y lady. ‘I must go change my gown, and order the light chaise to take me to Julie.’
‘I will bear my infant company at dinner,’ said Avon. ‘And then she shall go to bed. Rupert?’
‘No, I’m off at once,’ said Rupert. ‘I’ve a little matter to talk over with d’Anvau. Come, Fan!’
They went out together. Avon crossed over to the couch where Léonie sat, and tweaked one of her curls.
‘Child, you are strangely silent.’
‘I was thinking,’ she said gravely.
‘Of what, ma mie ?’
‘Oh, I shall not tell you that, Monseigneur!’ she said, and smiled. ‘Let us – let us play at piquet until it is time for dinner!’
So they played at piquet, and presently Lady Fanny came in to say good night, and was gone again in a minute, having adjured Léonie to be sure and retire to bed immediately after dinner. She kissed Léonie, and was surprised to receive a quick hug from her. Rupert went away with Fanny, and Léonie was left alone with the Duke.
‘They are gone,’ she said in a curious voice.
‘Yes, child. What of it?’ His Grace dealt the cards with an expert hand.
‘Nothing, Monseigneur. I am stupid to-night.’
They played on until dinner was served, and then went into the big dining-room, and sat down together at the table. Avon soon sent the lackeys away, whereat Léonie gave a sigh of relief.
‘That is nice,’ she remarked. ‘I like to be alone again. I wonder whether Rupert will lose much money to-night?’
‘We will hope not, infant. You will know by his expression to-morrow.’
She did not reply, but began to eat a sweetmeat, and did not look at his Grace.
‘You eat too many sweetmeats, ma fille,’ he said. ‘It’s no wonder you are growing pale.’
‘You see, Monseigneur, I had never eaten any until you bought me from Jean,’ she explained.
‘I know, child.’
‘So now I eat too many,’ she added. ‘Monseigneur, I am very glad that we are alone together to-night, like this.’
‘You flatter me,’ he bowed.
‘No. Since we came back to Paris we have hardly ever been alone, and I have wanted – oh, many times! – to thank you for being so very kind to me.’
He frowned down at the walnut he was cracking.
‘I pleased myself, infant. I believe I told you once before that I am no hero.’
‘Did it please you to make me your ward?’ she asked.
‘Evidently, ma fille, else I had not done so.’
‘I have been very happy, Monseigneur.’
‘If that is so it is very well,’ he said.
She rose, and put down her napkin.
‘I am growing more and more tired,’ she said. ‘I hope Rupert wins to-night. And you.’