like. But just now it came to me! He is like Jean. It is ridiculous, is it not?”
“Most ridiculous,
“No, Monseigneur, of course not. I am very discreet now, you know.”
Avon saw Conde in the distance, with the violets pinned to his coat, and smiled a little.
“I did not know it, infant, nor have I observed signs of discretion in you, but let that pass. Where, I wonder, is Fanny?”
“She is talking to M. de Penthicvre, Monseigneur. I think he likes her—oh much! Here she is! She looks very pleased, so I expect M. de Penthicvre has told her that she is just as beautiful as she was when she was nineteen.”
Avon put up his glass.
“My infant, you are becoming positively shrewd. Do you know my sister so well?”
“I am very fond of her, Monseigneur,” Leonie hastened to add.
“I do not doubt it,
“But she is so kind to me, Monseigneur. Of course, she is sometimes very s——” Leonie stopped, and peeped up at the Duke uncertainly.
“I entirely agree with you, infant. Very silly,” said his Grace imperturbably. “Well, Fanny, can we now depart?”
“That was exactly what I had a mind to ask you!” said my lady. “What a crush! Oh, my dear Justin, de Penthicvre has been saying such things to me! I vow I am all one blush! What are you smiling at? My love, what had Madame de Saint-Vire to say to you?”
“She is mad,” said Leonie, with conviction. “She looked as though she were going to cry, and I did not like it at all. Oh, here is Rupert! Rupert, where have you been?”
Rupert grinned.
“Faith, asleep, in the little salon over there. What, are we going at last? God be praised!”
“Asleep! Oh, Rupert!” Leonie cried. “It has been
“La, child, that is La Pompadour!” whispered Fanny. “Will you present her, Justin?”
“No, Fanny, I will not,” said his Grace gently.
“Here’s a haughtiness,” remarked Rupert. “For the Lord’s sake let us be gone before all these young pups crowd round Leonie again.”
“But, Justin, will it serve?” asked my lady. “She will take offence, belike.”
“I am not a French satellite,” said his Grace. “And therefore I shall not present my ward to the King’s mistress. I believe Leonie can dispense with the lady’s smiles or frowns.”
“But, Monseigneur, it would please me to——”
“Infant, you will not argue with me, I think.”
“Oh, won’t she!” said Rupert,
“No, Monseigneur. But I did want to——”
“Silence, my child.” Avon led her to the door. “Content yourself with having been presented to their Majesties. They are not, perhaps, so powerful as La Pompadour, but they are infinitely better born.”
“For heaven’s sake, Justin!” gasped my lady. “You’ll be heard!”
“Think of us!” Rupert besought him. “You’ll have the lot of us clapped up, if you’re not careful, or hounded out of the country.”
Avon turned his head.
“If I thought that there was the smallest chance of getting you clapped up, child, I would shout my remarks to the whole of this very overcrowded room,” he said.
“I think you are not at all in a nice humour, Monseigneur,” said Leonie reproachfully. “Why may I not be presented to La Pompadour?”
“Because, infant,” replied his Grace, “she is not—er—enough respectable.”
CHAPTER XXVII
And Paris began to talk, in whispers at first, then gradually louder, and more openly. Paris remembered an old, old scandal, and said that the English Duc had adopted a base-born daughter of Saint-Vire in revenge for past injuries. Paris thought that it must irk Saint-Vire considerably to see his offspring in the hands of his greatest enemy. Then Paris wondered what the English Duc meant to do with Mademoiselle de Bonnard, and found no solution to the riddle. Paris shook its head, and thought that the ways of Avon were inscrutable and probably fiendish.
Meanwhile Lady Fanny swept through the town with Leonie, and saw to it that her social activities this season should not easily be forgotten. Leonie enjoyed herself very much, and Paris enjoyed her even more. In the mornings she rode out with Avon, and two factions sprang up thereafter amongst her admirers. One faction held that the divine Leonie was seen at her best in the saddle; the other faction was firm that in the ballroom she was incomparable. One excitable young gentleman challenged another on this score, but Hugh Davenant was present, and he took both young hotheads severely to task for bandying Leonie’s name about over their cups, and the affair came to naught.
Others tried to make love to Leonie, whereat she was angry, and turned a cold shoulder on their enthusiasms. She could be dignified when she chose, and her admirers were speedily abashed. Learning of their discomfiture one evening when she was helping Leonie to dress, Lady Fanny forgot herself, and exclaimed:
“Oh, splendidly done, my love! What a duchess you will make, to be sure!”
“A duchess, madame?” Leonie said. “How could I be that?”
Lady Fanny looked at her, and then at a new bracelet that lay on the table.
“Don’t tell me you don’t know, puss!”
Leonie was trembling now.
“Madame——!”
“Oh, my dear, he’s head over ears in love with you, as all the world must know! I have watched it grow, and—my dearest life, there is no one I would sooner have for my sister than you, I do assure you!”
“Madame, you—you must be mistaken!”
“Mistaken? I? Trust me to read the signs, my love! I have known Justin many years, and never have I seen him as he is now. Silly child, why does he give you all these jewels?”
“I—I am his ward, madame.”
“Pooh!” My lady snapped her fingers. “A fig for that! Tell me why he made you his ward?”
“I—I do not know, madame. I—did not think.”
My lady kissed her again.
“You will be a duchess before the year is out, never fear!”
Leonie pushed her away.
“It’s not true! You shall not say these things!”
“Why, here’s a heat! Is there ever a man you have liked as you like ‘Monseigneur’?”
“Madame——” Leonie pressed her hands together. “I am very ignorant, but I know—I have heard what people say when such as Monseigneur wed—wed ladies of no birth. I am only a tavern-keeper’s sister. Monseigneur could not marry me. I—I had not thought of it.”
“’Tis I who am a fool to have put the idea into your head!” said Fanny remorsefully.
“Madame, I beg you will not say it to anyone.”
“Not I, child, but everyone knows that you have Avon in your toils.”
“I have not! I hate you when you talk like that!”
“Oh, my dear, we are but two women! What matter? Justin will count no cost, believe me. You may be born as low as you please, but will he care once he looks into your eyes?”
Leonie shook her head stubbornly.
“I know I am not a fool, madame. It would be a disgrace for him to marry me. One must be born.”
“Fiddle, child! If Paris accepts you without question shall not Avon too?”
“Madame, Monseigneur has no love for those who are low-born. Many, many times I have heard him say
