The Mesmerist's Victim

“However, being no longer a peer, you will be exposed to the long bills of these blackbirds,” he proceeded; “take refuge in obscurity for a few years. Besides, this safeguard, obscurity, will help you without your imagining it. Unpropped by your title, you will more grandly become the minister, because with more effort. Lady Dubarry will do more for you thus disarmed, for she wears you in her heart – and is a solid supporter.”

Aiguillon rose without shooting at the jester one angry look for all the suffering he inflicted.

“You are right, uncle,” he said, tranquilly, “and your wisdom shows in the last piece of advice. Lady Dubarry will defend me – she, to whom you introduced me and to whom you recommended me so warmly. Thank God! she likes me. She is brave and has full power over the King’s mind. I thank you, uncle, for your hint, and I shall hie to her residence at Luciennes as to a haven of safety. What, ho there! my horses to be put to the carriage.”

The marshal was sorely puzzled but he had some consolation when at evening he saw the delight of the Parisians on reading the posters proclaiming the disgrace of Aiguillon.

“Do you think, Rafté, that the duke will get out of this scrape?” asked the old intriguer of his valet and confidential man, who rather deserved the name of Crafty.

He had been forty years in his service.

“The King will.”

“Oh, the King will always have a loophole. But the King has nothing to do with this case.”

“Why, my lord, if the King can get through, Lady Dubarry will follow, and lead my lord of Aiguillon with her.”

“You do not understand politics, Rafté.”

Rafté was as keen as his master.

“Well, my lord, our lawyer, Flageot, who is member of Parliament, he thinks the King will not get out of it.”

“Who will net the lion?”

“The rat, instead of helping him out.”

“Oh, is Flageot the rat?”

“He says so. I always believe a lawyer when he promises anything unkind.”

“We must look into the Flageot method, then, Rafté. But let me have something to eat before I go to sleep. It has upset me to see my poor nephew unmade peer of France and his chances of the Prime-Minister-ship knocked on the head. An uncle naturally feels for his nephew, eh?”

From sighing he set to laughing.

“You would have made as good a minister yourself,” said Rafté.

On the morrow of the day when the terrible Parliamentary decree filled Paris and Versailles with noise, and all were in expectation of the next step, Richelieu returned to Versailles and carrying on his ordinary court life, saw his man Rafté enter with a letter which seemed to fill him with disquietude participated in by his master.

“The King is good,” said the duke after opening the letter and smiling though he had frowned at the start. “He appoints Aiguillon Prime Minister.”

Thus ran the letter:

“MY DEAR UNCLE: Your kind advice has borne fruit. I confided my chagrin to that excellent friend of our house, Lady Dubarry, who was good enough to repeat the confidence to his Majesty. The King is indignant at the rudeness done me by the Parliamentary gentry, after my having so faithfully employed myself in his service. In his State Council this day, he has cancelled the decree and bids me continue in my place as peer and duke. I know the pleasure this news will give you, my dear uncle. You have the news before anybody else in the world. Believe in my tender respect, my dear uncle, and continue your good graces and good advice to your affectionate

    AIGUILLON.”

“He pokes fun at me into the bargain,” said the reader. “The idea of the King jumping into this hornet’ nest!”

“You would not believe me yesterday saying so.”

“I said that he would get out of it. You see he does.”

“In fact, Parliament is beaten.”

“So am I. And forever. I must pay the forfeit. You do not understand how grating on me will be the laughs at Luciennes. The duke is there now, laughing at me in chorus with La Dubarry, Jean and Chon, while the black boy snaps his fingers at me over the candy I gave him. ‘Odsboddikins!’ I have a soft heart, but this makes me furious.”

“Then you should not have acted as you did, my lord.”

“You goaded me on.”

“I? what do I care whether the Duke of Aiguillon is or is not a peer of France? Man of brains though you are, your grace makes blunders that I would not forgive in a low-bred fellow like me.”

“Explain, my old Rafté, and I will own if I am wrong.”

“You wanted to be revenged yesterday, did you not? you aimed to humble your nephew because he was likely to be the Premier instead of your grace – well, such revenge costs dear. But you are rich and can afford to pay.”

“What would you have done in my place, you knowing dog?”

“Nothing; you could not but show your spite because the Dubarry woman thought your nephew was younger than yourself.”

A growl from the old marshal was all the comment.

“Parliament was egged on by you to do what it has done; knowing the decree would be issued, you offered your services to your unsuspecting nephew.”

“I admit I was wrong. You ought to have given me a warning.”

“I, prevent you doing ill? you are always saying that I am of your making and I should be little after your model if I was not joyful at your making a mistake, or bringing about evil.”

“Oh, you think evil will come of it?”

“Certainly; you are obstinate and will keep open the breach – Aiguillon will be the bridge between Dubarry and Parliament on which all the fighting will take place. After he shall have been very well trampled upon, he will suffer the fate of used-up wood – they will cast him away into the lumber-room – that is, into the Bastile. He will be minister first, but you will be exiled all the same.”

“Bastile?” repeated Richelieu, shrugging his shoulders so sharply that he spilt half his snuff on the carpet. “Is our Louis the Fourteenth one?”

“No; but Lady Dubarry, with Aiguillon to back her, is up to the mark of Lady Maintenon. Beware! at present I do not know any princesses who will take you green goslings and sweetmeats when you lie in prison.”

“Pretty prognostics, these!” said the duke after a long silence. “You read the future, do you? what about the present?”

“Your grace is too wise for me to offer advice.”

“You knave, are you still poking fun at me?”

“Mind, my lord, a man is not a knave after forty, and I am sixty-seven.”

“If not a knave you are your own counsel – be mine.”

“If the King’s act is not known yet, why not let the President of Parliament have the duke’s letter and the royal decree in Council? Wait till the Parliament has debated on them, and then go and see your lawyer, Flageot. As he is your grace’s lawyer he must have some case of ours in hand. Ask him about it and learn how things stand.”