No one was marking me, and I wondered if I might not slip out unseen and make my way to mademoiselle’s chamber.  I knew she lodged on this story, near the back of the house, in a room overlooking the little street and having a turret-window.  But I was somewhat doubtful of my skill to find it through the winding corridors of a great palace.  I was more than likely to meet some one who would question my purpose, and what answer could I make?  I scarce dared say I was seeking mademoiselle.  I am not ready at explanations, like M. le Comte.

Yet here were the golden moments flying and our cause no further advanced.  Should I leave it all to M. Etienne, trusting that when he had made his sales here he would be permitted to seek out the other ladies of the house?  Or should I strive to aid him?  Could I win in safety to mademoiselle’s chamber, what a feat!

It so irked me to be doing nothing that I was on the very point of gingerly disappearing when one of the ladies, she with the yellow curls, the prettiest of them all, turned suddenly from the group, calling clearly: 

“Lorance!”

Our hearts stood still—­mine did, and I can vouch for his—­as the heavy window-curtain swayed aside and she came forth.

She came listlessly.  Her hair sweeping against her cheek was ebony on snow, so white she was; while under her blue eyes were dark rings, like the smears of an inky finger.  M. Etienne let fall the bracelet he was holding, staring at her oblivious of aught else, his brows knotted in distress, his face afire with love and sympathy.  He made a step forward; I thought him about to catch her in his arms, when he recollected himself and dropped on his knees to grope for the fallen trinket.

“You wanted me, madame?” she asked Mme. de Mayenne.

“No,” said the duchess, with a tartness of voice she seemed to reserve for Mlle. de Montluc; “’twas Mme. de Montpensier.”

“It was I,” the fair-haired beauty answered in the same breath.  “I want you to stop moping over there in the corner.  Come look at these baubles and see if they cannot bring a sparkle to your eye.  Fie, Lorance!  The having too many lovers is nothing to cry about.  It is an affliction many and many a lady would give her ears to undergo.”

“Take heart o’ grace, Lorance!” cried Mlle. de Tavanne.  “If you go on looking as you look to-day, you’ll not long be troubled by lovers.”

She made no answer to either, but stood there passively till it might be their pleasure to have done with her, with a patient weariness that it wrung the heart to see.

“Here’s a chain would become you vastly, Lorance,” Mme. de Montpensier went on, friendlily enough, in her brisk and careless voice.  “Let me try it on your neck.  You can easily coax Paul or some one to buy it for you.”