The king rose. “Let me see it,” he said.
“I do not know if I ought.”
“Certainly you ought. Have you got it with you?”
“Yes, sire;” and he drew from his pocket “The History of the Queen Etteniotna,” one of the fatal numbers which had escaped from Philippe and Charny.
The king glanced over it rapidly. “Infamous!” he cried.
“You see, sire, they pretend the queen went to M. Mesmer’s.”
“Well, she did go.”
“She went?”
“Authorized by me.”
“Oh, sire!”