A little later a porter entered with newspapers. Fandor seized them eagerly, but after a single glance he could not repress a movement of impatience.
"These idiots," he growled to himself, "always bring me the Hesse-Weimar papers, and I don't know a confounded word of German. What I would like to get hold of is a copy of La Capitale."
He rang the bell intending to give the order for a copy to be sent up, but at that moment a servant announced:
"Mlle. Marie Pascal is here, your Majesty."
"What does she want?"
The servant handed Fandor a letter.
"Your Majesty has granted an interview to her."
Without thinking the journalist asked: "Is she pretty?"
The employé of the Royal Palace kept a straight face. He was too much in the habit of dealing with royal patrons. The King might joke as much as he pleased, but the same liberty was not granted to others. He therefore made a deep bow and said with a tone of profound deference:
"I will send Marie Pascal to your Majesty."