Marie Antoinette smiled until the pearls encased within her coral lips dazzled the royal vision.
"How delightful!" said she. "I do not think that the Count de Provence will ever be invited to Trianon."
"Nor I," replied Louis.
"But the king will be asked so often, that he will certainly wish he were the Count de Provence. Still, he must promise not to come until he receives his invitation."
"I promise, beautiful chatelaine."
"And then to come whenever I invite him."
"That I can promise more safely than the other."
"Upon your royal word?"
"Upon my royal word. And thus I seal it with a kiss upon your fair hand."
"Upon my hand only, sire?" asked she, while she turned a cheek, whose hue was like the rosy lining of a sea-shell.