leave Monsieur de Kercadiou in peace. Besides, it is not very easy to say what I have come to say, and it may be less difficult to say it to you alone. You will prove as understanding as I hope you will prove discreet."
"Discreet as a confessor, be sure of that, Madame," said André-Louis, inwardly a little impatient.
The Countess considered a moment, her perfect hands smoothing her petticoat of striped taffeta the while.
"When I shall have told you my errand you will be in danger of supposing me just a jealous woman. I warn you against it. I have much for which to answer. But jealousy is a vulgarity which I leave to the vulgar."
"It is inconceivable, madame, that you should ever have had occasion for it."
She flashed him a smile. "That may be the reason. Remember it when you come to judge me. I am to speak, sir, of the lady whom I am told you are to marry. Frankly, it is not on her own account that her fate concerns me, but because of the...let us say regard... which you, monsieur, inspire me."
André-Louis was stirred. "Her fate, madame? Is she, then, in danger?"
She shrugged, thrust out a full sensual nether lip, and showed two dimples in a smile. "Some would not account it danger. It depends upon the point of view. In your eyes, Monsieur Moreau, site certainly cannot be accounted safe. Do you even suspect at whose desire she was appointed lady-in-waiting to Madame?"
"You will tell me that it was at Monsieur's," he replied frowning.
She shook her head. "It was at the desire of Madame herself."
He was suddenly at a loss. "But in that case, madame..." He broke off
"In that case you imagine that there is no more to say. You do not think it may be necessary to discover Madame's object. You assume it naturally to be a sympathy for that very charming person Mademoiselle de Kercadiou. That is because you do not know Madame. Mademoiselle de Kercadiou is singularly attractive. There is about her an air of sweetness of freshness, of innocence that arouses tenderness even in women. What, then, must it do in men? So far, for instance, as Monsieur is concerned, I have seldom seen his highness in such a state of deliquescence." There was something contemptuous in her smile, as if she found the susceptible side of Monsieur's nature entirely ridiculous. "Disabuse your mind of the thought that jealousy makes me see what is not present. The Count of Provence might trail a seraglio at his heels without perturbing me."
"But you bewilder me, madame...Am I to believe that because Monsieur...discovered attractions in Mademoiselle de Kercadiou that is a reason why Madame should appoint her to a position that will throw her in his way? Surely not that?"
"Just that, monsieur. Just that. Madame's nature is peculiar; it is warped, soured, malicious. For the satisfaction of contemplating injury to another she will endure even injury to herself. It happens with such natures. I have the distinction of being detested by Madame. This is all the more bitter in her because she is constrained to suffer my attendance and to be civil to me. Now do you understand?"
André-Louis was visibly troubled. "I seem to. And yet..."
"Madame would give her eyes to see me supplanted in the regard, the affection of Monsieur. Does that help you?"
"You mean that to achieve this object, although the exchange can nothing profit her, her highness desires to use Mademoiselle de Kercadiou?"
"That is as concise as it is accurate."
"It is also infamous."
The Countess shrugged. "I should not use so fine a word. It is just the petty malice of a stupid, parasitic woman who is without useful thoughts to engage her."
"I perceive your good intentions, madame." André-Louis was very formal. "You desire to warn me. I am deeply grateful."
"The warning, my friend is hardly uttered yet. Madame sets out to-morrow for Turin. I am to accompany her highness. My position at court demands it. I beg that you will not laugh, Monsieur Moreau."
"I am not laughing, madame."
"You have great self-restraint.