The duchess was singing out this doggerel in a rough, loud contralto, when her chamberlain appeared at the door, and announced that his royal highness was waiting for her to descend.
"Tell monsieur not to let me detain him," replied she. "I will be escorted to the Louvre by the Duke de Chartres. Hey, Kathi! come with my wrappings!"
Kathi had just enveloped her highness's stout, robust form in a cloak of purple velvet, when the little duke came skipping into the room.
"Here I am, chere maman," cried he; "here is Cupid, ready to attend on Venus."
The duchess replied with a glance of displeasure, and took his arm. As they were crossing the corridor, she said: "Cupid was a fractious and rebellious boy, and I remember that Venus had many a time to box his ears for his misbehavior. You are quite right to liken yourself to Cupid, for you are just as contrary as he—"
"And just as handsome?" asked the duke, coaxingly.
The duchess tried to suppress a smile. "You are a little puppy," said she; "and if I resemble Venus in no other way, I shall imitate her maternal corrections, and let you feel the weight of my hand, if you provoke me, sir." And so saying, she tumbled herself into the coach.
"I have already felt its weight," sighed the young duke, "and a right heavy hand it is, when it is lifted to chastise."
"Then take care not to deserve its chastisements. But now, Philip, listen to me, and be serious. It is understood between us, that you refuse to sign the contract—that you avow loudly your aversion to marriage in general, and to Mademoiselle de Blois in particular; and that you throw yourself at the feet of the king, and ask for two years' delay."
"Oh, yes, maman, yes, of course," replied Philip, hurriedly. "I understand it all perfectly. Ah, here we are at the Louvre! Allow me to assist you to alight."