“Pish, Sire,” said Richelieu. “You know my respect for the King who twice put me in the Bastile; but that ought not to stay me from saying that there is no room for a comparison between the old age of Louis XIV. and Louis XV. at his prime.”
The King was in the meet state this evening to receive this praise, which fell on him like the spray from the Fountain of Youth, or Althota’s magic elixir.
Thinking the opening had come, Richelieu gave Taverney the hint by knocking his knee against his.
“Sire,” said the baron, “will your Majesty allow me to present my thanks for the magnificent present made my daughter?”
“Nothing to thank me for, my lord. Mdlle. de Taverney pleased me with her decent and honorable bearing. I only wish my daughters had come from the convent as creditably. Certainly, Mdlle. Andrea—I think I have the name—— ”
“Yes, Sire,” cried the noble, delighted at the King having his daughter’s name so pat.
“A pretty name! Certainly, she would have been the first on my list, and not solely from the alphabetical order: but it is not to be thought of—all my time is monopolized. But, baron, take this as settled: the young lady shall have all my protection. I fear she is not richly dowered?”
“Alas, no, Sire!”
“Then, I shall arrange about her marriage.”
Taverney saluted very lowly.