Already unpopular, the Duke of Aiguillon was discouraged and sat in a state of torpor at the impending overthrow when his uncle, the Duke of Richelieu, was announced. He ran to welcome him with all the more eagerness as he had been trying to meet him lately without the old fox being discoverable.
“Uncle,” he began when he had cornered the other in an armchair so he could not retreat, “is it true that you, the wittiest man in France could not see that I should be as selfish for us two as for myself alone? you have been shunning me when I most have need of you.”
“Upon honor, I do not understand you.”
“I will in that case make all clear. The King was not inclined to make you Prime Minister vice Choiseul banished, and he did make me commander of the Light Cavalry, so that you suppose I sold you to get my reward.”
“If I failed, you have won, and that is enough for the house of Richelieu. You have nothing to grumble about for you are high in favor and in six months will be ruler. Suppose I am the dog who snapped at the shadow of the meat—and letting the meat drop, sees another run away with it. I have learnt a lesson—but the meat is ours all the same. But what do I hear?”
“Nothing uncle; pray go on.”
“But it is a carriage—I am in the way.”
“No, no, go on for I love fables—— ”
“Nay, it may be the appointment as minister—the meat! the little countess—— ”
“She heartily loves you, uncle—— ”