“Ay——” Rupert shook his head at her. “I’d give something to know what you’ve been at this night, rogue! Did old Richelieu make love to you?”

“Oh no!” Léonie was surprised. “Why, he is quite an old man!”

“Alas, poor Armand!” said his Grace. “Don’t tell him so, infant, I implore you.”

“Nor anyone, my love,” said her ladyship. “It would fly round Paris! He would be so chagrined!”

“Well, who did make love to you?” asked Rupert. “Besides Condé.”

“He didn’t, Rupert! No one did.” Léonie looked round innocently. “He only said I was a Fairy Princess. Yes, and he said that about my eyes.”

“If that’s not making——” Rupert encountered a glance from his brother, and broke off. “Oh, ay! I’m dumb, never fear!”

“Monseigneur,” Léonie said. “I kept thinking it was a dream! If they knew I had been a page I do not think they would have been so kind to me. They would have thought I was not enough respectable!”

CHAPTER XXVI

The Presentation of Léonie

After the ball invitations came swiftly to the Hôtel Avon. More than one lady begged that Miladi Fanny would forgive the shortness of the notice and honour her on such-and-such a night, at ball, or rout, or card-party. Fanny went carefully through the pile of little cards, and was triumphant.

“My dearest Justin!” she cried. “We shall not be above three nights at home, I give you my word! Here is a card from Madame du Deffand, for next month—a soirée. This is from the Comtesse de Meuilly—a ball. And here we have one from my dear Madame de Follemartin, for Saturday! And this one——”

“Spare us, Fanny!” said his Grace. “Accept and decline as you will, but let us have no lists. Infant, what have you there?”

Léonie had come dancing in with a bouquet in her hand, to which a card was attached.

“Monseigneur, are they not pretty? They come from the Prince de Condé. I think he is very kind to me!”

Fanny looked at her brother.

“So we begin,” she said. “Where are we like to end, I wonder?”

“I shall end in a debtor’s prison, never fear!” said Rupert, from the depths of an arm-chair. “Two hundred cool guineas last night, and——”

“Rupert, it’s wanton!” exclaimed Marling. “Why do you play so high?”

Rupert deigned no reply, deeming the question beneath contempt. It was Davenant who filled the breach.

“I believe it’s in the family,” he said. “Rupert, of course, is a scamp.”

“Oh no!” said Léonie. “He is very silly, but he is not a scamp! Monseigneur, tell me what I am to wear at Versailles to-morrow! Madame says blue, but I want to wear my white dress again.”

“No, infant. To wear the same frock twice running would create almost a scandal. You shall wear gold, and dull yellow, and the sapphires I once gave you. And your hair shall be unpowdered.”

“Oh?” said my lady. “Why, Justin?”

Hugh walked to the fireplace.

“Is it, Justin, because Titian hair has always been one of your ruling passions?”

“Exactly,” bowed his Grace. “What an excellent memory you have, my dear!”

“I don’t understand,” complained Fanny. “What do you mean?”

“I am not quite sure,” said Avon. “I suggest you ask Hugh. He is omniscient.”

“Now you are being disagreeable!” Fanny pouted. “Dull yellow—ay, ’twill do. Léonie, my love, we must order a petticoat of gold net from Cerise; they are quite the rage now, I hear.” She became absorbed in modes and fashions.

She and Avon and Rupert accompanied Léonie to Versailles. Marling and Davenant were alike in their distaste for courts, and they refused to join the party, preferring to spend a quiet evening playing at piquet, and perusing the latest copy of the Adventurer, which had come that day from London.

So Léonie and her escort left them to their devices, and sped away in the light coach to Versailles. The drive provoked in Léonie a reminiscent mood. She sat beside Lady Fanny, whose skirts billowed about her, and addressed herself to the Duke, opposite.

“Monseigneur, do you remember that when we went to Versailles before you gave me this chain?” She touched the sapphires that lay across her white breast.

“I do, infant. I also remember that on our return you went to sleep, and would not wake up.”

“Yes, that is true,” she nodded. “It seems very strange to be going to court again, like this!” She indicated her petticoats, and spread out her fan. “M. le Prince was at Madame de Cacheron’s party last night, Monseigneur.”

“So I have heard,” said Avon, who had not been present.

“And danced twice with the chit!” said my lady. “’Twas positively unseemly!”

“Ay, so it was,” agreed Rupert. “If you were to ask me I should say he came to see Léonie and none other.”

“Yes, he did,” said Léonie ingenuously. “He told me so. I like him.”

Rupert looked at her severely.

“Well, you ought not to sit with him talking of God knows what,” he said magisterially. “When I wanted to lead you out you were nowhere to be found.”

Léonie pulled a face at him.

“You are talking like that because you have all your best clothes on,” she told him. “They make you feel grand, and very important. I know!”

Rupert burst out laughing.

“Faith, that’s good! But I’ll not deny this is a devilish fine coat.” He regarded his rich claret-coloured sleeve with some affection.

“It is not so—so distingué as Monseigneur’s grey and pink,” said Léonie. “Monseigneur, whom shall I see to-night?”

“Why, child, I thought you had a dozen assignations made!” remarked her ladyship.

“Yes, madame, but I meant new people.”

“Oh, she’s insatiable!” murmured Rupert. “She’ll boast a wonderful collection of hearts before the month’s out, mark my words!”

“You will see the King, infant, and the Queen, and possibly the Dauphin,” said his Grace.

“And Madame de Pompadour. I want to see her, because I have heard that she is very beautiful.”

“Very,” said his Grace. “You will also see her favourite, de Stainville, and Monsieur, and the Comte d’Eu.”

“Tiens!” said Léonie.

When they had come to Versailles she went presently up the marble stairway, in Lady Fanny’s wake, to the Galerie des Glaces, and, looking about her, drew a deep breath.

“How I remember!” she said.

“For goodness’ sake, child, never say so!” begged Fanny. “You have never been here before. Let me hear no more of your recollections!”

“No, madame,” said Léonie abashed. “Oh, there is M. de La Valaye!”

La Valaye came to talk to them, and stole a curious glance at Léonie’s unpowdered head. Rupert slipped away into the crowd, in search of a kindred spirit, and was seen no more for some time.

Many people were turning to look at Léonie.

“Dis donc,” said de Stainville, “who is this beautiful little red-head? I do not recognize her.”

His friend, de Sally, took snuff.

“Have you not heard?” he asked. “That is the very latest beauty! She’s Avon’s ward.”

“Oho! Yes, one has heard,” nodded de Stainville. “It is Condé’s new toy, hein?”

“No, no, my friend!” De Sally shook his head vehemently. “Condé’s new goddess!”

Léonie was curtsying to the Duchesse de la Roque; de Stainville saw my lady Fanny.

“So Alastair has brought his so charming sister! Madame, votre serviteur!”

Fanny turned.

“La, so ’tis you, m’sieur.” She held out her hand. “I declare ’tis an age since I have seen you!”

“Madame, the years fly back when I look upon you,” de Stainville said, kissing her hand. “But surely it was Etienne once, and not that cold M’sieur?”

My lady hid behind her fan.

“I vow I have no recollection of it!” she said. “No doubt I was very foolish—so long ago!”

De Stainville drew her apart, and they fell to talking of bygone days. Perceiving that his sister was fully occupied, Avon rescued Léonie from her growing circle of admirers, and bore her off to curtsy to the Comte d’Eu, who was passing down the gallery. Soon Fanny left de Stainville, and came to Avon’s side. The Comte bowed to her.

“Madame, I may compliment you upon your charge?” He waved one jewelled hand towards Léonie, who was speaking to a shy debutante who had been present at her ball.

Fanny nodded.

“She pleases you, m’sieur?”

“It could not be otherwise, madame. She is éclatante! That hair, and those eyes! I prophesy a succčs enorme!” He bowed, and moved away on the arm of a friend.

Léonie came back to Avon.

“Monseigneur, I think very young men are silly,” she said flatly.

“Undoubtedly, infant. Who has had the misfortune to incur your disapproval?”

“It was M. de Tanqueville, Monseigneur. He says I am cruel. And I am not, am I?”

“Of course you are, child!” said my lady. “All young ladies must be cruel. It is de rigueur!”

“Ah, bah!” said Léonie. “Monseigneur, where is the King?”

“By the fire, infant. Fanny, take her to the King.”

My lady furled her fan.

“You arranged, Justin?”

“Certainly, my dear. You are expected.”

So Fanny led Léonie down the room, and curtsied low to Majesty, who was pleased to be gracious. Behind Majesty, with Monsieur, and one or two others, Condé stood. Léonie encountered his gaze, and dimpled mischievously. Majesty was pleased to compliment my Lady Fanny on Mademoiselle de Bonnard; the Queen murmured praise of such beauty, and my lady passed on to make way for the next presentation.

“Bon!” said Léonie. “Now I have spoken to the King.” She turned to Avon, and the twinkle was in her eyes. “Monseigneur, it is as I said! He is just like the coins.”