That evening Lady Dubarry had to retire from the Town and suburbs.
This is why on the night in question, Versailles was in tribulation. Would the King mend and bring back Lady Dubarry, or would he die and his successor send her farther than where she paused?
On a stone bench at the corner of the street opposite the palace an old man was seated, leaning on his cane, with his eyes bent on the place. He was so buried in his contemplation among the crowds in groups, that he did not perceive a young man who crossed so as to stand by him.
This young man had a bald forehead, a hook nose, with a twist to it, high cheekbones and a sardonic smile.
“Taking the air?” he said as he gave a squint.
The old man looked up.
“Ah, my clever surgeon,” he said.
“Yes, illustrious master,” and he sat by his side. “It appears that the King is getting better? only the small pox, that so many people have. Besides, he has skillful doctors by him. I wager that Louis the Well-Beloved will scratch through; only, people will not cram the churches this time to sing Oh, be joyful! over his recov—— ”
“Hush,” said the old man, starting: “Silence, for you are jesting at a man on whom the finger of God is even now laid.”
Surprised at this language, the younger man looked at the Palace.