CHAPTER XLII.

THE PAGE TRANSFORMED.

At daylight the next morning, a dashing page, clothed in the livery of some great house, which no one in Versailles could satisfactorily identify, came riding up the streets of the town entirely at his leisure, and looking around curiously as if the place were new to him. He dismounted in front of The Swan, and calling for a hostler in the affected and somewhat effeminate voice so fashionable among his class, entered the inn.

“What do I please to want?” he said, giving a twirl to the long love-lock that waved down his shoulder. “First, I shall want some breakfast, and a room in which this dilapidated toilet can be arranged; for, upon my honor, madame, I am ashamed to stand in this guise before a lady of so much taste, and so fine a presence—queenly I might say, but that I fear so much familiarity might——”

“Nay, speak out—speak frankly, my friend,” said Dame Tillery, fluttering heavily. “It is true, the air of a court may cling to one; indeed, I feel that it is so. Since yesterday this inn, large and commodious as every one will admit, seems too small for me. There is no room for the expansion that comes natural after a free intercourse with royal personages.”

“Ah! I understand; but there is nothing surprising in the fact that royalty knows where it can bestow favors.”

“Not favors, but confidence,” interposed the dame.

“Yes, confidence. I dare say it is you who have granted favors.”

Dame Tillery drew close to the page, first looking over her shoulder to make sure that no one was listening.

“Would you call it a favor if a person I will not mention, being modest, had saved the queen’s life?”

“Would I?” answered the page, stepping back and throwing a world of reverence and astonishment into his air; “that would be to make one’s self immortal. Ah! if the chance had been given me.”

“You could not have done it. Such things require strength and wonderful presence of mind.”

“I dare say; in fact, the thought was presumption. If I could but obtain an audience with her highness, it would be glory enough for me, even though I do bring her good news.”

“Indeed,” said the dame. “Is that your business? Good news for her highness, and no one to introduce you. Well, we shall see what can be done.”

“Kind and noble, as they told me,” answered the page, with enthusiasm. “‘Go to Dame Tillery, of The Swan. She has power, she has influence with the court; her introduction will be the making of you.’ This was what was said to me.”

“But who said it? Pray tell me, who said it?”

“Ah! that is my secret. Some one who knows you well and understood how you are considered up yonder;—but we will mention no names—diplomacy forbids it.”

“Diplomacy!” said the dame, somewhat puzzled by the word. “Certainly, I understand. He is the lord you serve, who sends good news to the queen. It would be a shame, a pity, if you could not reach her; but, as I said before, we shall think of it.”

“And now for the room and the breakfast,” answered the page, accepting her patronage with a profound bow.

“The breakfast I can promise you—in that respect The Swan is never wanting; but as for a room, the truth is, I have a person here whose name I need not mention, as it might be an offence to some one we know of—a lady whom one neither wishes to entertain or offend, but who has taken every room in my house for herself and her train; but there is a closet next her own chamber, which a little marmosette of a page sleeps in; I will turn him out and give the room to you. Only move softly and speak low, for the partition is thin, and there is danger of being overheard.”

The page bowed low again with a hand on his heart.

“I see that the praise I heard of madame’s goodness is well bestowed. Place me anywhere, I shall be content, so long as there is a pallet on which I may snatch a few hours’ rest, and light enough to refresh my toilet by.”

“The room has a glazed window, and you shall not be disturbed.”

“Meanwhile, perhaps you will think of some method by which I can speak to the queen.”

“It is difficult, very difficult; but there are few things that Dame Tillery cannot accomplish when all her energies are set upon it. This is the room; marmosette has arisen—go in, go in; if he has left anything there, set it outside the door, and draw the bolt. I see his bed has not been touched.”

The page stepped over the threshold, saying,

“I will not disturb the lady with any noise.”

“Oh! never mind her—she cannot rule here! The time was—but no matter; a good morning’s sleep to you. When the breakfast is ready you shall be informed.”

The page entered the little room assigned to him, threw himself on the pallet-bed, and burst into a low, rich gush of laughter, that was little in keeping with the promise he had made not to disturb the lady in the next room. A few minutes after Zamara came to the door. The page sprung up, drew the bolt, and gave the dwarf a glimpse of his laughing face.

“Go away!” he said, “I am here safe and well. Your lady will sleep late; she is ill—has an abominable headache. I should not wonder if she keeps her bed all day.”

Zamara left the door infinitely relieved, for he had been very anxious during the night. In the passage he met Dame Tillery.

“How has your lady rested?” she inquired. “Have you seen her this morning?”

“No; but I will inquire,” answered the dwarf.

“It is time, we must be thinking about her breakfast.”

“I fear madame will have but little appetite; she was not well last night.”

“Still we must take her orders. Yes, yes, I am coming! Was ever a house like this! Dame Tillery here, Dame Tillery there! If I could cut myself into a dozen, it would not be enough. You hear how they are calling me, marmosette. In ten minutes I will be back again—expect me.”

Zamara went at once to the door which he had just left, and, after a faint knock, put his lips to the key-hole, and whispered something to the person he heard moving inside. Then he sauntered away, waiting patiently for the reappearance of the dame. She appeared at last, breathing heavily, and flushed with the exertion she was forced to make in lifting her ponderous weight up the stairs.

“Now you will make inquiries about madame,” she said. “It is important; I have so much to accomplish before presenting myself at the chateau.”