There was something so moderate and so mild in the language of the prelate, that the young Count soon learned to take great pleasure in his discourse; and after these few brief words concerning religion, the Bishop of Meaux drew the conversation to arts and sciences, and the great improvements of every kind which had taken place in France under the government of Louis XIV.
They were still speaking on this subject when the King turned at the end of the terrace, and with surprise saw the Count de Morseiul in his train, between Pelisson and Bossuet. A smile of what appeared to be dignified satisfaction came over the monarch's countenance, and as he passed he asked,--
"What are you discussing so eagerly, Monsieur de Meaux?"
"We are not discussing, sire," replied the Bishop, "for we are all of one opinion. Monsieur de Morseiul was saying that in all his knowledge of history--which we know is very great--he cannot find one monarch whose reign has produced so great a change in society as that of Louis the Great."
The King smiled graciously, and passed on. But the same sarcastic personage, who followed close behind the party to which the Count had attached himself, added to Bossuet's speech, almost loud enough for the King to hear, "Except Mahomet! Except Mahomet, Monsieur de Meaux!"
It was impossible either for the Bishop, or the Count, or Pelisson, to repress a smile; but the only one of the party who turned to look was the Count, the others very well knowing the voice to be that of Villiers, whose strange method of paying court to Louis XIV. was by abusing every thing on which the monarch prided himself. He was slightly acquainted with the Count de Morseiul, having met him more than once on service, and seeing him turn his head, he came up and joined them.
"You spoil that man, all of you," he said, speaking of the King. "All the world flatters him, till he does not know what is right and what is wrong, what is good and what is bad, what is beautiful and what is ugly.--Now, as we stand here upon this terrace," he continued, "and look down over those gardens, is there any thing to be seen on the face of the earth more thoroughly and completely disgusting than they are? Is it possible for human ingenuity to devise any thing so mathematically detestable? One would suppose that La Hire, or Cassini, or some of the other clockmakers, had been engaged with their villanous compasses in marking out all those rounds, and triangles, and squares, so that the whole park and gardens, when seen, from my little room (which the King in his immense generosity gave me in the garret story of the palace), look exactly like a dusty leaf torn out of Euclid's Elements, with all the problems demonstrated upon it. Then, Monsieur de Morseiul, do pray look at those basins and statues. Here you have a set of black tadpoles croaking at an unfortunate woman in the midst, as black as themselves. There you have a striking representation of Neptune gone mad--perhaps it was meant for a storm at sea; and certainly, from the number of people death-sick all round, and pouring forth from their mouths into the basins, one might very easily conceive it to be so. There is not one better than another, and yet the King walks about amongst them all, and thinks it the finest thing that ever was seen upon the face of the earth, and has at this moment five-and-twenty thousand men working hard, to render it, if possible, uglier than before."
The Count de Morseiul smiled; and, although he acknowledged that he loved the fair face of the country, unshaven and unornamented better than all that art could do, yet he said, that for the gardens of such a palace as that of Versailles, where solemn and reposing grandeur was required, and regular magnificence more than picturesque beauty, he did not see that better could have been done.
Thus passed the conversation, till the King, after having taken another turn, re-entered the building, and his courtiers quitted him at the foot of the staircase. The Count then inquired of Pelisson where he could best lodge in Versailles, and the Abbé pointed out to him a handsome house, very near that in which the Bishop of Meaux had taken up his abode for the time.
"Do you intend to come speedily to Versailles?" demanded the Bishop.