CHAPTER XXVII
A FALL
Irene de Stainville was quite right when she thought that sympathywould be on her side, in the grave affront which had been put uponher, and for which she had revenged herself somewhat drastically, butunder the circumstances quite naturally.
Although in this circle--known as the Queen's set--the youngMarchioness of Eglinton had always been looked up to as a leader andan especial favourite, the accusation which Irene had brought againsther was so awful, her own attitude of passive acquiescence soincomprehensible, that it was small wonder that after the departure ofTheir Majesties, when the crowd broke up into isolated groups, mostpeople there present held themselves aloof from her.
The words "a jealous woman's caprice," which at the outset had soangered the Queen, expressed fully the interpretation put upon Lydie'sconduct by those who witnessed the scene from beginning to end. ThatIrene de Stainville had inflicted on her the humiliation of a terriblepublic indictment, was reckoned only as retributive human justice.
Lydie knew well enough that the crowd which surrounded her--thoughhere usually composed of friends--was only too ready to believe evil,however crying, against a woman placed so highly in Royal and socialfavour as she herself had been for years. Already she could hear themurmur of condemnation round her, and that from people who shouldhave known that she was quite incapable of committing the basetreachery attributed to her.
Of course she had not denied it. She could not have denied it, in theface of the wording of the accusation itself.
And she felt herself hideously and morally guilty, guilty in the factsthough not in the spirit. As Irene had put it crudely and simply, shehad handed over to Gaston de Stainville in the privacy of the Park ofVersailles the secret which would deliver the Stuart prince into thehands of his enemies.
How could she begin to explain to all these people that her motive hadbeen good and pure, her orders to Gaston altogether different fromthose imputed to her by Irene? No one would have believed herexplanation unless Gaston too spoke the truth. And Gaston meant to bean infamous liar to the end.
She had been the tool of that clique, it was they now who were readyto cast her aside, to break her power and ultimately to throw her onthe heap of social refuse, where other traitors, liars and cheatsmouldered away in obscurity.
Already she knew what the end would be, already she tasted the bitterfruit of waning popularity.
Quite a crowd of obvious sympathizers gathered round the Comte andComtesse de Stainville. Gaston's avowedly base conduct was--itseems--to be condoned. At best he stood branded by his ownwife--unwittingly perhaps--as having betrayed a woman who for right orwrong, had trusted him, but it is strange to record that, in this eraof petticoat rule, the men were always more easily forgiven theirfaults than the women.
Lydie found herself almost alone, only Monsieur de Louvois came andspoke to her on an official matter, and presently Monsieur le Ducd'Aumont joined them.
"Will you let me take you back to your apartments, Lydie?" urgedMonsieur le Duc. "I fear the excitement has seriously upset you."
"You think I have been to blame, father dear?" she asked quite gently.
"Oh! . . ." he murmured vaguely.
"You did not speak up for me when that woman accused me . . ."
"My dear child," he said evasively, "you had not taken me into yourconfidence. I thought . . ."
"You still think," she insisted, "that what Madame de Stainville saidwas true?"
"Isn't it?" he asked blandly.
He did not understand this mood of hers at all. Was she trying todeny? Impossible surely! She was a clever woman, and with the map andher own letter, sealed and signed with her name, what was the good ofdenying?
"Your own letter and the map, my child," he added with gentlereproach, thinking that she feared to trust him completely.
"Ah yes! my own letter!" she murmured, "the map . . . I hadforgotten."
No! she did not mean to deny! She could not deny! . . . Her own fatherbelieved her guilty . . . and all she could have done would have beento urge the purity of her motive. Gaston had of course destroyed herorders to the command of _Le Monarque_ and there was only the map. . . and that awful, awful letter.
Monsieur le Duc thought that his daughter had been very unwise.Having trusted Gaston, and placed herself as it were in his hands, shewas foolish to anger him. No man--if he have the faintest pretensionto being called an honourable gentleman--however smitten he might bewith another woman's charms, will allow his wife to be publiclyinsulted by her rival. No doubt Lydie had been jealous of Irene, whosesomewhat indiscreet advances to milor Eglinton had aroused universalcomment. But Lydie did not even pretend to care for her own husbandand she had yielded her most treasured secret to Gaston de Stainville.There she should have remained content and not have provoked Irene'swrath, and even perhaps a revulsion of feeling in Gaston himself.
Unlike King Louis, Monsieur le Duc d'Aumont did not approve of hisdaughter's name being associated with the treacherous scheme fromwhich he was ready enough to profit financially himself, although inthe innermost depths of his heart he disapproved of it. He knew hisRoyal master well enough to be fully aware of the fact that, when thewhole nefarious transaction came to light, Louis would find means ofposing before the public as the unwilling tool of a gang ofmoney-grabbers. When that happened, every scornful finger would ofnecessity--remembering the events of this night--point at Lydie, andincidentally at her father, as the prime movers of the scheme.
It had been far better to have conciliated Irene and not to haveangered Gaston.
But women were strange creatures, and jealousy their most autocraticmaster. Even his daughter whom he had thought so exceptional, soclever and so clear-headed, was not free from the weaknesses of hersex.
"Methinks, my dear," he said kindly, "you have not acted as wisely asI should have expected. Madame de Stainville, on my honour, hath notwronged you so as to deserve a public affront, and Gaston himself onlydesired to serve you."
Monsieur le Duc must have raised his voice more than he intended, orelse perhaps there had occurred quite suddenly in the crowd ofsympathizers, that now stood in a dense group round Madame deStainville, one of those inevitable moments of complete silence whenangels are said to be fluttering round the room. Certain it is thatMonsieur le Duc's words sang out somewhat loudly, and were heard bythose whose names had been on his lips.
"Nay! I entreat you, Monsieur le Duc," came in light, banteringaccents from Gaston de Stainville, "do not chide your fair daughter.Believe me, we who have suffered most are not inclined to be severe.As to me the psychology of Madame la Marquise's mood has beenprofoundly interesting, since it hath revealed her to the astonishedgaze of her many admirers, as endowed with some of the weaknesses ofher adorable sex. Why should we complain of these charming weaknesses?For though we might be very hard hit thereby, they are but expressionsof flattery soothing to our pride."
The groups had parted somewhat as he spoke, leaving him face to facewith Lydie, towards whom he advanced with an affected gait and mincingsteps, looking at her with mocking eyes, whilst toying gracefully withthe broad black ribbon that held his eyeglass.
But Gaston's were not the only sarcastic glances that were levelled atLydie. His fatuous innuendoes were unmistakable, and bore out thebroader and more shameful accusation hurled by Irene. Lydie's ownattitude, her every action to-night, the expression of her face atthis moment seemed to prove them true. She retreated a little as headvanced, and, doing so, she raised her head with that proud tosswhich was habitual to her.
Thus her eyes travelled swiftly across the room, and she saw herhusband standing some distance away. She, too, like King Louis,wondered how much he had heard, how much he knew: and knowing all,what he meant to do. Instinctively when she caught sight of him, andthen once more saw Gaston de Stainville drawing nearer to her, sheremembered that warning which milor had given her that morning, andwhich she had thought so futile, anent the loathsome reptile that
,once touched, would pollute for ever.
"Madame," said Gaston now, as he boldly approached her, "my friendshere would tell me no doubt that, by every code of social honour, myduty is to punish you or someone who would represent you in thismatter, for the affront done to my wife. But how can I do that sincethe offender is fair as well as frail? My desire is not to punish, butrather to thank you on my knees for the delicate compliment implied byyour actions to-night. I knew that you honoured me by trusting in me,"he added with obvious significance, "but I had not hoped to provokesuch flattering jealousy in the heart of the most statuesque woman inFrance."
A titter went round the room. Gaston's attitude seemed suddenly tohave eased the tension, as of an impending tragedy, which had hungover the brilliant assembly for the last half hour. Monsieur le Comtewas such a dreadful _mauvais sujet_ but so delightful in his ways, sodelicately refined in his wickedness! He was quite right to take thematter lightly, and a murmur of approval followed the titter, at thetact with which he had lifted the load of apprehension from the mindsof the company.
Madame la Marquise d'Eglinton was something of a fool to take thematter so thoroughly _au tragique_. No doubt the affairs of the Stuartprince would right themselves presently, and she certainly should havehad more regard for her willing and obviously devoted accomplice.
He looked so superlatively elegant and handsome now, the younger womensighed whilst they admired him. He pointed his toe and held out histricorne in the manner prescribed by fashion for the making of a bow,and it was most unfortunate that he was so suddenly stopped in thevery midst of his graceful flourish by a quiet and suave voice whichcame immediately from behind him.
"I would not do that, were I in your red-heeled shoes, my goodStainville. A slip on this highly-polished floor is certain to be theresult."
But even before the gentle echo of these blandly spoken words hadpenetrated to the further ends of the room, Monsieur le Comte deStainville had measured his full length face downward on the ground.
His fall was so instantaneous that he had not the time to save himselfwith his hands, and he was literally sprawling now at Lydie's feetwith arms and legs stretched out, his face having come in violentcontact with the polished floor. Quite close to him Lord Eglinton wasstanding, laughing softly and discreetly and looking down on theprostrate and distinctly inelegant figure of the handsome cavalier.
A ripple of merry laughter followed this unexpected turn of events.One or two spectators, who had stood quite close at the very momentthat the catastrophe occurred, declared subsequently that milor hadwith a quick action of his foot thrown Monsieur de Stainville off hisbalance; the intense slipperiness of the parquet having merely donethe rest.
Be that as it may, the laughter of necessity was prudently suppressed,for already Gaston had picked himself up and there was that in hisface which warned all those present that the farce--such as itwas--would prove the prelude to real and serious tragedy.
"There now," said Lord Eglinton blandly, "did I not warn you, Monsieurle Comte? Graceful flourishes are apt to be treacherous."
"Milor. . ." said Gaston, who was livid with rage.
"Hush--sh--sh," interrupted milor in the same even and gentle voice,"not in the presence of ladies. . . . An you desire, Monsieur leComte, I'll be at your service later on."
Then he turned toward his wife, bowing low, but not in the least asGaston de Stainville would have bowed, for he had inherited from hisfather all the stiffness of manner peculiar to the Anglo-Saxon race.
Thus at this moment he looked distinctly gauche, though not withoutdignity, as, his back slightly bent, his left arm outstretched, hewaited until Lydie chose to place her hand on his sleeve.
"Your seconds, milor," shouted Gaston, who seemed quite unable tocontrol himself, and who had to be distinctly and even determinedlyheld back by two of his friends from springing then and there at LordEglinton's throat.
"They will wait on yours to-night, Monsieur le Comte," replied _lepetit Anglais_ affably. "Madame la Marquise, will you honour me?"
And Lydie took his arm and allowed him to lead her out of the room.
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