ing a fine shower of stones into your garden."
"Yes, Sire, and he throws them so hard that some rebound into your own Park of Versailles."
Ah, ha! well answered, Duke; you are as quick of fence as if you were twenty still. Your discourse opens well, my lord Bishop; we will hear the rest of it on Sunday in Chapel; I promise you I will listen. Chauvelin, to ease your melancholy we will dispense with your attendance. Go wait for me in the Countess's apartments," he added beneath his breath. "She has just received her gold mirror, Rotiers' masterpiece. We must have a look at that."
"Sire, I would rather go to Grosbois."
"Enough, you grow tiresome, my friend; go to the Countess, she will exorcise your blue devils. Gentlemen, to mass! Egad! here's a day begun mighty ill. What a thing it is to be growing old!"
CHAPTER VI
MADAME DU BARRY'S MIRROR
THE Marquis was bound to obey the King and, much against his will, betook himself to the Favourite's apartments. He found that lady in a state of wild delight, dancing round the room like a child. The moment the Marquis de Chauvelin was announced, she ran to him, and without giving him time to utter a single word.
"Oh! my dear IIarquis, my dear Marquis," she cried, "I am so glad to see you. To-day I am the happiest woman in all the world! I have just had the most charming present anyone could receive! To begin with, Rotiers has sent me my mirror; that no doubt is what you have come to see, but we must wait for the King. There,—good fortunes, like misfortunes, never come single you know,—the famous coach has arrived too, the coach, you remember, that Monsieur d'Aiguillon is giving me."
"Ah! yes," said the Marquis, "the vis-a-vis everyone is talking about; he certainly owed you that much, Madame."
"Oh! I know they are talking about it; why, good Lord! I even know what they are saying."
"Really, you know everything!"
"Yes, pretty nearly; but, let me tell you, I don't care! Look, here are some lines I found this morning actually in the carriage pockets. I might have the poor coachbuilder put in prison; but there, that would be only worthy of Madame de Pompadour. I am too pleased to want to punish anybody. Besides, the verses are not at all bad, and if they always spoke as well of me, upon my word! I should not complain,"—and so saying, she handed the paper to Monsieur de Chauvelin.
The latter took it and read:
"Pourquoi ce brillant vis-à-vis?
Est cele char d'une déese,
Ou de quelque jeune princesse?
S'écriait un badaud surpris.
Non. . . . de lafoule curieuse
Lui répond un caustique, . . . non,
C'est le char de la blanchissense
De cet infâme d'Aiguillon!"[1]
And the hair-brained beauty burst into a peal of laughter, and presently observed:
"That infamous fellow d'Aiguillon, you hear that, gives his laundry-maid. My life! but the author is right, it is not saying too much; but for me, really and truly, the poor Duke, spite of the flour he was smothered with at the battle of . . . I can never remember the names of battles,—but for me the poor Duke would have still been black as night. Pooh! what care I? As my predecessor. Monsieur de Mazarin, used to say, 'they sing, and they sail pay'; I tell you my vis-à-vis is worth—any single one of its panels—more than all the epigrams written at me for the last four years. Now I am going to show it you. Come with me, Marquis, do."
Then the Countess, forgetting she was no longer Jeanne Vaubernier and equally heedless of the Marquis's age, sprang singing down the steps of a back staircase leading to a small courtyard in which were situated her stables.
"Look," she asked the Marquis, panting and out of breath, "is it handsome enough for a laundry-maid to ride in,think you?"
- ↑ "'Why this gorgeous vis-à-vis? Is it the car of a goddess or of some young princess?' cried a surprised spectator. 'Not it!' a critic from the gaping crowd replied; 'No! it is the car that infamous fellow d'Aiguillon gives his laundry-maid!'"
