Raoul turned and saw two faces just arrived. One was perfectly charming, delicate, pensive, shaded by beautiful dark hair, and eyes soft as velvet, like those lovely flowers, the heartsease, in which shine out the golden petals. The other, of mature age, seemed to have the former one under her charge, and was cold, dry and yellow -- the true type of a duenna or a devotee.
Raoul resolved not to quit the room without having spoken to the beautiful girl with the soft eyes, who by a strange fancy, although she bore no resemblance, reminded him of his poor little Louise, whom he had left in the Chateau de la Valliere and whom, in the midst of all the party, he had never for one moment quite forgotten. Meantime Aramis had drawn near to the coadjutor, who, smiling all the while, contrived to drop some words into his ear. Aramis, notwithstanding his self-control, could not refrain from a slight movement of surprise.
"Laugh, then," said Monsieur de Retz; "they are looking at us." And leaving Aramis he went to talk with Madame de Chevreuse, who was in the midst of a large group.
Aramis affected a laugh, to divert the attention of certain curious listeners, and perceiving that Athos had betaken himself to the embrasure of a window and remained there, he proceeded to join him, throwing out a few words carelessly as he moved through the room.
As soon as the two friends met they began a conversation which was emphasized by frequent gesticulation.
Raoul then approached them as Athos had directed him to do.
"'Tis a rondeau by Monsieur Voiture that monsieur l'abbe is repeating to me." said Athos in a loud voice, "and I confess I think it incomparable."
Raoul stayed only a few minutes near them and then mingled with the group round Madame de Chevreuse.
"Well, then?" asked Athos, in a low tone.
"It is to be to-morrow," said Aramis hastily.
"At what time?"
"Six o'clock."
"Where?"
"At Saint Mande."
"Who told you?"
"The Count de Rochefort."
Some one drew near.
"And then philosophic ideas are wholly wanting in Voiture's works, but I am of the same opinion as the coadjutor -- he is a poet, a true poet." Aramis spoke so as to be heard by everybody.
"And I, too," murmured the young lady with the velvet eyes.
"I have the misfortune also to admire his poetry exceedingly."
"Monsieur Scarron, do me the honor," said Raoul, blushing, "to tell me the name of that young lady whose opinion seems so different from that of others of the company."
"Ah! my young vicomte," replied Scarron, "I suppose you wish to propose to her an alliance offensive and defensive."
Raoul blushed again.
"You asked the name of that young lady. She is called the fair Indian."
"Excuse me, sir," returned Raoul, blushing still more deeply, "I know no more than I did before. Alas! I am from the country."
"Which means that you know very little about the nonsense which here flows down our streets. So much the better, young man! so much the better! Don't try to understand it -- you will only lose your time."
"You forgive me, then, sir," said Raoul, "and you will deign to tell me who is the person that you call the young Indian?"
"Certainly; one of the most charming persons that lives -- Mademoiselle Frances d'Aubigne."
"Does she belong to the family of the celebrated Agrippa, the friend of Henry IV.?"
"His granddaughter. She comes from Martinique, so I call her the beautiful Indian."
Raoul looked surprised and his eyes met those of the young lady, who smiled.
The company went on speaking of the poet Voiture.
"Monsieur," said Mademoiselle d'Aubigne to Scarron, as if she wished to join in the conversation he was engaged in with Raoul, "do you not admire Monsieur Voiture's friends?
Listen how they pull him to pieces even whilst they praise him; one takes away from him all claim to good sense, another robs him of his poetry, a third of his originality, another of his humor, another of his independence of character, a sixth -- but, good heavens! what will they leave him? as Mademoiselle de Scudery remarks."
Scarron and Raoul laughed. The fair Indian, astonished at the sensation her observation produced, looked down and resumed her air of naivete.
Athos, still within the inclosure of the window, watched this scene with a smile of disdain on his lips.