“A droll way of showing your affliction.” The duke meant to say “affection.”
“But, my lord,” returned La Ramee, “what would you do if you got out? Every folly you committed would embroil you with the court and they would put you into the Bastile, instead of Vincennes. Now, Monsieur de Chavigny is not amiable, I allow, but Monsieur du Tremblay is considerably worse.”
“Indeed!” exclaimed the duke, who from time to time looked at the clock, the fingers of which seemed to move with sickening slowness.
“But what can you expect from the brother of a capuchin monk, brought up in the school of Cardinal Richelieu? Ah, my lord, it is a great happiness that the queen, who always wished you well, had a fancy to send you here, where there’s a promenade and a tennis court, good air, and a good table.”
“In short,” answered the duke, “if I comprehend you aright, La Ramee, I am ungrateful for having ever thought of leaving this place?”
“Oh! my lord duke, ’tis the height of ingratitude; but your highness has never seriously thought of it?”
“Yes,” returned the duke, “I must confess I sometimes think of it.”
“Still by one of your forty methods, your highness?”
“Yes, yes, indeed.”
“My lord,” said La Ramee, “now we are quite at our ease and enjoying ourselves, pray tell me one of those forty ways invented by your highness.”