“What! you did not receive two letters last year, which invited you to make up your mind and retire!”
“I received two anonymous letters; nothing is more true. Could those two letters have been sent to me by the King himself?”
“The Marquis de Chamarante wrote them to you, but beneath the eyes, and at the dictation, of his Majesty.”
“All, God! What is it you tell me? What! the Marquis de Chamarante, whom I thought one of my friends, has lent himself to such an embassy!”
“The Marquis is a good man, a man of honour; and his essential duty is to please his sovereign, his master. Moreover, at the time when the letters were sent you, time remained to you for deliberation. To-day, all time for delay has expired; you must go away of your own free will, or receive the affront of a command, and a ‘lettre de cachet’ in form.”
“A ‘lettre de cachet’ for me! for the mother of the Duc du Maine and the Comte de Toulouse! We shall see that, my brother! We shall see!”
“There is nothing to see or do but to summon here all your people, and leave to-morrow, either for my chateau of Roissy, or for your palace at Petit-Bourg; things are pressing, and the day after to-morrow I will explain all without any secrecy.”
“Explain it to me at once, my brother, and I promise to satisfy you.”
“Do you give me your word?”
“I give it you, my good and dear friend, with pleasure. Inform me of what is in progress.”