“Lady,” he said, “you have amply paid the slight service I did you. Do not believe what Sartines said about plots and conspiracies. This casket contains my chemical recipes written in the language of Alchemy which his ignorant clerks interpreted according to their lights. Our craft is not yet enfranchised from prejudices and only the young and bright like your ladyship are favorable to it.”
“What would have happened if I had not come to your help?”
“I should have been sent into some prison, but I can melt stone with my breath so that your Bastile would not long have retained me. I should have regretted the loss of the formula for the chemical secrets by which I hope to preserve your marvelous beauty and splendid youthfulness.”
“You set me at ease and you delight me, count. Do you promise me a philter to keep me young?”
“Yes: but ask me for it in another twenty years. You cannot now want to be a child forever!”
“Really, you are a capital fellow! But I would rather have that draft in ten, nay five years—one never knows what may happen.”
“When you like.”
“Oh, a last question. They say that the King is smitten with the Taverney girl. You must tell me; do not spare me if it is true; treat me as a friend and tell me the truth.”
“Andrea Taverney will never be the mistress of the King. I warrant it, as I do not so will it.”
“Oh!” cried Lady Dubarry.