He uttered the last sentence more as a question than a statement.
Jost shifted one foot against the other uneasily.
“I am not so sure of that,” he said after a pause, during which he had drawn himself up, and had endeavoured to look conscientious; “You see I have the public to consider! Ministers may fall; statesmen may be thrown out of office; but the Press is the same yesterday, to-day, and for ever!”
“Except when a great Editor changes his opinions,” said Leroy tranquilly,—“Which is, of course, always a point of reason and conscience, as well as of—advantage! In the present case I think—but—shall we not enter the sanctum of which you have so obligingly opened the door? We can scarcely be too private when the King’s name is in question!”
Jost opened his furtive eyes in amazement.
“The King? What the devil has he to do with anything but his women and his amusements?”
A very close observer might have seen a curious expression flicker over Pasquin Leroy’s face at these words,—an expression half of laughter, half of scorn,—but it was slight and evanescent, and his reply was frigidly courteous.
“I really cannot inform you; but I am afraid his Majesty is departing somewhat from his customary routine! He is, in fact, taking an active, instead of a passive part in national affairs.”
“Then he must be warned off the ground!” said Jost irritably; “He is a Constitutional monarch, and must obey the laws of the Constitution.”
“Precisely!” And Leroy looked carefully at the end of his cigar; “But at present he appears to have an idea that the laws of the Constitution are being tampered with by certain other kings;—for example,—the kings of finance!”