The King blasphemed below his breath, and the minister smiled covertly.
"Precisely so, your Majesty. No, it is not bolt, bar, and stone walls to foment his passion that our young Count needs. On the contrary, it is space, time, other courts, other women, new comrades—in fine, a second case of d'Agenois—that will fit the amorous M. de Mailly. He—"
"Bravo, bravo, de Berryer! Excellent, by my faith! It is enough. Wait." Louis touched his bell, and a lackey appeared.
"More candles for the table."
Lights were brought and set before the minister, who drew from a drawer in the table some paper, quills, a sandbox, wax, and the small seal.
"Write!" commanded the King.
"And the delivery, Sire, shall take place—when?"
"To-morrow morning, in the chapel, after mass."
De Berryer frowned. "Your Majesty is a second Molière," he observed, politely.
Louis, holding a glass of Burgundy to the light, bowed thanks.