These Old Shades

epris.”

The Chevalier looked at Hugh.

“She is like someone. I cannot think who it may be. I have racked my brains, but it eludes me.”

“Yes, it is true,” nodded Lavoulcre. “When I set eyes on her it came to me in a flash that I had met her before. Is it possible that I have done so, Davenant?”

“Quite impossible,” Hugh said fervently. “She has but just come from England.”

Madame de Marguery, playing at lansquenet at an adjacent table, looked up.

“But she is French, surely? Who were her parents?”

“I do not know, madame,” said Hugh with truth. “As you know, Justin is never communicative.”

“Oh!” Madame cried. “He loves to make a mystery! It is to intrigue us all! The child is quite charming, and well-born, of course. That nadve innocence should make her success assured. I would my daughters had it.”

Meanwhile Lady Fanny had sent Rupert to extricate Leonie from the refreshment room. She came back on my lord’s arm, and chuckled gleefully.

“Madame, M. le Prince says I have eyes like stars, and another man said that a shaft from my eyes had slain him, and——”

“Fie, child!” said my lady. “Never tell me all that here! I am going to present you to Madame de la Roque. Come!”

But at midnight Leonie escaped from the ballroom, and wandered into the hall. Conde, coming from one of the other salons, met her there.

“The little butterfly! I went to look for you, mademoiselle, and could not find you.”

Leonie smiled upon him.

“Please, have you seen Monseigneur, m’sieur?”

“A dozen monseigneurs, little butterfly! Which one do you want?”

“My own Monseigneur,” said Leonie . “The Duc of Avon, of course.”

“Oh, he is in the farthest salon, mademoiselle, but shall not I do as well?”

She shook her head.

“But no, m’sieur. I want him.”

Conde took her hand, and smiled down at her.

“You are unkind, Fairy Princess! I thought you liked me just a little?”

“Yes, I do. I like you very much,” Leonie assured him. “But now I want Monseigneur.”

“Then I’ll fetch him for you at once,” Conde said gallantly.

“But no! I will go to him, m’sieur. You take me!”

Conde presented his arm promptly.

“Now you are a little kinder, mademoiselle! Is this monseigneur going to bring you to Versailles, I wonder?”

“Yes, I think so. Will you be there? Please do, m’sieur!”

“Of a certainty I shall be there. Then, at Madame de Longchamps’ rout I shall meet you, surely?”

“I do not know,” she said. “I think I am going to a great many routs, but Monseigneur has not told me which ones yet. Oh, there he is!” She released Conde’s arm, and ran forward to where his Grace was standing. “Monseigneur, I have been looking for you. The Prince brought me. Thank you very much, m’sieur!” She held out a friendly hand. “Now you will go and dance with—with—oh, with somebody! I do not know the names!”

Conde kissed the small hand.

“You will bring her to court, Duc?”

“To the levee next week,” said his Grace.

“Then I am satisfied,” Conde said, bowed, and left them.

The Duke looked down at his ward in some amusement.

“You dismiss Royalty very summarily, Babe.”

“Oh, Monseigneur, he is quite young, and very like Rupert! He did not mind, do you think?”

“He did not appear to mind,” said the Duke. “What do you want with me, infant?”

“Nothing, Monseigneur. But I thought I would come to find you.”

“You are tired, infant.” He led her to a couch. “You shall sit quietly with me awhile.”

“Yes, please, Monseigneur. It is a very nice dance, I think. I have danced with a great many grand people, and they were all very kind to me indeed.”

“I am glad to hear it, child,” he said gravely. “How does your Prince please you?”

“Oh, he is fort amusant! He told me ever so many things about court, Monseigneur, and he explained who the people were—oh no! it was M. de Brionne who did that. I said ‘Bah’ to the Prince, I am afraid, but he liked it, and he laughed. And I danced with Rupert—and oh, Monseigneur, with M. d’Anvau! He said he was sure he had met me before!” Her eyes danced. “I wanted to say, ‘But yes, m’sieur. I brought you wine at Vassaud’s one night!’”

“I sincerely trust you did not, infant?”

“Oh no, I was very discreet, Monseigneur. I said ‘Tiens! Me, I do not think I have met m’sieur before.’ It was not at all true, was it?”

“Never mind, child, it was a very proper reply. And now I am going to present you to a very old friend of mine who desires speech with you. Come, infant!”

“Qui est-ce?” she asked.

He walked slowly with her through the salons to the hall.

“It is M. de Richelieu, my child. You will be very polite to him.”

“Yes, Monseigneur,” she said docilely, and nodded her head to a young exquisite who was smiling at her and trying to catch her eye. “I have been very polite to everyone to-night. Except Rupert, of course.”

“That goes without saying,” said his Grace, and took her back into the ballroom.

A middle-aged exquisite was standing by the fire at one end, holding animated converse with a plump lady of some beauty. Avon waited until others had gathered about this lady, and then he went forward.

Richelieu saw him, and came to meet him.

“Ah, Justin, the promised introduction! Your beautiful ward!”

Leonie took her hand from Avon’s arm, and curtsied. Richelieu bowed to her, and took her hand, and patted it.

“Child, I envy Justin. Justin, go away! I shall look after mademoiselle very well without you.”

“I don’t doubt it,” said his Grace, and went away to find Lady Fanny.

Armand de Saint-Vire pounced on him as he crossed the hall.

“My friend, who is that girl?” he demanded. “I craved an introduction. Miladi Fanny was good enough to present me. I talked with the sprite—mon Dieu, qu’elle est jolie!—and all the time I asked myself: Who is she? who is she?”

“And did you obtain an answer from yourself?” inquired his Grace.

“No, Justin, I did not! Therefore I ask you: Who is she?”

“She is my ward, dear Armand,” smiled his Grace, and passed on as Mademoiselle de la Vogue came up.

Fanny was in the refreshment room, with Davenant. She waved to Justin as he entered.

“I have earned a moment’s repose!” she said gaily. “Lud, Justin, I’ve presented a score of children to each other and never caught one of their names! Where’s Leonie?”

“With Richelieu,” he said. “No, Fanny, you need not be alarmed. He is under oath to be discreet. Hugh, you have been a godsend to me this night.”

My lady began to fan herself.

“We have all of us worked a little,” she said. “My poor Edward is with the dowagers, playing at ombre, and Rupert has scarce been inside the card-room.”

“You have worked the hardest of us all,” said Hugh.

“Oh, but I have enjoyed myself so prodigiously!” she said. “Justin, I don’t know how many young beaux have not been making love to Leonie! Conde is ravished, he tells me. Do I not make a famous chaperon? When I present Leonie I feel fifty—yes, Hugh, positively I do!—but when I meet Raoul de Fontanges again—ah, then I am back in my teens!” She cast up her eyes.