"
Madame shrugged.
"There's the vicomte, for another."
Madame spread the most charming pair of hands.
"And the poet," Anne continued.
Madame tucked away a rebel curl above her ear.
"And last, but not least, there's the Chevalier du Cevennes. The
governor was very kind to permit you to remain incognito."
Madame's face became animated. "What an embarrassing thing it is to be
so plentifully and frequently loved!"
"If only you loved some one of these noble gentlemen!"
"D'Herouville, a swashbuckler; D'Halluys, a gamester; Du Cevennes, a
fop. Truly, you can not wish me so unfortunate as that?"
"Besides, Monsieur du Cevennes does not know nor love you."
"I suppose not. How droll it would be if I should set about making him
fall in love with me!--to bring him to my feet and tell him who I
am--and laugh!"
"I should advise you not to try it, Gabrielle. He might become
formidable. Are you not mischief endowed with a woman's form?"
"A mare's nest it is, truly; but since I have entered it
willingly . . ."
"Well?"
"I shall not return to France on the Henri IV," determinedly.
"But Du Cevennes and the others?"
"I shall avoid Monsieur du Cevennes; I shall laugh in D'Herouville's
face; the vicomte will find me as cold and repelling as that iceberg
which we passed near Acadia.
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