I took the hand she extended towards me, and pressed it to my lips.
‘Madame,’ said I, ‘there is but one favour more I would ask in this world, and with it I could think myself happy.’
‘But can I grant it, mon cher?’ said she, smiling.
‘If I am to judge from the influence I have seen you wield, madame, here and elsewhere, this petition will easily be accorded.’
A slight flush coloured the lady’s cheek, while that of the general became dyed red with anger. I saw that I had committed some terrible blunder, but how, or in what, I knew not.
‘Well, sir,’ said Madame Merlancourt, addressing me with a stately coldness of manner, very different from her former tone, ‘let us hear what you ask, for we are already taking up a vast deal of time that our host would prefer devoting to his friends—what is it you wish?’
‘My discharge from a service, madame, where zeal and enthusiasm are rewarded with infamy and disgrace; my freedom to be anything but a French soldier.’
‘You are resolved, sir, that I am not to be proud of my protégé,’ said she haughtily; ‘what words are these to speak in presence of a general and his officers?’
‘I am bold, madame, as you say, but I am wronged.’
‘How so, sir—in what have you been injured?’ cried the general hastily, ‘except in the excessive condescension which has stimulated your presumption. But we are really two indulgent in this long parley. Madame, permit me to offer you some coffee under the trees. Contardo, tell the band to follow us. Gentlemen, we expect the pleasure of your society.’