CHAPTER VI

  EPERGNES AND WAX-LIGHTS

  Dinner took place at four, with the windows darkened. At the right andleft of the host respectively were the Prince and Princess de Poix.Germain presided at the foot of the table, having on his right aCanoness and on his left a young lady to be described presently. As hisglances passed down the two rows of guests he thought he could neverhave imagined a more perfect scene of its kind. He was dazed andintoxicated.

  A soft but bright radiance was shed by a host of starry wax-lights inthe chandeliers above. An indescribable air of distinction marked everyface. Numerous servants moved about noiselessly, and the musicians ofthe chateau, placed in a recess, played upon violins and a harpsichord.The table was a fairy sight. Flowers, silver statuettes, and candelabra,were placed at intervals down the middle. Between and around these aminiature landscape, representing winter, was extended, with littlesnowy-roofed temples, an ice-bound stream, bridges, columns, trees andshrubbery, all dusted with hoar frost. The company uttered exclamationsof delight at the ingenuity of the idea.

  There was particular pleasure in eyes of the lady who sat at Lecour'sleft, the Baroness de la Roche Vernay. She was one of those startlinglybeautiful beings whom one meets only once in a lifetime. Less thaneighteen, and fragile-looking at first glance, Nature had given her anerectness and grace and a slender, unconscious symmetry which,characterising every feature, seemed to suggest the analogy of theupward growth of a flower. The purity of innocence and truth lightenedher fair brow, at the same time that enjoyment of society shone from hersparkling eyes. Her soft light hair was worn, not in the elaboratemanner of the ladies about her, but in the simplest fashion and withmerely a trace of powder. The most unusual and characteristic element inher appearance was a white, translucent complexion with touches ofcolour, and as she was also dressed in white, lightly embroidered withgold, she seemed to Lecour, in the radiant, unreal wax-light, soethereal as to have just come from heaven. So vision-like and wonderfulto him was her beauty that he gasped when she turned to him to speak.

  "Your _chef_ is a real Watteau, Monsieur--a marvel at design."

  "He doubtless dreamt what stars were to beam over his landscape,Madame," he answered, for he had at least kept grip of his wits.

  "What stars, Monsieur?"

  "My lady's eyes, n'est-ce pas?" he answered.

  The stars thus eulogised brimmed with smiles and searched his face.

  "Monsieur," said the Canoness, who was not quite so young, but verypretty, "you should have applied that compliment to _all_ of our eyes. Iam in the habit of pleading for the community, as we do in my convent."

  "None of these ladies, including yourself, Madame, have any need ofcompliments, in my humble opinion."

  "You deserve a reward, sir. Our Chapter is giving some Arcadianreceptions, and you shall be one of the shepherds. We have absoluteidylls of white sheep in our garden, though we cannot go to the length,of course, of wearing those old costumes of the nymphs andshepherdesses. How entrancing those costumes were," she added with acareless sigh.

  The Canoness was an extraordinary curiosity to him. She was _petite_ andfair. Though a _religieuse_, she wore crinoline and large paniers, and,was elegantly furbelowed. The colours of her dress were mainly white andgold, but a long light robe of black crape was thrown over hershoulders, and the jewelled cross of an order ornamented her breast.

  "Did the ancient nymphs know any better?" cried Mademoiselle deRicheval, who sat a couple of places further on. "Do you not believethat if they lived to-day they would patronise our fashions?"

  "Know any better? Do you think they were unconscious that to carry acrook is becoming to the arm? No, they were as careful of their crooksas we of our rouges. What is _your_ judgment, Monsieur de Repentigny?"

  "It is a Judgment of Paris you require," he exclaimed, "and I have notbeen there yet."

  Cyrene de la Roche Vernay touched her lovely hand quickly upon the tableand turned to him with a delighted little laugh.

  "As for me, I shall be glad if these tiresome fine clothes are ever tobe banished," she murmured, twisting her wine-glass.

  "Baroness, you have been reading the wicked Rousseau and his 'SocialContract,'" de Blair, who sat next to her, bantered.

  "It surely ought to cost something to be noble," pronounced theCanoness, in whose convent every candidate was required to provesixteen quarterings of arms, and received the title of countess.

  "Permit me to agree with the Church," laughed Mademoiselle de Richeval;"we women ought to be as elaborate as possible, so as to frighten awayall those who are not rich enough to marry."

  "I believe I could say, Miss," asserted d'Estaing, "that neverthelessyou yourself have brought to Fontainebleau at least twelve short dressesand five pairs of low-heeled shoes."

  "More than that--a straw hat and aprons," Cyrene added mischievously,casting a smile also at Germain.

  "Hold! hold!" de Blair cried. "This is certainly the revolution they sayis to come. We are returning rapidly to the State of Nature."

  "Do I hear a phrase of that man Rousseau, ladies?" the Princess calledover, nodding her head-dress. "When I was little he was presented to meat the Prince de Conti's, and had no breeding. Is that not true, Abbe?"

  "You speak with your unvarying correctness, Madame la Princesse."

  "You hear the Abbe, ladies," she said languidly, sitting back again.

  D'Estaing, to change the subject, took up the name of the Prince deConti, and turning to the Canoness and Cyrene, told a story which he hadoften heard of him.

  "Madame de Bouillon, being with the Prince, hinted that she would like aminiature of her linnet set in a ring. The Prince offered to have itmade. His offer was accepted on condition that the miniature be setplain, without jewels. Accordingly the miniature is placed in a simplerim of gold. But to cover over the painting, a large diamond, cut verythin, is set above it. Madame returned the diamond. The Prince had itground to powder, which he used to dry the ink of the note he wrote toMadame on the subject."

  "There is a Prince!" cried Mademoiselle de Richeval.

  "By the way, Montgolfier has sent up a new balloon which has carriedfour passengers," went on the volatile d'Estaing.

  "Who is this Montgolfier with his balloons?" the Princess askedlanguidly. "Is he what the new coiffure is named after?"

  D'Estaing looked around a little significantly.

  "Precisely, Madame--the coiffure Montgolfier," Germain at once replied,for he had looked into hat fashions lately.

  "Please describe it to me after dinner. All the world is speaking ofit."

  "To the devil with coiffures!" Grancey whispered to the Canoness, andstruck up a paean of praise on the lean hound Arethuse who led the huntthe previous day.

  "Yes, but I believe that dog is possessed of the devil," assertedd'Estaing. "Did you notice her eyes flash when she sprang down thehideous glen where we nearly broke our necks? The foresters once told meabout that place."

  "What about it?"

  "It is the glen of the Great Hunter. The courtiers of King Henry IV werehunting in that part of the forest one day, when they heard a tremendoushorn, saw the stag turn, and a strange pack of dogs in full chase flyafter it across their path; and with the hounds they saw a hunter,riding on a great black horse. They stopped and shouted at the intruder,and searched about for him, when a gigantic savage of a frightfulcountenance sprang above the bushes and said in a voice which frozetheir blood: 'DO YOU HEAR ME?' Since then he has been seen many times bythe foresters and others."

  "I do not like the subject," shuddered Mademoiselle de Richeval,crossing herself.

  "Pardon me," d'Estaing gravely said, bowing.

  "Tell me something about those men ascending into the clouds," spoke thesilvery voice of the young Baroness, addressing Germain.

  He gladly told her all he knew of the late ascent, at which he had beenpresent in Bordeaux; how Montgolfier and his brother made the balloon;how he stood by their enclosure and saw them fill th
e balloon withinflammable gas; how the brave four got into the car and everybodyprophesied their destruction; and of the speechless thrill with which hesaw at last the strange machine dart upwards and carry them swiftlyhigher and higher, until it was but a speck drifting across the clouds.

  The vividness of his account pleased her, and at the end she waspermitting him to drink her health, when they were interrupted by anexclamation, and saw de Grancey pointing to the table. A surprise of aningenious nature was occurring before their eyes. The artificial hoarfrost which gave such beauty to the miniature landscape was slowlymelting with the heat of the room, and during the process the guests sawthe thawing of the river, the budding of the trees, and the blossomingof the various flowers take place, as spring succeeded winter. A littlecry of delight leaped involuntarily from the lips of the sweet la RocheVernay and she smiled exquisitely on Germain, who, in that moment,wildly lost his heart.

 
W. D. Lighthall's Novels