Read Online These Old Shades by Georgette Heyer - Free Book Online

and to the pale Queen beside him, stayed for a few minutes to speak to the Dauphin, and proceeded in a leisurely fashion to where stood Armand de Saint-Vire, in attendance on the King.
    Armand clasped his hands in warm welcome.
    “Mon Dieu, but it is refreshing to see your face, Justin! I did not know even that you were in Paris. Since when have you returned, mon cher ?”
    “Nearly two months ago. Really, this is most fatiguing. I am thirsty already, but I suppose it is quite impossible to obtain any burgundy?”
    Armand’s eyes sparkled in sympathy.
    “In the Salle de Guerre!” he whispered. “We will go together. No, wait, mon ami, La Pompadour has seen you. Ah, she smiles! You have all the luck, Justin.”
    “I could find another name for it,” said Avon, but he went to the King’s mistress, and bowed exceeding low as he kissed her hand. He remained at her side until the Comte de Stainville came to claim her attention, and then made good his escape to the Salle de Guerre. There he found Armand, with one or two others, partaking of light French wines, and sugared sweetmeats.
    Someone handed the Duke a glass of burgundy; one of the footmen presented a plate of cakes, which he waved aside.
    “A welcome interlude,” he remarked. “ A ta santé , Joinlisse! Your servant, Tourdeville. A word in your ear, Armand.” He took Saint-Vire aside to where a couch stood. They sat down, and for a time talked of Paris, court-life, and the trials of a gentleman-in-waiting. Avon allowed his friend to ramble on, but at the first pause in Armand’s rather amusing discourse, he turned the subject.
    “I must make my bow to your charming sister-in-law,” he said. “I trust she is present to-night?”
    Armand’s round good-humoured face became marred all at once by a gloomy scowl.
    “Oh yes. Seated behind the Queen, in an obscure corner. If you are épris in that direction, Justin, your taste has deteriorated.” He snorted disdainfully. “Curds and whey! How Henri could have chosen her passes my comprehension !”
    “I never credited the worthy Henri with much sense,” answered the Duke. “Why is he in Paris and not here?”
    “Is he in Paris? He was in Champagne. He fell into slight disfavour here.” Armand grinned. “That damnable temper, you understand. He left Madame, and that clod-hopping son.”
    Avon put up his eyeglass.
    “Clodhopping?”
    “What, have you not seen him, then? A boorish cub, Justin, with the soul of a farmer. And that is the boy who is to be Comte de Saint-Vire! Mon Dieu, but there must be bad blood in Marie! My beautiful nephew did not get his boorishness from us. Well, I never thought that Marie was of the real nobility.”
    The Duke looked down at his wine.
    “I must certainly see the young Henri,” he said. “They tell me that he is not very like his father or his mother.”
    “Not a whit. He has black hair, a bad nose, and square hands. It is a judgment on Henri! First he weds a puling, sighing woman with no charm and less beauty, and then he produces—that!”
    “One would almost infer that you are not enamoured of your nephew,” murmured his Grace.
    “No, I am not! I tell you, Justin, if it had been a true Saint-Vire I could have borne it better. But this—this halfwitted bumpkin! It would enrage a saint!” He set down his glass on a small table with a force that nearly smashed the frail vessel. “You may say that I am a fool to brood over it, Alastair, but I cannot forget! To spite me Henri marries this Marie de Lespinasse, who presents him with a son after three fruitless years! First it was a still-born child, and then, when I had begun to think myself safe, she astonishes us all with a boy! Heaven knows what I have done to deserve it!”
    “She astonished you with a boy. I think he was born in Champagne, was he not?”
    “Ay, at Saint-Vire. Plague take him. I never set eyes on the brat until three months later when they brought him to Paris. Then I was well-nigh sick with