She had read the letter to Martial as a test. She
had not succeeded; so much the worse. She rose and accepted his arm to
return to the house.
She seemed to have forgotten her friend, and she was chatting gayly.
When they approached the chateau, she was interrupted by a sound of
voices raised to the highest pitch.
It was the address to the King which was agitating the council convened
in M. de Courtornieu's cabinet.
Mlle. Blanche paused.
"I am trespassing upon your kindness, Monsieur. I am boring you with my
silly chat when you should undoubtedly be up there."
"Certainly not," he replied, laughing. "What should I do there? The role
of men of action does not begin until the orators have concluded."
He spoke so energetically, in spite of his jesting tone, that Mlle. de
Courtornieu was fascinated. She saw before her, she believed, a man
who, as her father had said, would rise to the highest position in the
political world.
Unfortunately, her admiration was disturbed by a ring of the great bell
that always announces visitors.
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