"Does Madame de Maintenon receive this afternoon?" was Philip's question to the usher upstairs.
"She does, Sir; and His Royal Highness the Duke of Bretagne is with her."
"Oh, I don't want to see anybody who will swear!" said Celia, drawing back.
"If the Duke of Bretagne have learned to swear," answered Philip, gravely, "he must be a marvel of juvenile depravity; for he will not be three years old until next February."
"A child!" said Celia. "I beg the little thing's pardon; I have no objection to that."
"The future King of France, my dear," said Philip. "He will be Louis XV. (if he live) in a few years, at the utmost. Now, three low courtesies for Madame de Maintenon."
In a quiet, pleasant chamber, hung with dark blue, an old lady sat showing a picture-book to a very little boy who stood leaning against her knee. She did not look her age, which was seventy-eight. Her figure was rather inclining to be tall, and she preserved the taste, the grace, and the dignity which had always characterized her. A complexion of extreme fairness was relieved by black eyes, very large and radiant, but the once chestnut hair now required no powder to make it white.
"Mr. Philip Ingram?" she said, with a peculiarly pleasant smile; "I am very much pleased to see you."
"My sister, Madame," said Philip, as he presented Celia.
"I did not know that you had a sister," she answered, receiving Celia very kindly. "Louis, will you give your hand to this lady?"