The countess glanced quickly at the clock on the sculptured mantel- piece. "It is almost ten," said she.

"Your clock is nearly an hour too fast," said Eugene, who had followed the direction of his mother's eyes. And he drew out his own watch.

She looked at it a moment. "True--your watch is slow. Eugene. You knew, then, before you came hither, that no one had yet arrived?"

"Dear mother," responded Eugene, "you think--"

"I think that you are a tender, loving son," said she, interrupting him. "But it is not necessary to deceive me, dear boy. I know that it is almost an hour past the time I had appointed; but that signifies nothing. It was not known until late that I would receive to-night, and this is the reception-day of the d.u.c.h.ess de Luynes. My guests will naturally have gone thither first, and they will come later to us."

"You are quite right," replied Eugene. "But would it not be better for you to retire to your cabinet and rest until the company arrive?

I will call you as soon as the rooms begin to fill."

She shook her head slowly. "No--I remain here. It would be cowardly to retire now. Let us calmly await our distinguished guests. They will be coming very soon."

Eugene bowed his head in obedience to her commands, and stationed himself by the side of his sisters. There was another long silence, interrupted by the slow, inflexible strokes of the clock, which announced the hour of "ten."

Great drops of anguish stood out upon the pale, high forehead of the prince, and his sisters could no longer restrain their tears. The countess alone looked resolute: her features betrayed no emotion whatever; but about her mouth there hovered a vindictive smile, and in her eyes there was a light like that which glitters in the serpent's head that looks out from the deadly jungles of India.

"Would that I could breathe poison into the veins of yonder staring menials at the door!" said she to herself. "Would that I could blind their staring eyes with lightning! But for them I might leave this fiery furnace of shame, and hide my face within the privacy of my own room!"

A sound was heard without, and the Princess Joanna unconsciously clasped her hands with delight, exclaiming, "There comes a carriage!"

The countess turned around, and glanced fiercely at her unsophisticated daughter. "Is there anything remarkable in the sound of a carriage, that it should occasion so much joy, mademoiselle?

Are carriages so rare within the gates of the Hotel Soissons?"

The door opened, and the gentleman-usher, with his gilded staff, appeared on the threshold.

"Madame la Marquise Dupont de Lanin," cried he, and the lady followed the announcement at once.

Often had the poor old marquise attended the levees of the Countess de Soissons, but never before had she been accorded so distinguished a reception. She was tolerated in the salons of Paris on account of her high birth and connections; added to which she had a tongue in her mouth like a two-edged sword, which flew hither and thither about the reputations of those who slighted or forgot her claims to courtesy.

To-night she was most graciously, most cordially welcomed. Like the dove which brought the olive-branch to Noah, the marquise was a messenger from dry land. The waters had subsided--the deluge of their troubles was over.

With wreathed smiles and flattering words, Olympia came forward to greet her first guest. The old marquise received the unprecedented attention paid her without the least manifestation of surprise. With her sharp old eyes, she traversed the empty vastness of the gilded halls that were wont to swarm with the creme de la creme of Paris, and understood the matter at once. She had scarcely had time to reciprocate the politeness of her hostess before two other carriages rolled into the court-yard and two more distinguished names were announced by the usher.

This time an old d.u.c.h.ess and an equally venerable viscount entered the room of state. Their social STATUS was similar to that of the marquise: they belonged to the species whom the world is compelled to invite, but whom it detests, because they never have been known to decline an invitation. But they, too, were heartily welcomed, and, by one not initiated in the mysteries of the hour, they would have been set down as the countess's dearest friends.

Eugene took no part in the conversation which ensued. He had again resumed his taciturn and unsocial demeanor, and now, with folded arms, he stood in the deep recess of a curtained window, sometimes looking gloomily out into the night, anon glancing at the little knot of adventurers, and personages of doubtful reputation, who occasionally added another to the meagre group that were around his mother. Olympia strove to converse gayly with her a.s.semblage of insupportables, but she was chafing like an infuriated lioness.

"If Marianna and De Luxemburg would but come! I might, at least, learn how I stand at court, and find out why the king returned to the Louvre by an unusual route. Heavens! how long will I be able to smile upon these hateful bores? How long sustain the burden of this insufferable lie?"

The evening waned, and neither Marianna, De Luxemburg, nor any other member of the court circle appeared, to silence the apprehensions or soothe the wounded pride of the haughty Countess de Soissons. But late--very late--when she had relinquished all hopes of another arrival, the doors were flung open, and the usher, in a loud voice, announced: "His highness the Duke de Bouillon!"

CHAPTER VII.

HELP IN TIME OF NEED.

Olympia, who, with three or four wrinkled old fops, and as many withered dames, had just taken her seat at a card-table, kissed her hand, and received her brother-in-law, with a profusion of smiles such as never before had greeted his entrance into the salons of the Hotel Soissons.

He seemed to be totally unconscious of her blandishments, as, with a slight inclination to the company, he came very close to the hostess, and, regardless of etiquette, whispered something in her ear.

His communication must have been of a nature to excite mirth, for she threw back her head, and, laughing rather more boisterously than was her wont, rose quickly from her seat.

"Of course, my dear duke," said she, so as to be heard by all who were around; "of course you shall have the drops for my sister. I regret to hear that she needs them. Come with me to my cabinet, and you shall receive them from my hand. I will even taste them in your presence, that they may not be suspected of containing poison.

Follow me, if my kind friends will excuse us for a few moments."

With a graceful bend of her head, the countess crossed the room, and disappeared with her brother-in-law. From the window to which he had retired, Eugene had seen and heard what was pa.s.sing, and in the stern expression of the Duke de Bouillon's face he had read something of more significance than a whispered request for headache-drops. No sooner had his mother left the room than he followed her, and as she was about to enter her cabinet, he laid his hand upon her shoulder:

"Pardon, dear mother," said he, in fond and deprecating tones. "I merely wish to say, that during your interview with my uncle, I will remain in the little room adjoining. You may want me, perchance, to execute some commission--it may be to bear an apology to our guests."

"It will be better for Prince Eugene to take part in our conference," said the duke, with his usual moroseness. "He is the only son you have in Paris, and, as the representative of the family, it is proper for him to hear what I am about to communicate."

"I consent," replied Olympia, calmly. "I have no secrets from my son, and your highness may speak without reserve what you have come hither at this unusual hour to say."

With these words she entered her cabinet, the others following silently behind. The duke closed the door and looked around, to see that there were no other occupants of the room. He peered curiously at the heavy folds of the satin curtains which concealed the windows, and, having satisfied himself that no listeners lurked behind, he spoke.

"You are quite sure that we cannot be overheard?" said he, addressing the countess.

"Perfectly sure," replied she. "Of these walls it may be said, that, unlike walls of ordinary construction, they have no ears. Speak without apprehension. But above all things let us be seated."

"No, madame, let us remain as we are, and hearken to my words. You know that La Voisin was arrested last night."

"I know it. Monsieur Louvois brought me the news this morning, and it was corroborated by the rabble that attacked us not long after his departure from the palace. It is said that La Voisin is a toxicologist, and that she has been in the habit of selling poison to her patrons. Was this what you came to say?"

"With this I intended to open my communication, madame. That La Voisin has trafficked in poisons is proved, and she will a.s.suredly mount the scaffold for her crimes. But the next point is to inquire to whom her poudre de succession has been sold."

"Has the question been put to La Voisin?" asked the countess, carelessly. "They have only to inquire of her; doubtless she will reveal the names of her friends."

The duke came nearer, and looked sternly in her face. "The question has been asked, and it has been answered, madame."

The countess shuddered, but recovered herself instantaneously.

Momentary as it was, however, Eugene had seen the motion, and now his large dark eyes were fixed upon his uncle with a look of steady defiance.

"The confessions of La Voisin can be of no significance to the Countess de Soissins," said he, haughtily. "She cannot have made any declaration that would compromise a n.o.ble lady!"

"Nevertheless she has compromised one of the n.o.blest names in France," returned the duke. "She was forced to reveal the names of her confederates."

"Yes! they have been as cruel as they were to poor Brinvilliers; they have taken her to the chambre ardente." cried the countess, in a trembling voice.

"Yes, madame, she was taken to the chambre ardente, stretched upon the rack, and then she confessed." "Confessed what?" gasped Olympia.

"She confessed to have sold her poudre de succession; to have foretold the future, and to have prepared love-philters."

"I do not know that there is treason in drawing horoscopes and brewing love-philters," returned the countess, with a forced laugh.