“Very seriously, sire,—I beg pardon, I mean count;” and Cagliostro bowed in such a way as to indicate that his error was a voluntary one.
“Then,” said the marshal, “Madame Dubarry is not old enough to be made young again?”
“No, on my conscience.”
“Well, then, I will give you another subject: here is my friend, M. Taverney—what do you say to him? Does he not look like a contemporary of Pontius Pilate? But perhaps, he, on the contrary, is too old.”
Cagliostro looked at the baron. “No,” said he.
“Ah! my dear count,” exclaimed Richelieu; “if you will renew his youth, I will proclaim you a true pupil of Medea.”
“You wish it?” asked Cagliostro of the host, and looking round at the same time on all assembled.
Every one called out, “Yes.”
“And you also, M. Taverney?”
“I more than any one,” said the baron.