“You are truly a great man, duke, for you have guessed aright,” answered Taverney.
“It is tantamount to saying that it is high time for our master no longer to force us, nobles, peers and companions of the King of France, to kiss the base and harpy hand of a courtesan of the Dubarry type. Time that he danced to our piping, and that after falling from the Marchioness of Chateauroux, who was fit to be a duchess, to the Pompadour, who was the daughter and wife of a cook, then from her to Dubarry, and from her again to some kitchen wench or dairymaid. It is humiliating to us, baron, who wear coronets round our helmets, to bend our heads to such jades.”
“Ah, here be truths well spoken,” said Taverney, “and it is clear that a void is made at court by these low fashions.”
“With no queen, no ladies; with no ladies, no courtiers; and the commoners are on the throne in Jeanne Vaubernier, now Dubarry, a seamstress at Paris.”
“Granting things stand so, yet—— ”
“There is a fine position at present. I tell you, my lord, for a woman of wit to rule France—— ”
“Not a doubt of it, but the post is held,” said Taverney with a throbbing heart.
“A woman,” pursued the marshal, “who, without vice, would have the far-reaching views, calculation and boldness of these vixens; one who would so adorn her fortune that she would be spoken of after the monarchy ceased to exist. Has your daughter brightness and sense?”
“Yes.”
“And she is lovely, of the charming and voluptuous turn so pleasing men; with that virginal flower of candor which imposes respect on women themselves. You must take care of your treasure, my old friend.”