“I wished so also,” he said quietly. “But you see for yourself, Monseigneur, that my health would not permit.”
The Maréchal seemed unable to find words.
Luc leant forward and narrowed his weak eyes.
“Have you come to offer me patronage, Monsieur?” he asked.
The Duke answered with a noble air—
“It would not be possible for anyone to offer M. de Vauvenargues patronage. I heard from M. de Voltaire that you were here, and I came to be instructed in philosophy.”
“A Maréchal de France comes to be instructed in philosophy in a garret!” smiled Luc; “and from one with whom he discovered long since that he had nothing in common!”
The Duke looked down at his open hand, that he lightly struck with his gauntlet, which was heavily embroidered with wreaths of roses, of gold ribbon, and of violets.
“We have something in common,” he said—“Madame la Comtesse Koklinska.”
Luc rose and leant against the mean mantelshelf.