De Penthièvre looked across the room to where Léonie was circling gracefully round Rupert. Their hands were held high, her foot was pointed, and she was laughing.
‘So!’ said de Penthièvre. ‘Our débutantes 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 Penthièvre has danced with her, and Condé! Where’s Justi
n?’
‘Gone into the little salon. You’re satisfied, sweet?’
‘Satisfied! Paris will talk of naught but this ball and Léonie for weeks to come! I shall keep them talking, I promise you!’ She hurried away to the refreshment room, found it crowded, with Léonie 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 Lavoulère. ‘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 espiéglerie ! I was amongst the fortunate who obtained her hand. Condé is greatly épris.’
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 Lavoulère. ‘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 Marguéry, 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 naïve innocence should make her success assured. I would my daughters had it.’
Meanwhile Lady Fanny had sent Rupert to extricate Léonie 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 Léonie escaped from the ballroom, and wandered into the hall. Condé, 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.’
Léonie smiled upon him.
‘Please, have you seen Monseigneur, m’sieur?’
‘A dozen monseigneurs, little butterfly! Which one do you want?’
‘My own Monseigneur,’ said Léonie. ‘The Duc of Avon, of course.’
‘Oh, he is in the farthest salon, mademoiselle, but shall not I do as well?’