“You mean Madame Lavalette?”
“Yes, Monseigneur.”
“She is leaving for Spain in another week.” M. de Pomponne tapped his fine fingers on the table. “Besides—Mon Dieu, one has no chance.”
“There is the ball at the Binnenhof, on Friday, Monsieur.”
“It is not known if the Prince goes.”
“Van Mander told me—yes.”
“I wonder why?—I think he does nothing without a reason.”
“To show himself—to speak to the Deputies.”
The Marquis looked over his shoulder at the impassive figure of Madame Lavalette over her chess problem.
“He is a boy, Monsieur; in some things utterly untried.”