And the duke, vastly pleased that the maternal lecture was at an end, leaped from the coach, and escorted his mother to the palace.
The royal family, with the nobles and dignitaries that were to witness the signing of the contract, were in the king's cabinet. The court awaited them in one of the magnificent rooms of state.
On a marble slab, supported by three gilded dolphins, lay a long roll of parchment, and close by was an inkstand of gold, set with sapphires and diamonds. The king was in an adjoining apartment, anxiously waiting the arrival of the Duchess of Orleans and the bridegroom-elect.
"Methinks," said Louis to monsieur, "that madame makes me wait."
As these words were uttered with great severity, the duke was abashed, and scarcely knew what he way saying. "Your majesty," stammered he, "you know how—may I entreat of you—"
"Her royal highness the Duchess of Orleans, and the Duke de
Chartres," cried the gentleman usher.
Louis rose from his arm-chair, and advanced to greet his eccentric sister-in-law. Suddenly he drew back, and looked like a Jupiter Tonans.
"Madame," said he, eying the duchess from head to foot—from her purple feathers to the very edge of her long purple-velvet train— "madame, what means this extraordinary attire? Have you forgotten, in one of your fits of absence, that you were invited, not to a funeral, but to a betrothal?"
"Sire," replied the undismayed duchess, "I am not subject to fits of absence; but I beg to apologize for my dress. It is appropriate to my feelings, for I have just experienced a most painful loss."
"What member of your family is dead?" asked his majesty.