. .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.
CHAPTER XII THE SCRAP OF PAPER
Marguerite suffered intensely. Though she laughed and
chatted, though she was more admired, more surrounded, more FETED
than any woman there, she felt like one condemned to death, living her
last day upon this earth.
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