The Mesmerist's Victim

More spiteful than any woman, Richelieu enjoyed the revenge he was having on Dubarry. Sidling round to old Taverney, the pair resembled a group of Hypocrisy and Corruption signing a treaty of union.

Their joy brightened all the more as the cloud darkened on Dubarry’s brow. She finished by springing up in a pet, which was contrary to all etiquet, for the King was still in his seat.

Foreseeing the storm like ants, the courtiers looked for shelter. So the Dauphiness and La Dubarry were both clustered round by their friends.

The interest in the rehearsal gradually deviated from its natural line and entered into a fresh order of things. Colin and Colette, the lovers in the piece, were no longer thought of, but whether Madame Dubarry might not have to sing:

“I have lost my only joy —
Colin leaves me all alone.”

“Do you see the stunning success of that girl of yours?” asked Richelieu of Taverney.

He dashed open a glazed door to lead him into the lobby, when the act made a knave who was standing on the knob to peer into the hall, drop to the ground.

“Plague on the rogue,” said the duke; brushing his sleeve, for the shock of the drop had dusted him. He saw that the spy was clad like one of the working people about the Palace.

It was a gardener’s help, in fact, for he had a basket of flowers on his arm. He had saved himself from falling but spilt the flowers.

“Why, I know the rogue,” said Taverney, “he was born on my estate. What are you doing here, rascal?”

“You see, I am looking on,” replied Gilbert proudly.

“Better finish your work.”

“My work is done,” replied the young man humbly to the duke, without deigning to reply to the baron.

“I run up against this idle vagabond everywhere,” grumbled the latter.

“Here, here, my lord,” gently interrupted a voice; “my little Gilbert is a good workman and a most earnest botanist.”

Taverney turned and saw Dr. Jussieu stroking the cheek of his ex-dependent. He turned red with rage and went off.

“The lackeys poking their noses in here!” he growled.

“And the maids, too – look at your Nicole, at the corner of the door there. The sly puss, she does not let a wink escape her.”

Among twenty other servants, Nicole was holding her pretty head over theirs from behind and her eyes, dilated by surprise and admiration, seemed to see double. Perceiving her, Gilbert turned aloof.

“Come,” said the duke to Taverney, “it is my belief that the King wants to speak to you. He is looking round for somebody.”

The two friends made their way to the royal box.

Lady Dubarry and Aiguillon, both on their feet, were chatting.

Rousseau was alone in the admiration of Andrea; he was busy falling into love with her.

The illustrious actors were changing their dresses in their retiring rooms, where Gilbert had renewed the floral decorations.

Taverney, left by himself in the corridor while Richelieu went to the King, felt his heart alternately frozen and seared by the expectation.

Finally his envoy returned and laid a finger on his lips. His friend turned pale with joy, and was drawn under the royal box, where they heard what had few auditors.

Lady Dubarry was saying: “Am I to expect your Majesty to supper this evening?” and the reply was “I am afraid I am too tired and should like to be excused.”

At this juncture the Dauphin dropped into the box and said, almost stepping on the countess’s toes without appearing to see her:

“Sire, is your Majesty going to do us the honor of taking supper at the Trianon?”

“No, my son; I was just saying to the countess that I am too tired for anything. All your youthful liveliness bewilders me; I shall take supper alone.”

The prince bowed and retired. Lady Dubarry courtseyed very low and went her way, quivering with ire. The King then beckoned to Richelieu.

“Duke, I have some business to talk to you upon; I have not been pleased with the way matters go on. I want an explanation, and you may as well make it while we have supper. I think I know this gentleman, duke?” he continued, eyeing Taverney.

“Certainly – it is Taverney.”

“Oh, the father of this delightful songstress?”

“Yes, Sire.”

The King whispered in the duke’s ear while the baron dug his nails into his flesh to hide his emotion.

A moment after, Richelieu said to his friend: “Follow me, without seeming to do so.”

“Where?”

“Never mind – come, all the same.”

The duke set off and Taverney followed within twenty paces to a room where the following gentleman stopped in the anteroom.

He had not long to wait there. Richelieu, having asked the royal valet for what his master had left on the toilet table, came forth immediately with an article which the baron could not distinguish in its silken wrapper. But the marshal soon drew him out of his disquiet when he led him to the side of the gallery.

“Baron, you have sometimes doubted my friendship for you,” observed the duke when they were alone, “and then you doubted the good fortune of yourself and children. You were wrong, for it has come about for you all with dazzling rapidity.”

“You don’t say that?” said the old cynic, catching a glimpse of part of the truth; he was not yet sundered from good and hence not entirely enlisted by the devil. “How is this?”

“Well, we have Master Philip made a captain with a company of soldiers furnished by the King. And Mdlle. de Taverney is nigh to being a marchioness.”

“Go to! my daughter a – ”

“Listen to me, Taverney: the King is full of good taste. When talent accompanies grace, beauty and virtue, it enchants him. Now, your girl unites all these gifts in an eminent degree so that he is delighted by her.”

“I wish you would make the word ‘delighted’ clearer, duke,” said the other, putting on an air of dignity more grotesque than the speaker’s, which the latter thought grotesque as he did not like pretences.

“Baron,” he drily replied, “I am not strong on language and not even good at spelling. For me, delighted signifies pleased beyond measure. If you would not be delighted beyond measure to see your sovereign content with the grace, beauty and virtue of your offspring, say so. I will go back to his Majesty,” and he spun round on his red heels with quite youthful sprightliness.

“Duke, you don’t understand me – hang it! how sudden you are,” grumbled Taverney, stopping him.