THE PAGE TRANSFORMED.
At daylight the next morning, a dashing page, clothed in the livery of
some great house, which no one in Versailles could satisfactorily
identify, came riding up the streets of the town entirely at his
leisure, and looking around curiously as if the place were new to him.
He dismounted in front of The Swan, and calling for a hostler in the
affected and somewhat effeminate voice so fashionable among his class,
entered the inn.
“What do I please to want?” he said, giving a twirl to the long
love-lock that waved down his shoulder. “First, I shall want some
breakfast, and a room in which this dilapidated toilet can be arranged;
for, upon my honor, madame, I am ashamed to stand in this guise before a
lady of so much taste, and so fine a presence—queenly I might say, but
that I fear so much familiarity might——”
“Nay, speak out—speak frankly, my friend,” said Dame Tillery, fluttering
heavily. “It is true, the air of a court may cling to one; indeed, I
feel that it is so. Since yesterday this inn, large and commodious as
every one will admit, seems too small for me. There is no room for the
expansion that comes natural after a free intercourse with royal
personages.”
“Ah! I understand; but there is nothing surprising in the fact that
royalty knows where it can bestow favors.”
“Not favors, but confidence,” interposed the dame.
“Yes, confidence. I dare say it is you who have granted favors.”
Dame Tillery drew close to the page, first looking over her shoulder to
make sure that no one was listening.
“Would you call it a favor if a person I will not mention, being modest,
had saved the queen’s life?”
“Would I?” answered the page, stepping back and throwing a world of
reverence and astonishment into his air; “that would be to make one’s
self immortal. Ah! if the chance had been given me.”
“You could not have done it. Such things require strength and wonderful
presence of mind.”
“I dare say; in fact, the thought was presumption. If I could but obtain
an audience with her highness, it would be glory enough for me, even
though I do bring her good news.”
“Indeed,” said the dame. “Is that your business? Good news for her
highness, and no one to introduce you. Well, we shall see what can be
done.”
“Kind and noble, as they told me,” answered the page, with enthusiasm.
“‘Go to Dame Tillery, of The Swan. She has power, she has influence with
the court; her introduction will be the making of you.’ This was what
was said to me.”
“But who said it? Pray tell me, who said it?”
“Ah! that is my secret. Some one who knows you well and understood how
you are considered up yonder;—but we will mention no names—diplomacy
forbids it.”
“Diplomacy!” said the dame, somewhat puzzled by the word. “Certainly, I
understand. He is the lord you serve, who sends good news to the queen.
It would be a shame, a pity, if you could not reach her; but, as I said
before, we shall think of it.”
“And now for the room and the breakfast,” answered the page, accepting
her patronage with a profound bow.
“The breakfast I can promise you—in that respect The Swan is never
wanting; but as for a room, the truth is, I have a person here whose
name I need not mention, as it might be an offence to some one we know
of—a lady whom one neither wishes to entertain or offend, but who has
taken every room in my house for herself and her train; but there is a
closet next her own chamber, which a little marmosette of a page sleeps
in; I will turn him out and give the room to you. Only move softly and
speak low, for the partition is thin, and there is danger of being
overheard.”
The page bowed low again with a hand on his heart.
“I see that the praise I heard of madame’s goodness is well bestowed.
Place me anywhere, I shall be content, so long as there is a pallet on
which I may snatch a few hours’ rest, and light enough to refresh my
toilet by.”
“The room has a glazed window, and you shall not be disturbed.”
“Meanwhile, perhaps you will think of some method by which I can speak
to the queen.”
“It is difficult, very difficult; but there are few things that Dame
Tillery cannot accomplish when all her energies are set upon it. This is
the room; marmosette has arisen—go in, go in; if he has left anything
there, set it outside the door, and draw the bolt. I see his bed has not
been touched.”
The page stepped over the threshold, saying,
“I will not disturb the lady with any noise.”
“Oh! never mind her—she cannot rule here! The time was—but no matter; a
good morning’s sleep to you. When the breakfast is ready you shall be
informed.”
The page entered the little room assigned to him, threw himself on the
pallet-bed, and burst into a low, rich gush of laughter, that was little
in keeping with the promise he had made not to disturb the lady in the
next room. A few minutes after Zamara came to the door. The page sprung
up, drew the bolt, and gave the dwarf a glimpse of his laughing face.
“Go away!” he said, “I am here safe and well. Your lady will sleep late;
she is ill—has an abominable headache. I should not wonder if she keeps
her bed all day.”
Zamara left the door infinitely relieved, for he had been very anxious
during the night. In the passage he met Dame Tillery.
“How has your lady rested?” she inquired. “Have you seen her this
morning?”
“No; but I will inquire,” answered the dwarf.
“It is time, we must be thinking about her breakfast.”
“I fear madame will have but little appetite; she was not well last
night.”
“Still we must take her orders. Yes, yes, I am coming! Was ever a house
like this! Dame Tillery here, Dame Tillery there! If I could cut myself
into a dozen, it would not be enough. You hear how they are calling me,
marmosette. In ten minutes I will be back again—expect me.”
Zamara went at once to the door which he had just left, and, after a
faint knock, put his lips to the key-hole, and whispered something to
the person he heard moving inside. Then he sauntered away, waiting
patiently for the reappearance of the dame. She appeared at last,
breathing heavily, and flushed with the exertion she was forced to make
in lifting her ponderous weight up the stairs.
“Now you will make inquiries about madame,” she said. “It is important;
I have so much to accomplish before presenting myself at the chateau.”