"Bah, man! prate not to me of promises," interrupted Louis irritably. "I promised him nothing; he knows that well enough—the young fool!"
"Do not let us think of him, Sire; it seems to upset your Majesty."
"It does, milor, it does; for even my worst enemies concede that Louis the Well-beloved is a creature of sympathy."
"A heart of gold, Sire—a heart of gold—er—shall we join the ladies?"
"Milor," said the King abruptly, putting a firm hand on Eglinton's wrist, "we must not allow that young fool to thwart the external politics of France any longer. The Duke of Cumberland, though our own enemy on the field of battle, has shown that England trusts in our honour and loyalty even in the midst of war, but she wants a proof from us."
"Oh, let us give it, Sire, by all means. Prince Charles Edward Stuart——"
"Exactly, milor," said Louis XV quietly; "that is the proof which England wants."
"I am afraid I don't quite understand," said Lord Eglinton, a little bewildered. "You see, I am very stupid; and—and perhaps my wife——"
Then, as King Louis gave a sharp ejaculation of impatience, Mme. de Pompadour broke in, in tones which she knew how to render velvety and soothing to the ear, whilst her delicate fingers rested lightly on M. le Contrôleur's hand.
"It is quite simple, milor," she whispered just as confidentially as the King had done. "This Charles Edward Stuart is a perpetual worry to England. His Grace, the Duke of Cumberland has been accused of unnecessary cruelty because he has been forced to take severe measures for the suppression of that spirit of rebellion, which is only being fostered in Scotland because of that young Pretender's perpetual presence there. He fans smouldering revolt into flame, he incites passions, and creates misguided enthusiasms which lead to endless trouble to all!"