As the King of France entered the antechamber a dead hush fell upon all there, and Rupert Holliday looked eagerly to see what sort of man was the greatest sovereign in Europe.  
Louis was under middle height, in spite of his high-heeled shoes, but he had an air of dignity which fully redeemed his want of stature. Although he was sixty-six years of age, he was still handsome, and his eyes were bright, and his movements quick and vivacious.
 
The courtiers all bent low as the king moved slowly down the line, addressing a word here and there. The king's eye quickly caught that of the young Englishman, who with his companion was taller than the majority of those present.
 
Louis moved forward until he stopped before him.
 
"So, Sir Englishman," he said, "you are one of those who have been maltreating our soldiers. Methinks I have more reason than you have to complain of the fortune of war, but I trust that in your case the misfortune will be a light one, and that your stay in our court and capital will not be an unpleasant one."
 
"I have no reason, sire, to complain of the fortune of war," Rupert said, "since to it I owe the honour of seeing your gracious Majesty, and the most brilliant court in the world!"
 
"Spoken like a courtier," the king said with a slight smile. "Pray consider yourself invited to all the fetes at court and to all our entrees and receptions, and I hope that all will do their best to make your stay here agreeable."
 
Then with a slight inclination of the head he passed on, saying in an audible tone to the nobles who walked next, but a little behind him, "This is not such a bear as are his island countrymen in general!"
 
"In another hour, Rupert, is the evening reception, at which the ladies of the court will be present; and although all set fetes have been arrested owing to the news of the defeat in Flanders, yet as the king chooses to put a good face upon it, everyone else will do the same, therefore you may expect a brilliant assembly. Adele will of course be there. Shall I introduce you, or leave it to chance?"
 
"I would rather you left it to chance," Rupert said, "except, that as you do not desire it to be known that we have met before, it would be better that you should present me personally; but I should like to see if she will recognize me before you do so."
 
"My daughter is a young lady of the court of his most puissant Majesty Louis the 14th," the marquis said, somewhat bitterly, "and has learned not to carry her heart upon her sleeve. But before you show yourself near her, I will just warn her by a word that a surprise may take place in the course of the evening, and that it is not always expedient to recognize people unless introduced formally. That will not be sufficient to give her any clue to your being here, but when she sees you she will recall my warning, and act prudently."
 
Presently they entered the immense apartment, or rather series of apartments, in which the receptions took place.
 
Here were gathered all the ladies of the court; all the courtiers, wits, and nobles of France, except those who were in their places with the army. There was little air of ceremony. All present were more or less acquainted with each other.
 
In a room screened off by curtains, the king was playing at cards with a few highly privileged members of the court, and he would presently walk through the long suite of rooms, but while at cards his presence in no ways weighed upon the assembly. Groups of ladies sat on fauteuils surrounded by their admirers, with whom volleys of light badinage, fun, and compliments were exchanged.
 
Leaving Rupert talking to some of those to whom he had been introduced in the king's antechamber, and who were anxious to obey the royal command to make themselves agreeable to him, the Marquis de Pignerolles sauntered across the room to a young lady who was sitting with three others, surrounded by a group of gentlemen.
 
Rupert was watching him, and saw him stoop over the girl, for she was little more, and say a few words in her ear. A surprised and somewhat puzzled expression passed across her face, and then as her father left her she continued chatting as merrily as before.
 
Rupert could scarcely recognize in the lovely girl of seventeen the little Adele with whom he had danced and walked little more than four years before.
 
Adele de Pignerolles was English rather than French in her style of beauty, for her hair was browner, and her complexion fresher and clearer, than those of the great majority of her countrywomen. She was vivacious, but her residence in England had taught her a certain restraint of gesture and motion, and her admirers, and she had many, spoke of her as l'Anglaise.
 
Rupert gradually moved away from those with whom he was talking, and, moving round the group, went through an open window on to a balcony, whence he could hear what was being said by the lively party, without his presence being noticed.
 
"You are cruel, Mademoiselle d'Etamps," one of the courtiers said. "I believe you have no heart. You love to drive us to distraction, to make us your slaves, and then you laugh at us."
 
"It is all you deserve, Monsieur le Duc. One would as soon think of taking the adoration of a butterfly seriously. One is a flower, butterflies come round, and when they find no honey, flit away elsewhere. You amuse yourself, so do I. Talk about hearts, I do not believe in such things."
 
"That is treason," the young lady who sat next to her said, laughing. "Now, I am just the other way; I am always in love, but then I never can tell whom I love best, that is my trouble. You are all so nice, messieurs, that it is impossible for me to say whom I love most."
 
The young men laughed.
 
"And you, Mademoiselle de Rohan, will you confess?"
 
"Oh, I am quite different," she said. "I quite know whom I love best, but just as I am quite sure about it, he does something disagreeable or stupid--all men are really disagreeable or stupid when you get to know them--and so then I try another, but it is always with the same result."
 
"You are all very cruel," the Duc de Carolan laughed. "And you, Mademoiselle de Pignerolles? But I know what you will say, you have never seen anyone worth loving."
 
Adele did not answer; but her laughing friends insisted that as they had confessed their inmost thoughts, she ought to do the same.
 
For a moment she looked serious, then she laughed, and again put on a demure air.
 
"Yes," said she, "I have had a grande passion, but it came to nothing."
 
A murmur of "Impossible!" ran round the circle.
 
"It was nearly four years ago," she said.
 
"Oh, nonsense, Adele, you were a child four years ago," one of her companions said.
 
"Of course I was a child," Adele said, "but I suppose children can love, and I loved an English boy."
 
"Oh, oh, mademoiselle, an English boy!" and other amused cries ran round the circle.
 
"And did he love you, mademoiselle?" the Duc de Carolan asked.
 
"Oh, dear no," the girl answered. "I don't suppose I should have loved him if he had. But he was strong, and gentle, and brave, and he was nearly four years older than I was, and he always treated me with respect. Oh, yes, I loved him."
 
"He must have been the most insensible of boys," the Duc de Carolan said; "but no doubt he was very good and gentle, this youthful islander; but how do you know that he was brave?"
 
The sneering tone with which the duke spoke was clearly resented by Adele, for her cheek flushed, and she spoke with an earnestness quite different from the half-laughing tone she had hitherto spoken in.
 
"I know that he was brave, Monsieur le Duc, because he fought with, and ran through the body, a man who insulted me."
 
The girl spoke so earnestly that for a moment a hush fell upon the little group; and the Duc de Carolan, who clearly resented the warm tone in which she spoke, said:
 
"Quite a hero of romance, mademoiselle. This unfortunate who incurred your Paladin's indignation was clearly more insolent than skillful, or Sir Amadis of sixteen could hardly have prevailed against the dragon."
 
This time Adele de Pignerolles was seriously angry:
 
"Monsieur le Duc de Carolan," she said quietly, "you have honoured me by professing some admiration of my poor person, and methinks that good taste would have demanded that you would have feigned, at least, some interest in the boy who championed my cause. I was wrong, even in merry jest, to touch on such a subject, but I thought that as French gentlemen you would understand that I was half serious, half jesting at myself for this girlish love of mine. He is not here to defend himself against your uncourteous remarks; but, Monsieur le Duc, allow me to inform you that the fact that the person who insulted me paid for it almost with his life was no proof of his great want of skill, for monsieur my father will inform you, if you care to ask him, that had you stood opposite to my boy hero, the result would probably have been exactly the same; for, as I have often heard him say that this boy was fully a match for himself; I imagine that the chance of a nobleman who, with all his merits, has not, so far as I have heard, any great pretensions to special skill with his sword, would be slight indeed."
 
The duke, with an air of bitter mortification on his face, bowed before the indignant tone in which Adele spoke; and as the little circle broke up, the rumour ran round the room that L'Anglaise had snubbed the Duc de Carolan in a crushing manner.
 
Scarcely had the duke, with a few murmured excuses, withdrawn from the group, than the marquis advanced towards his daughter with a tall figure by his side.
 
"Adele," he said, "allow me to introduce to you the English officer whose own unlucky fate threw him into my hands. He desires to have the honour of your acquaintance. You may remember his name, for his family lived in the county in which we passed some time. Lieutenant Rupert Holliday, of the English dragoons."
 
Adele had not looked up as her father spoke. As he crossed the room towards her she had glanced towards his companion, whose dress showed him to be the English officer who was, as she knew, with him; but something in her father's tone of voice, still more the sentences with which he introduced the name, warned her that this was the surprise of which he had spoken, and the name, when it came at last, was almost expected. Had it not been for the manner in which she had just been speaking, and the vague wonder that flashed through her mind whether he could have heard her, she could have met Rupert, with such warning as she had had, as a perfect stranger. What she had said was perfectly true, that as a child he had been her hero; but a young girl's heroes seldom withstand the ordeal of a four years' absence, and Adele was no exception. Rupert had gone out of her existence, and she had not thought of him, beyond an occasional feeling of wonder whether he was alive, for years; and had it not been for that unlucky speech--which, indeed, she could not have made had any of her girlish feeling remained, she could have met him as frankly and cordially as in the days when they danced together.
 
In spite, therefore, of her efforts, it was with a heightened colour that, as demanded by etiquette, Adele rose, and making a deep reverence in return to the even deeper bow of Rupert, extended her hand, which, taking the tips of the fingers, Rupert bent over and kissed. Then, looking up in her face, he said:
 
"The marquis your father has encouraged me to hope that you will take pity upon a poor prisoner, and forget and forgive his having fought against your compatriots."
 
Adele adroitly took up the line thus offered to her, and was soon deep in a laughing contest with him as to the merits of their respective countries, and above all as to his opinion of French beauty. Rupert answered in the exaggerated compliments characteristic of the time. After talking with her for some little time he withdrew, saying that he should have the honour of calling............