"Excellent! Now, Sire, let's see the result."
The King took the two oranges and plied shuttle with them above his head. But at the third pass, the two rolled down upon the embroidered carpet, and the Marchioness broke out into a merry fit of laughter.
"I foresaw as much," exclaimed his Majesty. "What a clumsy fellow I am!"
"And we more puzzled than ever, Sire?"
"So we are, Marchioness; but the best thing we can do, is to slice the oranges, sugar them well, and season them with a dash of West India rum. Then you can beg me to taste them, and offer me some of those preserved cherries and peaches that you put up just as nicely as my daughter Adelaide."
"And Monsieur de Menneval? and Monsieur de Beaugency?" said the Marchioness, in piteous accents. "How is the question to be settled?"
Louis XV. began to cogitate.
"Are you quite sure," said he, "that both of them are in love with you?"
"Probably so," returned she, with a little coquettish smile, sent back to her from the mirror opposite.
"And their love is equally strong?"