“Oh, Sire, that would show such bad taste, and I do not believe the lady is capable of such enormity.”
“My lord, she is fit for anything at such times, particularly when hate supplements her spite. She execrates Taverney, as well as your grace.”
“Your Majesty might include a third person still more execrated—Mdlle. Andrea.”
“That is natural enough,” granted the King; “so it ought to be prepared that no uproar could be made to-night. Here is the steward—hush! give your orders to Rafté, and bring the person into the supper room.”
In five minutes, Richelieu rejoined the King, accompanied by Taverney, to whom the host wished good evening most pleasantly.
The baron was sharp and he knew how to reply to crowned and coroneted heads so that they would see he was one of themselves and be on easy terms with them.
They sat at table and began to feast.
Louis XV. was not a good King, but he was a first-rate boon companion; when he liked, he was fine company for those who like jolly eaters, hearty drinkers and merry talkers. He ate well and drew the conversation round to Music. Richelieu caught the ball on the fly.
“Sire,” said he, “if Music brings men into harmony, as our ballet-master says and your Majesty seems to think, I wonder if it works the same with the softer sex?”
“Oh, duke, do not drag them into the chat,” said the King. “From the siege of Troy to our days, women have always exerted the contrary effect to music. You above all have good reasons not to bring them on the board. With one, and not the least dangerous, you are at daggers-drawn.”