As he spoke, Eugene's large eyes looked courageously around, to read the countenances of the men that were listening. Whatever they might think of the mother, the chivalry of her son was indisputable, and no one was disposed to wound his filial piety by so much as a supercilious glance.
The silence that ensued was broken by La Fontaine. "Did you know," said he, "that Madame de Coulanges had been summoned to trial yesterday?"
"Yes," replied the duchess, "but I have not heard the result. Can you tell it to us, my dear La Fontaine?"
"I can. The judges paid her a compliment which I am sure she has not received from anybody else, since the days of her childhood."
"What was it!"
"They gave in a verdict of—innocent."
A hearty laugh followed this satire of La Fontaine's, and the duchess indulged in so much mirth thereat, that her eyes sparkled like the brilliants on her person, and her cheeks flushed until they rivalled the deepest hues of her pink dress.
"Ah!" cried La Fontaine, bending the knee before her, "La mere des amours, et la reine des graces, c'est Bouillon, et Venus lui cede ses emplois." [Footnote: La Fontaine's "Letters to the Duchess de Bouillon," p. 49.]
"Go on, go on, fabulist!" cried Marianna, laughing.
La Fontaine continued: