And le petit lever of M. le Contrôleur was certainly more largely attended than that of M. le Duc d'Aumont, or even—softly be it whispered—than that of His Majesty himself. For although every one knew that M. le Marquis was but a figurehead, and that all graces and favours emanated direct from the hand of Mme. la Marquise Lydie, yet every one waited upon his good pleasure, for very much the same reason that those who expected or hoped something from the King invariably kissed the hand of Mme. de Pompadour.
M. le Contrôleur very much enjoyed these petits levers of his, which were considered the most important social events in Versailles. He was very fond of chocolate in the morning, and M. Achille—that prince of valets—brought it to his bedside with such inimitable grace and withal the beverage itself so aromatic and so hot, that this hour between ten and eleven each day had become extremely pleasant.
He had no idea that being Comptroller-General of Finance was quite so easy and agreeable an occupation, else he had not been so diffident in accepting the post. But in reality it was very simple. He governed France from the depths of his extremely comfortable bed, draped all round with rich satin hangings of a soft azure colour, embroidered with motifs of dull gold, which were vastly pleasing to the eye. Here he was conscious of naught save fine linen of a remarkably silken texture, of a lace coverlet priceless in value, of the scent of his steaming chocolate, and incidentally of a good many pleasant faces, and some unamiable ones, and of a subdued hive-like buzz of talk, which went on at the further end of the room, whilst M. Achille administered to his comforts and Mme. de Pompadour or Mme. la Comtesse de Stainville told him piquant anecdotes.
Yes, it was all very pleasant, and not at all difficult. A wave of the hand in the direction of Mme. la Marquise, his wife, who usually sat in a window embrasure overlooking the park, was all that was needed when petitioners were irksome or subjects too abstruse.
Lydie was so clever with all that sort of thing. She had the mind of a politician and the astuteness of an attorney, and she liked to govern France in an energetic way of her own which left milor free of all responsibility if anything happened to go wrong.
But then nothing ever did go wrong. France went on just the same as she had done before some of her more meddlesome Parliaments insisted on having a Comptroller of Finance at the head of affairs. Mme. de Pompadour still spent a great deal of money, and the King still invariably paid her debts; whereupon, his pockets being empty, he applied to M. le Contrôleur for something with which to replenish them. M. le Contrôleur thereupon ordered M. Achille to bring one more cup of aromatic chocolate for Mme. de Pompadour, whilst His Majesty the King spent an uncomfortable quarter of an hour with Mme. la Marquise d'Eglinton.
The usual result of this quarter of an hour was that His Majesty was excessively wrathful against Mme. Lydie for quite a fortnight; but no one could be angry with "le petit Anglais," for he was so very amiable and dispensed such exceedingly good chocolate.
Par ma foi! it is remarkably easy to govern a country if one happen to have a wife—that, at least, had been milor's experience—a wife and a perfect valet-de-chambre.
M. Achille, since his Marquis's elevation to the most important position in France, had quite surpassed himself in his demeanour. He stood on guard beside the azure and gold hangings of his master's bed like a veritable gorgon, turning the most importunate petitioners to stone at sight of his severe and repressive visage.
Oh! Achille was an invaluable asset in the governing of this kingdom of France. Achille knew the reason of each and every individual's presence at the petit lever of milor. He knew who was the most likely and most worthy person to fill any post in the country that happened to be vacant, from that of examiner of stars and planets to His Majesty the King down to that of under-scullion in the kitchen of Versailles.