"May I be permitted to know, Monsieur le Baron," he asked, walking to meet him ceremoniously, "to what new circumstance I am indebted for the honor of this visit?"
"Why," rejoined Canolles, somewhat taken aback by this ungracious reception, "to a very natural circumstance. I am hungry. I thought that you must be in the same plight. You are alone, I am alone; and I wished to have the honor of suggesting to you that we sup together."
The viscount looked at Canolles with evident distrust, and seemed to feel some embarrassment in answering him.
"Upon my honor!" said Canolles, laughing, "one would say that I frighten you; are you a knight of Malta, pray? Are you destined for the Church, or has your respectable family brought you up in holy horror of the Canolles? Pardieu! I shall not ruin you if we pass an hour together on opposite sides of a table."
"Impossible for me to go to your room, baron."
"Very well, don't do it. But as I am already here – "
"Even more impossible, monsieur; I am expecting some one."
This time Canolles was disarmed.
"You are expecting some one?" he said.
"Yes."
"'Faith," said Canolles, after a moment of silence, "I should almost prefer that you had let me go on at any risk, rather than spoil, by your manifest repugnance for my society, the service you rendered me, for which I fear that I have not as yet thanked you sufficiently."
The young man blushed and walked to Canolles' side.
"Forgive me, monsieur," he said in a trembling voice; "I realize how rude I am; and if it were not serious business, family matters, which I have to discuss with the person I expect, it would be both an honor and a pleasure to admit you as a third, although – "
"Oh, finish!" said Canolles; "whatever you say, I am determined not to be angry with you."
"Although," continued the viscount, "our acquaintance is one of the unforeseen results of mere chance, one of those fortuitous meetings, one of those momentary relations – "
"Why so?" queried Canolles. "On the contrary, the most sincere and enduring friendships are formed in this way: we simply have to give credit to Providence for what you attribute to chance."
"Providence, monsieur," the viscount rejoined with a laugh, "decrees that I depart two hours hence, and that, in all probability, I take the opposite direction to that you will take; receive, therefore, my sincere regrets at my inability to accept, gladly as I would do so if I could, the friendship you offer me so cordially, and of which I fully appreciate the worth."
"You are a strange fellow, upon my word," said Canolles, "and the generous impulse upon which you acted in the first place gave me quite a different idea of your character. But of course it shall be as you desire; I certainly have no right to persist, for I am your debtor, and you have done much more for me than I had any right to expect from a stranger. I will return, therefore, to my own room, and sup alone; but I assure you, viscount, it goes against my grain. I am not addicted to monologue."
Indeed, notwithstanding what he said, and his declared purpose to withdraw, Canolles did not withdraw; some power that he could not understand seemed to nail him to his place; he felt irresistibly drawn to the viscount, who, however, took up a candle and approached him with a charming smile.
"Monsieur," said he, extending his hand, "however that may be, and short as our acquaintance has been, I beg you to believe that I am overjoyed to have been of service to you."
Canolles heard nothing but the compliment; he seized the hand the viscount offered him, which was warm and soft, and, instead of answering his friendly, masculine pressure, was withdrawn at once. Realizing that his dismissal was none the less a dismissal, although couched in courteous phrase, he left the room, disappointed and thoughtful.
At the door he encountered the toothless smile of the old valet, who took the candle from the viscount's hands, ceremoniously escorted Canolles to his door, and hastened back to his master, who was waiting at the top of the stairs.
"What is he doing?" the viscount asked in an undertone.
"I think he has made up his mind to take supper alone," replied Pompée.
"Then he won't come up again?"
"I hope not, at least."
"Order the horses, Pompée; it will be so much time gained. But what is that noise?"
"I should say it was Monsieur Richon's voice."
"And Monsieur de Canolles?"
"They seem to be quarrelling."
"On the contrary, they are greeting each other. Listen!"
"If only Richon does n't say anything."
"Oh! there's no fear of that; he's very circumspect."
"Hush!"
As they ceased to speak, they heard Canolles' voice.
"Two covers, Master Biscarros," he cried. "Two covers! Monsieur Richon sups with me."
"By your leave, no," replied Richon; "it's impossible."
"The deuce! so you too propose to sup alone, like the young gentleman upstairs?"
"What gentleman?"
"The one upstairs, I say."
"What's his name?"
"Vicomte de Cambes."
"Oho! you know the viscount, do you?"
"Pardieu! he saved my life."
"He?"
"Yes, he."
"How was that?"
"Sup with me, and I'll tell you the whole story during supper."
"I cannot; I am to sup with him."
"Ah! yes; he is awaiting some one."
"Myself; and as I am late, you will allow me to leave you, will you not, baron?"
"Sacrebleu! no, I will not allow it!" cried Canolles. "I have taken it into my head that I will sup in company, and you will sup with me or I with you. Master Biscarros, two covers!"
But while Canolles turned his back to see if the order was executed, Richon darted rapidly up the staircase. When he reached the top stair a little hand met his and drew him into the viscount's room, the door of which immediately closed behind him, and was locked and bolted for greater security.
"In very truth," muttered Canolles, looking about in vain for Richon, and seating himself at his solitary table, "in very truth, I don't know what the people of this cursed country have against me; some of them run after me to kill me, and others avoid me as if I had the plague. Corbleu! my appetite is vanishing; I feel that I am growing melancholy, and I am capable of getting as drunk as a lansquenet to-night. Holé! Castorin, come here and be thrashed. Why, they are locking themselves in up there as if they were conspiring. Double calf that I am! of course they are conspiring; that's just it, and it explains everything. The next question is, in whose interest are they conspiring? – the coadjutor's? the princes'? the parliament's? the king's? the queen's? Monsieur de Mazarin's? 'Faith, they may conspire against any one they choose, it's all the same to me; and my appetite has returned. Castorin, order up my supper, and give me some wine; I forgive you."
Thereupon Canolles philosophically attacked the first supper that was prepared for the Vicomte de Cambes, which Master Biscarros was compelled to serve up to him, warmed over, for lack of supplies.
IV
Let us now see what was taking place under Nanon's roof while Baron de Canolles was vainly seeking some one to sup with him, until, growing weary of the profitless quest, he decided at last to sup by himself.
Nanon, whatever her enemies may have said or written – and among her enemies must be accounted the great majority of the historians who have devoted any space to her