Lady Dubarry was saying: “Am I to expect your Majesty to supper this evening?” and the reply was “I am afraid I am too tired and should like to be excused.”
At this juncture the Dauphin dropped into the box and said, almost stepping on the countess’s toes without appearing to see her:
“Sire, is your Majesty going to do us the honor of taking supper at the Trianon?”
“No, my son; I was just saying to the countess that I am too tired for anything. All your youthful liveliness bewilders me; I shall take supper alone.”
The prince bowed and retired. Lady Dubarry courtseyed very low and went her way, quivering with ire. The King then beckoned to Richelieu.
“Duke, I have some business to talk to you upon; I have not been pleased with the way matters go on. I want an explanation, and you may as well make it while we have supper. I think I know this gentleman, duke?” he continued, eyeing Taverney.
“Certainly—it is Taverney.”
“Oh, the father of this delightful songstress?”
“Yes, Sire.”
The King whispered in the duke’s ear while the baron dug his nails into his flesh to hide his emotion.