"Will Monsieur le Marquis do madame the honor to ascend to madame's bedroom?"
The Marquis, very much put out, did madame that honor.
Mme. de Châteauroux was dressed and lying back in a deep arm-chair. To accentuate her pallor and the fever-flush, she wore a négligé of red, and over her knees was thrown a velvet robe of the same color. In his first glimpse of her the minister noted all of this, and distinguished the affectation from the reality. He perceived his disadvantage, and began at once to calculate how far he might try her strength without inducing tears, before which he was as helpless as any man.
"Monsieur, I am charmed to behold you again."
"And I, madame, am desolated to find you not perfectly well."
There was a little pause. The Marquis anticipated being asked to sit down. Madame seemed to forget this courtesy. So, to his chagrin, Maurepas continued to stand, concealing his awkwardness and his ill-humor as best he might. At least the Duchess took no notice of his discomfort.
"Madame, his Majesty commanded my appearance before you. Doubtless there was a reason, of which, however, I am entirely ignorant. There was a hint on the King's part of a reconciliation necessary between us. I did not understand the use of the word. Have we, then, need for reconciliation?"
He spoke with a smile which annoyed madame, not for the first time. "Monsieur, last evening his Majesty was here to request my return to Versailles, and the resumption of my duties as lady of the palace of the Queen. This, on certain conditions, I am willing to do. You will, however, readily perceive how impossible it would be for me to return while at Versailles dwells the man who brought about my dismissal from Metz, in August. Do you not agree with me?"
"And if I do?" queried Maurepas, warily, doubtful of her point.
"If you do, monsieur! Will you, then, exile yourself on my arrival?"