LITMIR.BIZ

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time to paint a rose! Duke, you are a delightful nobleman."

      The old peer kissed the hands, of which he made a warm and perfumed mask. Feeling them thrill, he started and asked the cause.

      "Who is that man yonder, in a Prussian officer's dress, with black eyes and expressive countenance, by Prince Guemenee?"

      "Some superior officer whom the king of Prussia sends to honor your presentation."

      "Do not laugh, duke; but that man was in France three or four years ago, and I have been seeking for him everywhere without avail."

      "You are in error, countess; the stranger is Count Fenix, who arrived but yesterday."

      "How hard he looks at me!"

      "Nay, how tenderly everybody is looking at you!"

      "Look, he is bowing to me!"

      "Everybody is doing that, if they have not done so."

      A prey to extraordinary emotion, the lady did not heed the duke's compliments, and, with her sight riveted on the stranger who captivated her attention, she quitted Richelieu, in spite of herself, to move toward the foreigner. The king was watching her and perceived the movement. He thought she wanted him, and approached her, as he had quite long enough stood aloof out of regard for the social restrictions. But the countess was so engrossed that her mind would not be diverted.

      "Sire, who is that Prussian officer, now turning away from Prince Guemenee to look this way?"

      "The stout figure with the square face enframed in a golden collar?—accredited from my cousin of Prussia—some philosopher of his stamp. I am glad that German philosophy celebrates the triumph of King Petticoat the Third, as they nickname the Louis for their devotion to the sex of which you are the brightest gem. His title is Count Fenix," added the sovereign reflecting.

      "It is he," thought Countess Dubarry, but as she kept silence the king proceeded, raising his voice:

      "Ladies, the dauphiness arrives at Compiegne to-morrow, the journey having been shortened. Her royal highness will receive at midday precisely. All the ladies presented at court will be of the reception party, except those who were absent to-day. The journey is fatiguing, and her highness can have no desire to aggravate the ills of those who are indisposed."

      He looked with severity at Choiseul, Guemenee and Richelieu. A silence of terror surrounded the speaker, whose words were fully understood as meaning disgrace.

      "Sire, I pray the exception for the Countess of Egmont, as she is the daughter of my most faithful friend, the Duke of Richelieu."

      "His Grace your friend?"

      Approaching the old courtier who had comprehended from the motion of the pleader's lips, he said:

      "I hope Lady Egmont will be well enough to-morrow to come?"

      "Certainly, sire. She would be fit for travel this hour, if your majesty desired it." And he saluted with respect and thankfulness.

      The king leaned over to the countess' ear and whispered a word.

      "Sire, I am your majesty's most obedient servant." Her reverence was accompanied by a most bewitching smile.

      The king waved his hand and retired to his own rooms.

      Scarcely had he crossed the threshold before the countess turned more frightened than ever to the singular man who had so monopolized her. Like the others, he had bowed as the monarch withdrew, but his brow had worn a haughty, almost menacing aspect. As soon as Louis had disappeared, he came and paused within a step or two of Lady Dubarry.

      Urged by invincible curiosity, she took a step toward him, so that he could say in a low voice as he bent to her:

      "Am I recognized, lady?"

      "Yes, as my prophet of Louis XV. Square."

      "Well," queried the man with the clear, steady gaze, "Did I lie when I told you of becoming the Queen of France?"

      "No; your prophecy is all but accomplished. Hence, I am ready to keep my promise. Speak your wish."

      "The place is ill chosen, and the time has not come."

      "I am ready to fulfill it any time."

      "Can I come any time?"

      "Yes; will it be as Count Fenix?"

      "My title will be Count Joseph Balsamo."

      "I shall not forget it, Balsamo," repeated the favorite as the mysterious stranger was merged with the crowd.

      Chapter XXIV.

       The Dauphiness' Reception.

       Table of Contents

      On the following day, Compiegne was intoxicated and transported. The people had not slept through the night from getting ready to welcome the bride of the prince royal.

      Latin, French, and German inscriptions adorned the evergreen arches, wound with garlands of roses and lilac.

      The royal prince had come down in the night incog, with his two brothers, and they had ridden out to meet the princess from Austria. The gallant idea had not come to the dauphin of his own impulse, but from his tutor, Lord Lavauguyon, who had been instructed by the king on the proper line of conduct to be followed by the heir to the throne. Previous sovereigns had also taken this kind of preliminary view of the fated spouse, without the veil of etiquette.

      The eldest prince rode out, grave, and his two brothers, smiling. At half after eight, they came back; the dauphin serious as when he started, Provence almost sulky, and Artois gayer than at the outset. The first was disquieted, the second envious, and the last delighted—for all had found the lady most lovely. Thus each betrayed his temperament.

      At the meeting of the two parties, that of the king and the bride of his son, all got out of the carriages, except the king and the archduchess. Around the dauphin were all the young nobles, while the old nobility clustered round the king.

      The lady's carriage door opened, and the Austrian princess sprang lightly to the ground. As she advanced toward the royal coach, Louis had the door opened, and eagerly stepped out.

      The princess had so exactly calculated the steps that she threw herself on her knees just as he alighted. He stooped to lift her up, and kissed her affectionately, covering her with a look which caused her to redden.

      She blushed again as the dauphin was presented to her. She had pleasant words to say to all the royal princes and princesses. But here came a hitch, till the king, glancing around, spied the Countess Dubarry, and took her hand.

      Everybody stepped aloof, so that the sovereign was left alone with his favorite and the new arrival.

      "I present the Countess Dubarry, my dearest friend!"

      The Austrian turned pale, but the most kindly smile glittered on her blanching lips.

      "Your majesty is very happy in having so lovely a friend," she said, "and I am not surprised at the attachment she inspires."

      All looked on with astonishment approaching stupefaction. It was evident that the new-comer was repeating the Austrian court's instructions—perhaps her mother's own words.

      While the princess entered the royal coach, passing the Duke of Choisuel without noticing him, the church bells clanged. Countess Dubarry radiantly got into her coach, up to the door of which came Chevalier Jean.

      "Do you know who that young whippersnapper is?" he asked, pointing to a horseman at the dauphiness' coach window. "That is Philip of Taverney, who gave me that sword thrust."

      "Well, who is the beautiful girl with whom he is talking?"

      "His sister, and to my mind you have the same need to beware of that girl as I of her brother."

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