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.”