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graceful mazes of the minuet. She noted--with that acute sense of

hers--that she had succeeded in completely allaying Sir Andrew's



fears. Her self-control had been absolutely perfect--she was a finer

actress at this moment, and throughout the whole of this minuet, than



she had ever been upon the boards of the Comedie Francaise; but then,

a beloved brother's life had not depended upon her histrionic powers.



She was too clever to overdo her part, and made no further

allusions to the supposed BILLET DOUX, which had caused Sir Andrew



Ffoulkes such an agonising five minutes. She watched his anxiety

melting away under her sunny smile, and soon perceived that, whatever



doubt may have crossed his mind at the moment, she had, by the time

the last bars of the minuet had been played, succeeded in completely



dispelling it; he never realised in what a fever of excitement" target="_blank" title="n.兴奋;骚动;煽动">excitement she

was, what effort it cost her to keep up a constantripple of BANAL



conversation.

When the minuet was over, she asked Sir Andrew to take her



into the next room.

"I have promised to go down to supper with His Royal



Highness," she said, "but before we part, tell me. . .am I forgiven?"

"Forgiven?"



"Yes! Confess, I gave you a fright just now. . . . But

remember, I am not an English woman, and I do not look upon the



exchanging of BILLET DOUX as a crime, and I vow I'll not tell my

little Suzanne. But now, tell me, shall I welcome you at my



water-party on Wednesday?"

"I am not sure, Lady Blakeney," he replied evasively. "I may



have to leave London to-morrow."

"I would not do that, if I were you," she said earnestly; then



seeing the anxious look reappearing in his eyes, she added gaily; "No

one can throw a ball better than you can, Sir Andrew, we should so



miss you on the bowling-green."

He had led her across the room, to one beyond, where already



His Royal Highness was waiting for the beautiful Lady Blakeney.

"Madame, supper awaits us," said the Prince, offering his arm



to Marguerite, "and I am full of hope. The goddess Fortune has

frowned so persistently on me at hazard, that I look with confidence



for the smiles of the goddess of Beauty."

"Your Highness has been unfortunate at the card tables?" asked



Marguerite, as she took the Prince's arm.

"Aye! most unfortunate. Blakeney, not content with being the



richest among my father's subjects, has also the most outrageous luck.

By the way, where is that inimitable wit? I vow, Madam, that this



life would be but a dreary desert without your smiles and his

sallies."



CHAPTER XIV ONE O'CLOCK PRECISELY!

Supper had been extremely gay. All those present declared



that never had Lady Blakeney been more adorable, nor that "demmed

idiot" Sir Percy more amusing.



His Royal Highness had laughed until the tears streamed down

his cheeks at Blakeney's foolish yet funny repartees. His doggerel



verse, "We seek him here, we seek him there," etc., was sung to the

tune of "Ho! Merry Britons!" and to the accompaniment of glasses



knocked loudly against the table. Lord Grenville, moreover, had a

most perfect cook--some wags asserted that he was a scion of the old



French NOBLESSE, who having lost his fortune, had come to seek it in

the CUISINE of the Foreign Office.



Marguerite Blakeney was in her most brilliant mood, and surely

not a soul in that crowded supper-room had even an inkling of the



terrible struggle which was raging within her heart.

The clock was ticking so mercilessly on. It was long past



midnight, and even the Prince of Wales was thinking of leaving the

supper-table. Within the next half-hour the destinies of two brave



men would be pitted against one another--the dearly-beloved brother

and he, the unknown hero.



Marguerite had not tried to see Chauvelin during this last

hour; she knew that his keen, fox-like eyes would terrify her at once,



and incline the balance of her decision towards Armand. Whilst she

did not see him, there still lingered in her heart of hearts a vague,



undefined hope that "something" would occur, something big, enormous,

epoch-making, which would shift from her young, weak shoulders this






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