“Sire,” said he to his Majesty, “your town of Paris has a greater reputation than it actually deserves. They say you are fond of building; then Paris ought to have occasion to remember your reign. Allow me to express a hope that her principal streets will be widened, that her temples, most of them of real beauty, may be isolated. You should add to the number of her bridges, quays, public baths, almshouses and infirmaries.”
The King smiled. “Come and see us in four or five years,” he rejoined, “or before that, if you like, and if your affairs permit you to do so. You will be pleased to see what I have already done.”
Then the bailiff, approaching my carriage window, addressed a few complimentary remarks to myself.
“I have often met your father, M. de Mortemart,” said he, “at President Tambonneaux’s. One day the little De Bouillons were there, quarrelling about his sword, and to the younger he said, ‘You, sir, shall go into the Church, because you squint. Let my sword alone; here’s my rosary.’”
“Well,” quoth the King, “M. de Mortemart was a true prophet, for that little Bouillon fellow is to-day Cardinal de Bouillon.”
“Sire,” continued the worthy German, “I am rejoiced to hear such news. And little Peguilain de Lauzun, of whom you used to be so fond when you were both boys,—where is he? What rank does he now hold?”
Hereupon the King looked at Mademoiselle, who, greatly confused, shed tears.
“Well, M. Bailiff,” said his Majesty, “did you easily recognise me at first sight?”
“Sire,” replied the German, “your physiognomy is precisely the same; when a boy, you looked more serious. The day you entered Parliament in hunting-dress I saw you get into your coach; and that evening the President said to his wife, ‘Madame, we are going to have a King. I wish you could have been there, in one of the domes, just to hear the little he said to us.’”
Whereupon the King laughingly inquired what reply the President’s wife made. But the bailiff, smiling in his turn, seemed afraid to repeat it, and so his Majesty said: