The House of de Mailly

by Margaret Horton Potter

"Sire, believe me—the—little difficulty began through no fault of mine, if through the fault of any one."

"Relate it to me."

Maurepas coughed. The situation was undeniably disagreeable, but an effort must be made. The less hesitation, at all events, the better. "Your Majesty, it had to do with a house, the Hôtel Maurepas, which three years ago was the Hôtel Mazarin, but fell to me at Mme. de Mazarin's death, thus obliging Mme. de la Tournelle to leave it on the demise of her grandmother. We are connected, you know, Sire."

For a moment or two the King remained silent, and his companion sat dreading an outbreak of displeasure. Presently, however, Louis remarked, without much expression: "Since her leaving the Hôtel de Mazarin was the occasion of her appearance at Versailles, one might imagine that madame would strive to modify her anger. Is that all the reason, monsieur?"

"Latterly, Sire, it has been intimated to me that madame thought me her opponent—a—politically. Need I assure your Majesty that my only political interest is yours, and that in so far as Mme. de Châteauroux has been essential to your good pleasure, in so far she has been esteemed by me. Unfortunately, however, it is whispered that madame believes me the instrument of her departure from Metz. This, indeed, is utterly false, I as—"

Louis, who was looking slightly amused, raised his hand: "Enough, Phélippeaux. I am aware of some things. We shall try, during the forthcoming week, to give you the opportunity of proving to madame your entire innocence in that regrettable affair. I wish you to become reconciled to madame, Phélippeaux, for, to be plain, I can do without neither of you."

Maurepas acknowledged this high compliment with some little pleasure; but, as the horses hurried forward, and silence fell between the two, the Marquis found himself at liberty to think some by no means agreeable thoughts. It was quite true that, even in former times, when there was no open rupture between them, love had never been lost between the King's minister and the favorite. Maurepas found his Court path very much smoother when the Duchess was not moving just ahead of him, and, despite his loyalty to the King's wishes, he had small desire that the King's well-beloved should return to Versailles. For that reason this present journey to the Tuileries, its object now becoming perfectly plain, began to assume a decidedly unpleasant appearance. Maurepas was well able to cope with the favorite in his own way; but his way was not that of the King. How, then, was he to gain his point, satisfy himself, and, at the same time, please that difficult pair, Marie Anne de Mailly and Louis de Bourbon, equally well, as he needs must?

During this soliloquy the royal coach passed the barrier and entered the dark streets of the city. After twenty minutes of silent and rapid driving, Louis touched his minister's arm.

"Look, Phélippeaux, there is the very house towards which, to-morrow, I take my way."

Whether by accident or by order, they were passing through the little Rue du Bac on their way from the bridge to the palace. Maurepas obediently leaned out of the window and gazed up at the narrow house now inhabited by the most celebrated woman in France. The lower story of the building was dark. The upper one was lighted brilliantly, in front.