“‘The queen sups at home,’ replied the king.
“‘Oh, I believed her at Paris.’
“‘No, she is at home,’ said the king, quietly.
“‘I have just come from there, and been denied to her,’ said M. de Provence.
“Then I saw the king frown. He dismissed us, and doubtless went to make inquiries. Louis is jealous by fits, you know; he must have asked to see you, and being refused, become suspicious.”
“Yes, Madame de Misery had orders to do so.”
“Then, to know whether you were out or not, he has given these strict orders.”
“Oh, it is shameful treatment. Confess, is it not?”
“Indeed, I think so; but here we are.”
“This house?”