“No; but Lady Dubarry, with Aiguillon to back her, is up to the mark of Lady Maintenon. Beware! at present I do not know any princesses who will take you green goslings and sweetmeats when you lie in prison.”
“Pretty prognostics, these!” said the duke after a long silence. “You read the future, do you? what about the present?”
“Your grace is too wise for me to offer advice.”
“You knave, are you still poking fun at me?”
“Mind, my lord, a man is not a knave after forty, and I am sixty-seven.”
“If not a knave you are your own counsel—be mine.”
“If the King’s act is not known yet, why not let the President of Parliament have the duke’s letter and the royal decree in Council? Wait till the Parliament has debated on them, and then go and see your lawyer, Flageot. As he is your grace’s lawyer he must have some case of ours in hand. Ask him about it and learn how things stand.”
“But seeing the family lawyer is your province, Master Rafté.”
“Nay, that was all very well when Flageot was a simple ‘paper-stainer,’ but henceforth Flageot is an Attila, a scourge of kings, and only a duke and peer of France can talk to the likes of him.”
“Are you serious or having a jest?”