"It is plain that fate is against me; for, though your lordship has kindly greeted me, the next step is out of the question. Not only am I to pay court to a Dubarry, but I must carry her negro-boy's appointment—a black whom I would not have deigned to kick out of my way on the street——"
Suddenly the usher interrupted:
"Viscount Jean Dubarry."
The chancellor dropped his hands in stupor, while the old petitioner sank back in an armchair without pulse or breath.
Our old acquaintance pranced in, with his arm in a sling:
"Oh, engaged? Pray, do not disturb yourself, my lady; I want only a couple of minutes to make a complaint, a couple of his precious minutes. They have tried to murder me! I did not mind their making fun at us, singing lewd ballads, slandering and libeling us; but it is too much of a vile thing to waylay and murder. But I am interrupting the lady."
"This is the Countess of Bearn," said the chancellor.
Dubarry drew back gracefully to make a proper bow, and the lady did the same for her courtesy, and they saluted as ceremoniously as though they had been in court.
"After you, viscount," she said; "my case is about property; yours about honor, and so takes the lead."
Profiting by her obligingness Dubarry unfolded his complaint.