"Had you been more adroit you had been wed by now, Marius, and the future would give us no concern.

As it is, Florimond comes home, and we--" She spread her hands and thrust out her nether lip in a grimace that was almost ugly.

Then: "Come," she said briskly.

"Supper is laid, and my Lord Seneschal will be awaiting us." And before he could reply she had swept past him and taken her way below.

He followed gloomily, and in gloom sat he at table, never heeding the reckless gaiety of the Seneschal and the forced mirth of the Marquise.