De Morlay and Styvens approved the choice.
The great hall had been invaded by a score of servants who arranged
the chairs, placed the palms, and hung silver chains to separate the
musicians from the audience. The curtain of the little stage was
lowered, but a murmur could be heard through the pretty drop painted
by Maurice. Among the servants set to finish the costumes was the
Duke's sly goddaughter. Every time the Duke passed she gazed at him
and her lips trembled. She who was usually so pert and smiling worked
with set lips.
"Ha, ha!" said one of the maids, "you must be in love, eh, Jeanette?"
"Let me alone, stupid, to do my work," said the young girl with tears
in her eyes.
She had been waked the night before by the noise of opening doors, she
had got up and seen her godfather talking to her father. The Duke
said, "You must close your Inn early as possible, you must refuse
everybody, except the Doctor from the Chateau, Count Styvens and four
gentlemen with the Duke of Castel-Montjoie. I shall probably get here
first."
"Ah! my God," the Innkeeper had murmured, "the Duke is going to fight,
I know that.... If only nothing happens to you, sir."
"I need not say that I count on your discretion as on your devotion.
Have your best bedroom ready to receive one or the other of the
adversaries and put yourself at the absolute command of the Duke de
Castel-Montjoie. _Au revoir_. Try not to let your daughter know
anything about this, and say nothing to her; but I know that even if
she discovered she would not give us away.
Pages:
221
222
223
224
225
226
227
228
229
230
231
232
233
234
235
236
237
238
239
240
241
242
243
244
245