"That's just it, _ma tante_," rejoined Fernande gaily. "You fail to detect any humour in to-day's occurrence, so does father--so does Laurent. That is just what seems to me so ludicrous. The situation may be grave, but it is also very funny, and whilst you were all lamenting over it I was turning it over in my mind how best we can utilize it to our advantage."
"You are far too young, Fernande," interposed M. le Comte dryly, "to turn over any grave situation in your mind."
"Let us allow, then, that I have said nothing," retorted Fernande, with the same demure casting down of her eyes, which implied that a fund of worldly knowledge was concealed behind her smooth, white brow.
"Nay, my dear Baudouin," rejoined Mme. la Marquise sharply, "'tis like a father to belittle his own child's wisdom. I for one am over-ready to listen to advice wherever it may come from. I feel so guilty about the whole affair, for I fear me that we have gravely compromised the interests of His Majesty by quarrelling hopelessly with my son.
"I had made such firm resolutions," she added with a sigh, "to conciliate him, to make friends with him if possible. His help--or, failing that, his neutrality--would have been of such immense value to our cause. I had dreams of establishing myself at La Frontenay, of using the place as an arsenal--as headquarters for our leaders ... of suborning or winning over the workmen at the factory.... I am heart-broken at the thought that my own foolishness hath all in a moment destroyed my best laid schemes."
"Nay, _ma tante_," here broke in the young girl, with an elfish toss of her dainty head, "your schemes have not yet gone agley, that I can see. My cousin Ronnay--he is my cousin, is he not?--has of a truth departed hence in high dudgeon--but surely he can be brought back?"
"Never!" asserted M. de Courson emphatically.
And Mme. la Marquise shook her head. "No one can gauge the obstinate temper of a de Maurel--and Ronnay is the living image of his father. It was a delicate business to get him to come here at all. I declare that I am at my wits' ends how to bring him back."
For a moment or two Fernande de Courson was silent; a gentle glow suffused her cheeks, her eyes danced with mischief, her whole face was lit up with inward merriment.