‘I am going to Versailles. I feel that it is time I again paid homage to King Louis. I suppose it is useless to ask your company?’
‘Quite, I thank you. I’ve no love for Versailles. Is Léon to go with you?’
‘I have really not given the matter a thought. It seems probable. Unless you wish to take him to Lourdonne’s?’
Hugh left the room without a word.
Five
His Grace of Avon Visits Versailles
The Duke’s light town coach, with its four grey horses, stood at the door of his house shortly before six on the following evening. The horses champed at their bits and tossed their beautiful heads in impatience, and the paved courtyard rang with the sound of their stamping. The postilions, liveried in black and gold, stood to their heads, for the Duke’s horses were not chosen for their docility.
In the hall Léon awaited his master, aglow with excitement. His Grace had issued certain orders earlier in the day; in accordance with them the page was dressed in black velvet, with real lace at his throat and wrists. He carried his tricorne beneath his arm, and in his other hand he held his master’s beribboned cane.
Avon came slowly down the stairs, and seeing him Léon drew in a quick breath of wonderment. The Duke was always magnificent, but to-night he had surpassed himself. His coat was made of cloth-of-gold, and on it the blue ribbon of the Garter lay, and three orders blazed in the light of the candles. Diamonds nestled in the lace of his cravat, and formed a solid bar above the riband that tied back his powdered hair. His shoes had jewelled heels and buckles, and below his knee he wore the Garter. Over his arm he carried a long black cloak, lined with gold, which he handed to Léon; and in his hand was his snuff-box, and scented handkerchief. He looked his page over in silence, and frowned at last, and turned to his valet.
‘You may perhaps call to mind, my good Gaston, a golden chain studded with sapphires, presented to me by I forget whom. Also a sapphire clasp in the shape of a circle.’
‘Y-yes, Monseigneur?’
‘Fetch them.’
Gaston hurried away, presently to reappear with the required ornaments. Avon took the heavy sapphire chain and threw it over Léon’s head so that it lay across his breast, glowing with an inward fire, yet no brighter or more liquid than the boy’s eyes.
‘Monseigneur!’ gasped Léon. He put up his hand to feel the precious chain.
‘Give me your hat. The clasp, Gaston.’ Unhurriedly he fixed the diamond and sapphire circle on the upturned brim of the page’s hat. Then he gave it to Léon, and stepped back to observe the effect of his handiwork. ‘Yes, I wonder why I never thought of sapphires before? T
he door, my infant.’
Still dazed by his master’s unexpected action, Léon flew to open the door for him. Avon passed out, and climbed into the waiting coach. Léon looked up at him inquiringly, wondering whether he was to mount the box or enter with his master.
‘Yes, you may come with me,’ said Avon, answering the unspoken question. ‘Tell them to let go the horses.’
Léon delivered the order, and sprang hurriedly into the coach, for he knew the ways of Avon’s horses. The postilions mounted quickly, and in a trice the fretting horses leaped forward in their collars, and the coach swerved round towards the wrought-iron gates. Out they swept, and down the narrow street as swiftly as was possible. But the very narrowness of the street, the slippery cobblestones, and the many twists and turns, made their progress necessarily slow, so that it was not until they came out on the road to Versailles that the speed and power of the horses could be demonstrated. Then they seemed to spring forward as one, and the coach bowled along at a furious pace, lurching a little over the worst bumps in the road, but so well sprung that for the most part the surface of the road might have been of glass for all the jolting or inconvenience that the occupants felt.
It was some time before Léon could find words to thank the Duke for his chain. He sat on the edge of the seat beside the Duke, fingering the polished stones in awe, and trying to squint down at his breast to see how the chain looked. At length he drew a deep breath and turned to gaze at his master, who lay back against the velvet cushions idly surveying the flying landscape.
‘Monseigneur – this is – too precious for – me to wear,’ he said in a hushed voice.
‘Do you think so?’ Avon regarded his page with an amused smile.
‘I – I would rather not wear it, Monseigneur. Suppose – suppose I were to lose it?’
‘I should then be compelled to buy you another. You may lose it an you will. It is yours.’
‘Mine?’ Léon twisted his fingers together. ‘Mine, Monseigneur? You cannot mean that! I – I have done nothing – I could do nothing to deserve such a present.’
‘I suppose it had not occurred to you that I pay you no wage? Somewhere in the Bible – I don’t know where – it says that the labourer is worthy of his hire. A manifestly false observation for the most part, of course, but I choose to give you that chain as – er – hire.’
Léon pulled his hat off at that, and slipped the chain over his head, almost throwing it at the Duke. His eyes burned dark in a very pale face.
‘I do not want payment! I would work myself to death for you, but payment – no ! A thousand times no! You make me angry!’
‘Evidently,’ murmured his Grace. He picked up the chain, and began to play with it. ‘Now I had imagined you would be pleased.’
Léon brushed his hand across his eyes. His voice shook a little as he answered.