Two groups, composed of acquaintances of the reader, stood aloof from the throng during this incident. In one were Ascanio and Cellini: Benvenuto was weak enough to prefer the "Divina Commedia" to airy conceits. The other group consisted of Comte d'Orbec, the Vicomte de Marmagne, Messire d'Estourville, and Colombe, who had implored her father not to mingle with the crowd, with which she then came in contact for the first time, and which caused her no other sensation than terror. Comte d'Orbec gallantly refused to leave his fiancée, who was to be presented by the provost to the queen after mass.
Ascanio and Colombe, although they were equally bewildered by their strange surroundings, had spied each other at once, and from time to time stealthily exchanged glances. The two pure-hearted, timid children, both of whom had been reared in the solitude which makes noble hearts, would have been isolated and lost indeed in that gorgeous and corrupt throng, had they not been so situated that they could see and thereby mutually strengthen and encourage each other.
They had not met since the day they confessed their love. Half a score of times Ascanio had tried to gain admission to the Petit-Nesle, but always in vain. The new servant, presented to Colombe by Comte d'Orbec, invariably answered his knock instead of Dame Perrine, and dismissed him unceremoniously. Ascanio was neither rich enough nor bold enough to try to buy the woman. Furthermore he had naught but sad news, which she would learn only too soon, to impart to his beloved; the news of the master's avowal of his own passion for Colombe, and the consequent necessity, not only of doing without his support, but perhaps of having to contend against him.
As to the course to be pursued, Ascanio felt, as he had said to Cellini, that God alone could now save him. And being left to his own resources he had, in his innocence, resolved to attempt to soften Madame d'Etampes. When a hope upon which one has confidently relied is blasted, one is always tempted to have recourse to the most desperate expedients. The all-powerful energy of Benvenuto not only had failed Ascanio, but would undoubtedly be turned against him. Ascanio determined, therefore, with the trustfulness of youth, to appeal to what he believed he had discovered of grandeur and nobleness and generosity in the character of Madame d'Etampes, in an attempt to arouse the sympathy of her by whom he was beloved with his suffering. Afterward, if that last fragile branch slipped from his hand, what could he do, a poor, weak friendless child, but wait? That was why he had accompanied Benvenuto to court.
The Duchesse d'Etampes had returned to her place. He joined the throng of her courtiers, reached a position behind her, and finally succeeded in making his way to her chair. Chancing to turn her head, she saw him.
"Ah, is it you, Ascanio?" she said, coldly.
"Yes, Madame la Duchesse. I came hither with my master, Benvenuto, and my excuse for venturing to address you is my desire to know if you were hopelessly dissatisfied with the drawing of the lily which you kindly ordered me to prepare, and which I left at the Hôtel d'Etampes the other day."
"No, in very truth, I think it most beautiful," said Madame d'Etampes, somewhat mollified, "and connoisseurs to whom I have shown it, notably Monsieur de Guise here, are entirely of my opinion. But will the completed work be as perfect as the drawing? and if you think that you can promise that it will, will my gems be sufficient?"
"Yes, madame, I hope so. I should have liked, however, to place on the heart of the flower a large diamond, which would glisten there like a drop of dew; but it would be too great an expense perhaps to incur for a work intrusted to an humble artist like myself."
"Oh, we can indulge in that extravagance, Ascanio."