“Yes, yes, I know,” replied Orléans, “your sister-in-law talks too much. In fact, as I recall it, she talks even in her sleep.”
“Monseigneur, and will you never learn discretion?”
“I am discreet enough, in any event, to look upon fratricide rather seriously. So I am sending you to the Bastile for a while, Florian, and indeed the lettre de cachet ordering your imprisonment was made out an hour ago.”
Florian at this had out the small gold box upon whose lid was painted a younger and far more amiable looking Orléans than frowned here in the flesh,—in a superfluity of flesh,—and Florian took snuff. It was always a good way of gaining time for reflection. Wine and cakes were set ready upon the little table. Philippe was probably expecting some woman. There had been no lackeys in the corridor which led to this part of the château. Philippe always sent them away when any of his women were to come in the day-time. Yes, one was quite alone with this corpulent, black-browed and purple-faced Philippe, in this quiet room, which was like a great gilded shell of elaborately carved woodwork, and which had bright panels everywhere, upon the walls and the ceiling, representing, very explicitly indeed, The Triumphs of Love. Such solitude was uncommonly convenient; and one might speak without reticence.
Florian put up his snuff-box, dusted his finger-tips, and said: “I regret to oppose you in anything, monseigneur, but for me to go to prison would be inconvenient just now. I have important business at the Feast of the Wheel to-morrow night.”
Since Philippe had lost the sight of his left eye he cocked his head like a huge bird whenever he looked at you intently. “You had best avoid these sorceries, Florian. I have not yet forgotten that fiend whom your accursed lieutenant evoked for us in the quarries of Vaugirard—” Orléans paused. He said in a while, “Before that night and that vision of my uncle’s death-bed, I was less ambitious, Florian, and more happy.”
“Ah, yes, poor old Mirepoix!” said Florian, smiling. “What a preposterous fraud he was, with his absurd ventriloquism and stuffed crocodiles and magic lanterns! However, he foretold very precisely indeed the extraordinary series of events which would leave you the master of this kingdom: and I had not the heart to see the faithful fellow exposed as an ignoramus who talked nonsense. So I was at some pains to help his prophesying come true, and to make you actually the only surviving male relative at the old King’s death-bed.”
“Let us speak,” said Orléans, with a vexed frown, “of cheerier matters. Now, in regard to your imprisonment—”
“I was coming to your notion of a merry topic. This visit to the Feast of the Wheel is about a family matter, your highness, and is imperative. So I must keep my freedom for the while: and I must ask, in place of a lettre de cachet, a pardon in full.”
“Instead, Florian, let us have fewer ‘musts’ and more friendliness in this affair.” Orléans now put his arm about Florian. “Come, I will put off your arrest until the day after to-morrow; you shall spend the night here, my handsome pouting Florian; and you shall be liberated at the end of one little week in the Bastile.”