"Then lend me a thousand—I can do with it," said the man.
"You will get a thousand fillips on the nose sooner than a thousand Louis."
"Is the king going to keep that abominable Choiseul?" questioned Chon.
"That is no novelty—you know that they are sticks-in-the-mud."
"Has the old boy fallen in love with the dauphiness?"
"You are getting warm; but look at the glutton, ready to burst with swilling chocolate and will not lift a finger to help me out of my quandary."
"You never mean to say the king has another fancy?" cried Chon, clasping her hands, and turning pale.
"If I did not say so your brother would, for he will either choke with the chocolate or get it out."
Thus adjured, Jean managed to gasp the name:
"Andrea of Taverney!"