“Nay, monsieur,” I said with a sulk that started anew his laughter.  “I’ll not take it; I want not to see myself.  But monsieur will do well to examine his own countenance.”

“Pardieu!  I should say so,” he cried.  “I must e’en go repair myself; and you, Felix,—­Felicie,—­must be fed.”

I was in truth as hollow as a drum, yet I cried out that I had rather starve than venture into the kitchen.

“You flatter yourself,” he retorted.  “You’d not be known.  Old Jumel will give you the pick of the larder for a kiss,” he roared in my sullen face, and added, relenting:  “Well, then, I will send one of the lackeys up with a salver.  The lazy beggars have naught else to do.”

I bolted the door after him, and when the man brought my tray, bade him set it down outside.  He informed me through the panels that he would go drown himself before he would be content to lie slugabed the livelong day while his betters waited on him.  I trembled for fear in his virtuous scorn he should take his fardel away again.  But he had had his orders.  When, after listening to his footsteps descending the stairs, I reached out a cautious arm, the tray was on the floor.  The generous meat and wine put new heart into me; by the time my lord returned I was eager for the enterprise.

“Have you finished?” he demanded.  “Faith, I see you have.  Then let us start; it grows late.  The shadows, like good Mussulmans, are stretching to the east.  I must catch the ladies in their chambers before supper.  Come, we’ll take the box between us.”

“Why, monsieur, I carry that on my shoulders.”

“What, my lass, on your dainty shoulders?  Nay, ’twould make the townsfolk stare.”

I gnawed my lip in silence; he exclaimed: 

“Now, never have I seen a maid fresh from the convent blush so prettily.  I’d give my right hand to walk you out past the guard-room.”

I shrank as a snail when you touch its horns.  He cried: 

“Marry, but I will, though!”

Now I, unlike Sir Snail, had no snug little fortress to take refuge in; I might writhe, but I could not defend myself.

“As you will, monsieur,” I said, setting my teeth hard.

“Nay, I dare not.  Those fellows would follow us laughing to the doors of Lorraine House itself.  I’ve told none of this prank; I have even contrived to send all the lackeys out of doors on fools’ errands.  We’ll sneak out like thieves by the postern.  Come, tread your wariest.”

On tiptoe, with the caution of malefactors, we crept from stair to stair, giggling under our breath like the callow lad and saucy lass we looked to be.  We won in safety to the postern, and came out to face the terrible eye of the world.

XXV

A double masquerade.

“Felix, we are speaking in our own tongue.  It is such lapses as these bring men to the gallows.  Italian from this word, my girl.”