Peyrolles inclined profoundly. "Yes, monseigneur," he said, and waited.
The long knowledge of his master's manner, the long study of the
expression on his master's face, told him he had not done with him, and
he was right, for in a moment Gonzague spoke to him again:
"This gypsy girl will serve the turn to perfection. She is dark, as
Gabrielle de Caylus was dark. She is beautiful, not so beautiful as
Gabrielle de Caylus indeed, but, bah! filia pulchra, matre pulchrior.
Before the king to-day I will produce her. The princess cannot but accept
her. If afterwards a charming young girl should die of a decline--many
die so--the fortune of Louis de Nevers becomes the fortune of Louis de
Gonzague, who will know very well what to do with it, having the
inestimable advantage of being alive."
Peyrolles indulged in the privilege of a faint little laugh at this
witticism of his master, but apparently the applause did not please
Gonzague, who gave him a gesture of dismissal. "Send the girl to me at
once," he said; and with a still more humble salute Peyrolles quitted the
apartment. When Gonzague was alone he sat for a few minutes staring
before him like one who dreams waking. Then he turned and glanced at the
picture of Louis de Nevers, and an ironical smile wrinkled, more than
time had ever done, his handsome face. Evidently the contemplation of the
picture seemed to afford him a great deal of satisfaction, for he was
still looking at it, and still wearing the same amused smile, when the
door behind him opened and Flora came timidly into the room. She was not
in appearance the same Flora who had dwelt in the caravan and danced for
strangers on the previous day. She was now richly and beautifully dressed
as a great lady should be, but she seemed more awkward in her splendid
garments than she had ever seemed in the short skirts of the gypsy.
Gonzague, whose every sense was acute, heard her come in, though she
stepped very softly, and abandoned his contemplation of the picture of
Louis de Nevers. He turned round and rose to his feet, and made her one
of his exquisite salutations. The girl drew back with a little gasp and
pressed her hands to her bosom.