"
Mme. de Montpensier had the temerity to laugh; but for the rest, a sort
of little groan ran through the company. Mme. de Mayenne bade sharply,
"Peace, Blanche!" Mme. de Brie, red with anger, flamed out on her and
Mlle. de Montluc equally:
"You impudent minxes! 'Tis enough that one of you should bring my son
to his death, without the other making a mock of it."
"He's not dying," began the irrepressible Blanche de Tavanne, her eyes
twinkling with mischief; but whatever naughty answer was on her tongue,
our mademoiselle's deeper voice overbore her:
"I am guiltless of the charge, madame. It was through no wish of mine
that your son, with half the guard at his back, set on one wounded man."
"I'll warrant it was not," muttered Mlle. Blanche.
"Mar has turned traitor, and deserves nothing so well as to be spitted
in the dark," Mme. de Brie cried out.
Mademoiselle waited an instant, with flashing eyes meeting madame's. She
had spoken hotly before, but now, in the face of the other's passion,
she held herself steady.
"Your charge is as false, madame, as your wish is cruel. Do you go to
vespers and come home to say such things? M. de Mar is no traitor; he
was never pledged to us, and may go over to Navarre when he will."
It was quietly spoken, but the blue lightning of her eyes was too much
for Mme.
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