“Some verses which were printed in the Mercury.”
“Some verses!” said the count, growing red.
“Oh, yes; you are a favorite of the Muses.”
“Not I, sire.”
“Oh, do not deny it; I have the manuscript in your writing! Now, if you had informed yourself of what the queen really did that day, instead of writing these lines against her, and consequently against me, you would have written an ode in her favor. Perhaps the subject does not inspire you; but I should have liked a bad ode better than a good satire.”
“Sire, you overwhelm me; but I trust you will believe I was deceived, and did not mean harm.”
“Perhaps.”
“Besides, I did not say I believed it; and then, a few verses are nothing. Now, a pamphlet like one I have just seen——”
“A pamphlet?”
“Yes, sire; and I want an order for the Bastile for the author of it.”