Luc turned his head towards him.
“I can scarcely see you at all,” he said serenely. “I only see something gold and purple. I am, Monsieur, half blind.”
The Duke stared at him.
“If I was stricken like you, I would fall on my sword!” he exclaimed impulsively.
“Each has his own courage,” replied Luc.
“How long will you stay here?” asked the Maréchal abruptly.
“Until I die, Monsieur.”
“By Heaven, no. Come to the Hôtel d’Antin. You are a great man. Since I am growing old I need a philosopher at my side, and—I always liked you, Luc de Vauvenargues.”
The Marquis rose.
“I suppose it was you who obtained me the Spanish appointment after all?” he asked suddenly.