He looked at her sharply, and she returned the glance with one that he could not read. "The first—d'Agenois—pouf! You may have him. He wearies me inexpressibly," she said, after a pause. "But Maurepas— Besides, I have not yet signified a wish to return to Versailles. A month ago I wrote to Richelieu that I never should."
"Really! To Richelieu! And what was his reply?"
"Nothing. He did not reply."
"A pity. Well then—you refuse to come back?"
"No. That is, I would not refuse, but that—I am not fond of M. de Maurepas."
She had carried her stubborn insolence too far at last. The King frowned, threw away his egg, and marched steadily over to where he had thrown his hat and cloak. "It is as well. I gave you your choice, madame. Maurepas is no Comtesse de Mailly. Neither you nor any woman can drive him from my court."
At the tone of Louis' voice madame's heart had suddenly ceased to beat. She saw her mistake. Was it too late? No. On the threshold of the doorway the King, after a hesitation and struggle with himself, turned. She seized her final opportunity without a pause. Holding out her arms with exaggerated feebleness, she said, slowly:
"Send Phélippeaux to me to-morrow. He shall plead his cause."
And thus her danger must have ended, and Louis' point have been satisfactorily gained; for it was past midnight when France left the Rue du Bac, to proceed by chair to the Tuileries. "Maurepas will be with you at noon; and may the god of friendship preside at the meeting!" were his parting words to the Duchess, who nodded and smiled her approval. Then, while Fouchelet and the second valet cleared the remains of the feast from the little, disordered table, the mistress of Versailles, pale, burning with fever, and exhausted with fatigue, every nerve quivering with excitement at the life reopening to her, dragged herself to her bedroom, where Mme. de Lauraguais and the round-eyed maid awaited her arrival.
On Thursday morning, which was the 25th of November, the King broke fast with Maurepas at his usual hour. Louis was sleepy, and slightly, very slightly, inclined to be sharp of temper. When he informed his companion of the impending visit for that day's noon, Maurepas made no objection in words or manner. Nevertheless, he was intensely displeased. He knew very well his master's ways, and he realized that the tone in which he was bidden to come to a full and cordial understanding with her Grace was not to be disregarded. Therefore, at five minutes to twelve, with official punctuality, M. Jean Frédéric Phélippeaux, Marquis de Maurepas, carefully but not elaborately garbed, arrived in his chair at the hôtel in the Rue du Bac. He was admitted there without delay, and Fouchelet's answer to the suave inquiry for Mme. de Châteauroux was: