The Mesmerist's Victim

But Louis had other matters to do than look at these lords. The paltriness of these parasites would have made him smile at another time: but they awakened no emotion on this occasion in the railing monarch, who would spare no infirmity in his best friend – granting that he had any friends.

He went to the window and saw the coach of Dubarry driven away at great speed.

“The countess must be in a rage to go off without saying good-bye to me,” he said aloud.

Richelieu, who had been waiting for his cue to enter, glided in at this speech.

“Furious, Sire?” he repeated; “because your Majesty had a little sport this evening? that would be bad on her ladyship’s part.”

“Duke, deuce a bit did I find sport,” said the King: “on the other hand, I am fagged, and want repose. Music enervates me: I should have done better to go over to Luciennes for supper and wine: yes, plenty of drink, for though the wine there is wretched, it sends one to sleep. Still I can have a doze here.”

“Your Majesty is a hundred times right.”

“Besides, the countess will find more fun without me. Am I so very lively a companion? though she asserts I am, I don’t believe a word of it.”

“Your Majesty is a hundred times wrong, now.”

“No, no, duke; really! I count my days now and I fall into brown studies.”

“Sire, the lady feels that she will never meet a jollier companion and that is what makes her mad.”

“Dash me if I know how you manage it, duke; you lure all the fair sex after you, as if you were still twenty. At that age, man may pick and choose: but at mine – women lead us by the nose.”

The marshal laughed.

“My lord, if the countess is finding diversion elsewhere, the more reason for us to find ours where we can.”

“I do not say that she is finding but that she will seek it.”

“I beg to say that such a thing was never known.”

“Duke,” said the King, rising from the seat he had taken, “I should like to know by a sure hand whether the countess has gone home.”

“I have my man Rafté, but it seems to me that the countess has gone sure enough. Where but straight home do you imagine she would go?”

“Who can tell – jealousy has driven her mad.”

“Sire, would it not rather be your Majesty who has given her cause for it – any other assumption would be humiliating to all of us.”

“I, make her jealous,” said the King with a forced laugh; “in fact, duke, are you speaking in earnest?”

Richelieu did not believe what he said: he was close to the truth in thinking that the King wanted to know whether Lady Dubarry had gone home in order to be sure that she would not drop in at the Trianon.

“I will send Rafté to learn,” he said: “what is your Majesty going to do before supper?”

“We shall sup at once. Is the guest without?”

“Overflowing with gratitude.”

“And the daughter?”

“He has not mentioned her yet.”

“If Lady Dubarry were jealous and was to come back – ”

“Oh, Sire, that would show such bad taste, and I do not believe the lady is capable of such enormity.”

“My lord, she is fit for anything at such times, particularly when hate supplements her spite. She execrates Taverney, as well as your grace.”

“Your Majesty might include a third person still more execrated – Mdlle. Andrea.”

“That is natural enough,” granted the King; “so it ought to be prepared that no uproar could be made to-night. Here is the steward – hush! give your orders to Rafté, and bring the person into the supper room.”

In five minutes, Richelieu rejoined the King, accompanied by Taverney, to whom the host wished good evening most pleasantly.

The baron was sharp and he knew how to reply to crowned and coroneted heads so that they would see he was one of themselves and be on easy terms with them.

They sat at table and began to feast.

Louis XV. was not a good King, but he was a first-rate boon companion; when he liked, he was fine company for those who like jolly eaters, hearty drinkers and merry talkers. He ate well and drew the conversation round to Music. Richelieu caught the ball on the fly.

“Sire,” said he, “if Music brings men into harmony, as our ballet-master says and your Majesty seems to think, I wonder if it works the same with the softer sex?”

“Oh, duke, do not drag them into the chat,” said the King. “From the siege of Troy to our days, women have always exerted the contrary effect to music. You above all have good reasons not to bring them on the board. With one, and not the least dangerous, you are at daggers-drawn.”

“The countess, Sire? is it any fault of mine?”

“It is.”

“I hope your Majesty will kindly explain – ”

“I can briefly; and will with pleasure,” returned the host jestingly: “public rumor says that she offered you the portfolio of some ministerial office and you refused it, which won you the people’s favor.”

Richelieu of course only too clearly saw that he was impaled in the dilemma. The King knew better than anybody that he had not been offered any place in any cabinet. But it was necessary to keep Taverney in the idea that it had been done. Hence the duke had to answer the joke so skillfully as to avoid the reproach the baron was getting ready for him.

“Sire,” said he, “let us not argue about the effects so much as the cause. My refusal of a portfolio is a secret of state which your Majesty is the last to divulge at a merry board; but the cause of my rejecting, it is another matter.”

“Ho, ho, so the cause is not a state secret, eh?” said the King chuckling.

“No, Sire, particularly none for your Majesty: who is at present, for my lord baron and myself, the most amiable host man mortal ever had; I have no secrets from my master. I yield up my whole mind to him for I do not wish it to be said that the King of France has a servant who does not tell him the truth.”

“Pray, let us have the whole truth,” said the monarch, while Taverney smoothed his face in imitation of the King’s for fear the duke would go too far.

“Sire, in the kingdom are two powers that should be obeyed; your will, to begin with, and next that of the friends whom you deign to choose as intimates. The first power is irresistible and none try to elude it. The second is more sacred as it imposes duties of the heart on whomsoever serves you. This is called your trust: a minister ought to love while he obeys the favorite of your Majesty.”

“Duke,” said the King, laughing: “That is a fine maxim which I like to hear coming from your mouth. But I defy you to shout it out on the market-place.”

“Oh, I am well aware that it would make the philosophers fly to arms,” replied the old politician; “but I do not believe their cries or their arms much daunt your Majesty or me. The main point is that the two preponderating wills of the realm should be satisfied. Well, I shall speak out courageously to your Majesty, though I incur my disgrace or even my death – I cannot subscribe to the will of Lady Dubarry.”