"Ah, Monsieur Chauvelin," added Marguerite, looking almost with defiance across at the placid, sphinx-like face of the Frenchman, "His Royal Highness should add that we ladies think of him as of a hero of old. . .we worship him. . .we wear his badge. . .we tremble for him when he is in danger, and exult with him in the hour of his victory."Chauvelin did no more than bow placidly both to the Prince and to Marguerite; he felt that both speeches were intended--each in their way--to convey contempt or defiance. The pleasure-loving, idle Prince he despised: the beautiful woman, who in her golden hair wore a spray of small red flowers composed of rubies and diamonds--her he held in the hollow of hand: he could afford to remain silent and to wait events.
A long, jovial, inane laugh broke the sudden silence which had fallen over everyone.
"And we poor husbands," came in slow, affected accents from gorgeous Sir Percy, "we have to stand by. . .while they worship a demmed shadow."Everyone laughed--the Prince more loudly than anyone. The tension of subdued excitement was relieved, and the next moment everyone was laughing and chatting merrily as the gay crowd broke up and dispersed in the adjoining rooms.