Her face more than carried out the promise given by her chin and mouth.
It expressed to the eye all that the voice expressed to the ear.
She had not seen me yet. I had almost made up my mind to go boldly over to her, when the Duke of Guise and his gentlemen entered the gallery. At the same instant, Catherine reappeared on the arm of the Duke of Anjou. The latter resigned her to the Duke of Guise, and went back to his apartment, whereupon Catherine and Guise started for the further end of the gallery, as if for private conversation. His manner was courteous, but cold; hers calm and amiable.
"Ah, see!" whispered De Rilly to me. "What did I tell you?"
Catherine had cast a glance towards Guise's gentlemen. De Noyard, grave and reserved, stood a little apart from the others. For an instant, a look of profound displeasure, a deeply sinister look, interrupted the composure of Catherine's features.
"You see that M. de Noyard does not have the effect on the Queen-mother that a rose in her path would have," remarked De Rilly.
He did not notice what followed. But I observed it, although not till long afterward did I see its significance. It was a mere exchange of glances, and little did I read in it the secret which was destined to have so vast an effect on my own life, to give my whole career its course. It was no more than this: Catherine turned her glance, quickly, from De Noyard to Mlle. d'Arency, who had already been observing her. Mlle. d'Arency gave, in reply, an almost imperceptible smile of understanding; then Catherine and Guise passed on.
Two looks, enduring not a moment; yet, had I known what was behind them, my life would assuredly have run an entirely different course.
The gentlemen of the Duke of Guise now joined Catherine's ladies at the fireplace. For a time, Mlle. d'Arency was thus lost to my sight; then the group opened, and I saw her resting her great eyes, smilingly, on the face of De Noyard, who was talking to her in a low tone, his gaze fixed upon her with an expression of wistful adoration.
"The devil!" I muttered. "That man loves her."
"My faith!" said De Rilly, "one would think he was treading on your toes in doing so; yet you do not even know her."
"She is the woman I have chosen to be in love with, nevertheless," I said.
It seemed as if the Duke of Guise had come to the Louvre solely for a word with the Queen-mother, for now he took his departure, followed by his suite, while Catherine went to her own apartments. As De Noyard passed out, he saw me. His face showed that he recognized me, and that he wondered what I was doing in the palace. There was nothing of offence in his look, only a slight curiosity.
De Rilly now expressed an intention of going out to take the air, but I preferred to stay where I was; for Mlle. d'Arency had remained in the gallery, with some other of Catherine's ladies. So the loquacious equerry went without me.
I formed a bold resolution. Quelling the trepidation that came with it, I strode quickly over to Mlle. d'Arency, who still stood against the tapestry as if she had been a figure in it but had come to life and stepped out into the apartment.
Her large eyes fell on me, and opened slightly wider, showing at once recognition and a not unpleasant surprise. I bowed very low, partly to conceal the flush that I felt mounting to my face.
"Pardon me, Mlle. d'Arency," I said, in a voice as steady as I could make it. Then I looked at her and saw her features assuming an expression of such coldness and astonishment that for some time neither my tongue nor my mind could continue the speech, nor could I move a step in retreat. All the while she kept her eyes upon me.
I drew a deep breath at last, and said in desperation:
"Doubtless I ought not to address you, being unknown to you, but if you will permit me, I will go and bring M. de Rilly, who will present me."
Her face softened somewhat, and she looked amused. "You seem quite able to present yourself," she said.
I was immensely relieved at this melting of the ice, just when I was beginning to feel that I was becoming a spectacle.
"I am Ernanton de Launay, Sieur de la Tournoire," I said, and to fill up the embarrassing pause that followed, I added, "and, being a Huguenot, I am a nobody in Paris—in fact, a mere volunteer in the French Guards."
"Well, Monsieur Guardsman, what do you wish to say to me?"
She was now in quite a pleasant, quizzical mood.
"I trust you do not expect me to say it in one word," I answered; and then I lowered my voice, "or in a single interview."
"It does not matter how many interviews it requires, if it is interesting," she answered nonchalantly.
"Alas!" I said. "I fear it is a story which many others have told you."
"An old story may seem new, when it comes from new lips."
"And when it is new to the lips that tell it, as mine is. Actually, I have never before made a confession of love."
"Am I to understand that you are about to make one now?"
"Have I not already made it?" I said.
We now stood quite apart from all others in the gallery, unnoticed by them; and our voices had fallen almost to a whisper.
She smiled, as if refusing to take my words seriously.
"If you have waited so long before making any confession of love whatever," she said, "you have certainly made up for the delay by the speed which you use in making your first."
"On the contrary, I have had my confession ready for a long time, as my love has existed for a long time. I waited only to meet its object—the woman of whom I had formed the ideal in my mind."
She looked as if about to burst into a laugh; but she changed her mind, and regarded me with a look of inquiry, as if she would read my heart. The smile was still on her lips, yet she spoke gravely when she said:
"Monsieur, I cannot make you out. If you are as sincere as you are original—but I must go to the Queen-mother now. To-morrow afternoon, I shall walk in the gardens of the Tuileries, if the weather is clear."
"But one moment, I beg! M. de Noyard—he is in love with you, is he not?"
Her face again took on its mocking look. "I have not asked him," she said lightly. Then she regarded me with a new and peculiar expression, as if some daring idea had come into her mind, some project which had to be meditated upon before it might be safely breathed.
"You look at me strangely, mademoiselle."
"Oh, I merely wonder at your curiosity in regard to M. de Noyard."
"My curiosity is not in regard to his feelings, but in regard to yours."
"Monsieur," she said, with a very captivating air of reproach, "have I not told you that I shall walk in the gardens of the Tuileries to-morrow afternoon?"
And she glided away, leaving behind her the most delighted and conceited young man, at that moment, in France.
CHAPTER III.
THE STRANGE REQUEST OF MLLE. D'ARENCY
I was disappointed in the interview that I had with Mlle. d'Arency in the gardens of the Tuileries, the next day. I saw her for only a few minutes, and then within sight of other of Catherine's ladies. Although I lost nothing of the ground I had taken, neither did I gain anything further. Afterward, at court receptions and fêtes, and, sometimes, in the palace galleries, when she was off duty, I contrived to meet her. She neither gave me opportunities nor avoided me. All the progress that I made was in the measure of my infatuation for her. When I begged for a meeting at which we might not be