She interrupted with the slightest sparkle of malice in her tone—
“You call me in when you have failed—what would M. de Louvois say?”
M. de Pomponne answered in a vexed tone—
“I wish M. de Louvois was here doing my work and I at Versailles doing his, for, Mon Dieu! one might as well be sent on an embassy to the fishes as be asked to come into exile here where one’s health is ruined by damp, one’s temper by Leyden Logic—where the only amusement is the contemplation of Dutch virtue.”
“It is the virtue that is the difficulty,” smiled Madame Lavalette. “They are a quite impossible people—that is why, Monsieur, I am going to Spain—but you——?”
“I!” he answered impatiently. “It is like trying to negotiate with a lot of frogs, cold and stupid. When you have got through their formalities they start on their religion, and when they have finished with that they freeze into a silence——”
“That you want me to endeavour to break?”
“I should be your debtor for life, Madame.”
She raised her brows.
“But, my friend, what do you think I can do?”