“I must confess it.”
“Is she, or is she not, a Valois?”
“I believe she is.”
“Well, then, I ask an honorable pension for her and a regiment for her husband. In fact, a decent position for this branch of the royal family.”
“An honorable pension? Mon Dieu! how you run on, madame. Do you know what a terrible hole this winter has made in my funds? A regiment for this little gendarme, who speculated in marrying a Valois? Why, I have no regiments to give, even to those who deserve them, or who can pay for them. An income befitting a Valois for these people? when we, monarch as we are, have not one befitting a rich gentleman. Why, M. d’Orleans has sent his horses and mules to England for sale, and has cut off a third of his establishment. I have put down my wolf-hounds, and given up many other things. We are all on the privation list, great and small.”
“But these Valois must not die of hunger.”
“Have you not just given them one hundred louis?”
“And what is that?”
“A royal gift.”
“Then give such another.”