Just then Camporese rushed into the room, and announced that La Veleur was yet breathing. The general, looking at me significantly, said that he would be delighted if the man could be saved.
“And I likewise, monsignor, but his confessor will certainly kill him to-night.”
“Why should the father confessor kill him?”
“To escape the galleys to which your excellency would not fail to send him for having violated the secrecy of the confessional.”
Everybody burst out laughing, but the foolish old general knitted his brows. The guests retired soon afterwards, and Madame F——, whom I had preceded to the carriage, M. D—— R—— having offered her his arm, invited me to get in with her, saying that it was raining. It was the first time that she had bestowed such an honour upon me.
“I am of your opinion about that prince,” she said, “but you have incurred the displeasure of the proveditore.”
“I am very sorry, madam, but it could not have been avoided, for I cannot help speaking the truth openly.”
“You might have spared him,” remarked M. D—— R——, “the cutting jest of the confessor killing the false prince.”
“You are right, sir, but I thought it would make him laugh as well as it made madam and your excellency. In conversation people generally do not object to a witty jest causing merriment and laughter.”
“True; only those who have not wit enough to laugh do not like the jest.”