“Yes, monsieur.”
“Have a chat with him; and you might say that the Dubarrys are working in his interests to smooth matters with Choiseul—which, in fact, they are not.”
“Yes, monsieur.”
“See that he is allowed plenty of exercise—tennis and so forth, but always strictly guarded, for I know this devil of a Rochefort, one can’t count on his whims, and should prison gall him he may, even against his own interests, try to break out and fly into the claws of Choiseul.”
“Yes, monsieur.”
Beauregard went off on his mission, and as he left the room, the Vicomte Jean Dubarry was announced.
“My dear Sartines,” cried Jean as they shook hands, “I just called to see if you were going to Choiseul’s reception to-night.”
“I have been invited,” replied Sartines.
“And you will go?”
“Yes, I think I will go—why are you so pressing?”