The Duke unable to find his voice, mutely rose. Saluting his wife with the same reverential air he had employed on entering, he passed out of the door.
[Chapter III]
REASONS OF STATE
The interior of the King's cabinet contrasted strikingly with the apartment we have just left. Here we find a veritable museum arranged by an intelligent hand which has collected something of the most beautiful in each esthetic epoch.
The Monarch stretched upon his invalid's couch, surrounded by cushions, his limbs bandaged, converses with his Minister of Police. A fire glows on the hearth, notwithstanding the warmth of the apartment, all the windows and doors being closed. 'Tis the loving heart of the young Countess Cayla that has designed the arrangement of furniture, etc., with the effect of securing the greatest comfort.
Disease makes noticeable ravages in the royal countenance, which, though still expressing a keen intellectual and reflective penetration, even a repressed enthusiasm, begins to become bloated by an insidious edema. The eyes, back of their swollen lids, betray blood decomposition. When the King changes his position, a medicinal odor floats through the elegant apartment, notwithstanding the profusion of rare flowers in alabaster Pompeian vases,—prodigies of antique art,—flowers, brought by the Countess to her invalid friend.
The King economized his conversational forces, replying only when necessity compelled: his words were always affluent and opportune. He listened attentively to the Minister, who was saying:
"Greater danger has never threatened the monarchy. I have long foreseen the evil. 'Tis of many years' standing. My predecessors—I must do them justice—took every precaution to obviate the result. Le Coq in Berlin endeavored to prevent what today seems imminent."
Lecazes took a pinch of snuff, and resumed: