"Oh—that is a cold toast indeed. See, I will do better." He lifted his glass. "I drink to Deborah de Mailly, lady of the palace of the Queen, and beloved comrade of his Gracious Majesty the Fifteenth Louis of France. Eh, little one, is it not better?"
"Lady of the palace of the Queen," repeated Deborah, slowly, her large eyes fixed upon the King's face.
"Yes, I have said it. Your appointment is here," he replied, tapping the breast of his coat. "Now tell me what else there is in the world that you wish for. Ah—there is something, I know. Estates—money—servants—what will you have, my little one?"
Deborah shivered with cold. She realized the situation now, and the nerves beneath her flesh were quivering. Pulling herself together with a strong mental effort, she sat up, rigid and stiff, before her untouched food. Her mind was quite clear, her path well defined.
"What is it that you want? I read desire in your eyes," repeated the King, thinking to win his suit more easily than he had at first believed.
"No, no. There is nothing. I—thank your Majesty for your kindness. There is nothing that I want. Indeed, indeed, there is nothing."
"Happiest of humankind! To want nothing! Yet there is something that I desire. I, King of France, am not like you. Can you guess, Deborah, what it is that I long for more than I wanted my crown?"
"Another rissole, Sire, I think."
He was put out, and yet there was a little twinkle in her eyes that became her wonderfully, and seemed, too, to give him hope. After an instant he felt that anger was unnecessary, and thus recovered his ardent dignity as best he could. "I beg of you—be serious. Since you will name for me nothing that you wish, I will at least tell you in what you are lacking. When you hear these things—desire will be born. Madame—read this."
From his coat Louis took a broad paper, folded and royally sealed. Deborah, her face troubled and her hands shaking slightly, rose to receive it, and, after a moment of hesitation, at a most impatient nod from the King, broke the seals, and found the inside of the document covered with the neat, legible writing of Maurepas. She glanced quickly over its lines: