“The rat, instead of helping him out.”
“Oh, is Flageot the rat?”
“He says so. I always believe a lawyer when he promises anything unkind.”
“We must look into the Flageot method, then, Rafté. But let me have something to eat before I go to sleep. It has upset me to see my poor nephew unmade peer of France and his chances of the Prime-Minister-ship knocked on the head. An uncle naturally feels for his nephew, eh?”
From sighing he set to laughing.
“You would have made as good a minister yourself,” said Rafté.
On the morrow of the day when the terrible Parliamentary decree filled Paris and Versailles with noise, and all were in expectation of the next step, Richelieu returned to Versailles and carrying on his ordinary court life, saw his man Rafté enter with a letter which seemed to fill him with disquietude participated in by his master.
“The King is good,” said the duke after opening the letter and smiling though he had frowned at the start. “He appoints Aiguillon Prime Minister.”
Thus ran the letter:
“MY DEAR UNCLE: Your kind advice has borne fruit. I confided my chagrin to that excellent friend of our house, Lady Dubarry, who was good enough to repeat the confidence to his Majesty. The King is indignant at the rudeness done me by the Parliamentary gentry, after my having so faithfully employed myself in his service. In his State Council this day, he has cancelled the decree and bids me continue in my place as peer and duke. I know the pleasure this news will give you, my dear uncle. You have the news before anybody else in the world. Believe in my tender respect, my dear uncle, and continue your good graces and good advice to your affectionate