Aulaire, who had accompanied her into the salon and still remained
at her side. It was the first time that Calvert had seen St. Aulaire,
and, remembering Beaufort's words about him, a sudden pang shot through
his breast as he saw the young girl turn aside with him to make a tour
of the rooms. For, in truth, Monsieur le Baron de St. Aulaire was the
epitome of all that was most licentious, most unworthy, most brilliant
in the Old Order, and was known throughout the kingdom by
reputation--or, more properly speaking, by lack of it. But in spite of
his long life of dissipation and adventure (he had campaigned with the
Swiss Guards at thirteen, and, though he was much past forty, looked
like a man of scarce thirty), there was still such an unrivalled grace
in all he said and did, such an heroic lightness and gallantry in all he
dared--and he dared everything--that he seemed to be eternally young and
incomparably charming. It was with a new-born and deep disgust that
Calvert noted the attentions of this man, whose life he disdained to
think of, to the beautiful girl beside him. And it seemed to him that
she took a wayward pleasure in charming him, though she kept him at a
distance by a sort of imperious coquetry that was not to be presumed
upon.
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