, well pleased, and presently, evading the group of young men who were one and all clamouring for an introduction, she took the Comte de Brionne over to the alcove, and presented him. Conde rose, and made a leg.

“Oh, mademoiselle, you must save one little minuet for me later!” he said. “When may it be?”

“We will meet somewhere,” said Leonie. “I know! Under the big palm over there, at—at ten minutes past eleven!” She twinkled. “That is like an adventure!”

“Mademoiselle, I shall be there!” Conde promised, laughing.

Fanny stepped forward.

“My brother’s ward, m’sieur. M. de Brionne, Leonie.”

Leonie set down her glass, rose, and curtsied. Her brow was wrinkled. Inexorably Fanny bore Conde away.

“Mademoiselle looks worried?” De Brionne gave her her glass again.

She turned to him, and smiled engagingly.

“M’sieur, I am very stupid. I cannot remember who you are!”

De Brionne was taken aback for a moment. It was not thus that young ladies were wont to address the son of Louis de Lorraine. But he could not resist the fascination of Leonie’s eyes. Moreover, where Conde had been pleased De Brionne would certainly not be affronted. He returned the smile.

“You are new come to Paris, mademoiselle?”

She nodded.

“Yes, m’sieur. Now let me think. I know! You are the son of the Comte d’Armagnac—M. le Grand!”

The Comte was much amused. It was probable that he had never before met a lady who pondered thus nadvely over his genealogy. He settled down to enjoy himself, and found that he was required to name most of the people who passed, for Leonie’s edification.

“Voyons, m’sieur, you know everybody!” she said presently. “You are being very useful to me. Now tell me who it is dancing with Monseigneur?”

“Monseigneur?”

“Yes, the Duc—my—my guardian.”

“Oh—! That is Madame du Deffand.”

“Truly?” Leonie regarded the lady intently. “She amuses him, I think.”

“She is a very amusing lady,” said De Brionne gravely. “Did Conde point our notables out to you?”

“No—no.” Leonie dimpled. “We found such a lot of other things to talk about, m’sieur. He told me about duels, and what it is like to be a royal prince.”

De Brionne began to laugh.

“Did you ask him, mademoiselle?”

“Yes, m’sieur,” said Leonie innocently.

In the doorway Fanny was curtsying low to the Duc de Penthicvre, who had just arrived. He kissed her hand with pretty gallantry.

“My dear Lady Fanny! One was bouleverse when one learned of the return of the so charming Lady Fanny!”

“Ah, m’sieur!” She smiled, and spread out her fan.

Avon came up with Madame du Deffand on his arm.

“My dear Penthicvre, I am rejoiced to see you.”

“Mon cher Duc! Madame, votre serviteur.” He swept a bow. “Tell me, Alastair, where is this ward one hears tell of?”

“My ward . . . let me see, she was with De Brionne a moment ago. No, she is dancing now with my brother. In white, with the rose in her hair.”

De Penthicvre looked across the room to where Leonie was circling gracefully with Rupert. Their hands were held high, her foot was pointed, and she was laughing.

“So!” said de Penthicvre. “Our debutantes will tear their powdered locks, Duc!”

The rooms grew more crowded. Some time later Lady Fanny, proceeding to the refreshment room, met her husband in the hall, and said radiantly:

“My dearest love, what a success! Have you seen the child? De Penthicvre has danced with her, and Conde! Where’s Justin?”

“Gone into the little salon. You’re satisfied, sweet?”

“Satisfied! Paris will talk of naught but this ball and Leonie for weeks to come! I shall keep them talking, I promise you!” She hurried away to the refreshment room, found it crowded, with Leonie the centre of a delighted and admiring group. Fanny took a forlorn lady under her wing, and bore her off in search of a cavalier.

In the card-room they discussed the Duke’s latest whim.

“Mon Dieu, Davenant, but what a beauty! What colouring! What wonderful eyes!” cried Lavoulcre. “Who is she?”

The Chevalier d’Anvau cut in before Hugh could reply.

“Ah, he is proud of her, is Satanas! One sees it clearly.”

“He has reason,” remarked Marrignard, toying with a dice-box. “She has not only beauty, but also espieglerie! I was amongst the fortunate who obtained her hand. Conde is greatly