to make me young again, he is upon my word!
"Bah! sire," put in Chon, "what ails your Majesty to be always talking about growing old? 'Od's life! Your Majesty is the same age as everybody else, I suppose."
"Come now! " cried the King gleefully, "now you talk like that scamp D'Aumont. I regretted to him the other day I had no teeth left, and he answered, showing me as fine a set of grinders as ever a market-porter had, "Why, good Lord, Sire, who has any teeth nowadays?"
"I have," broke in the Countess, "and what's more, I tell you I will bite you,—bite you till the blood comes,—if you go on sacrificing me like this to everybody."
So saying, she came and sat close to the King, showing him a row of pearls that plainly belied her threatening words. Thereupon the Monarch, braving all risks, put his own to the Conutess's rosy lips. The latter nodded to Chon, who picked up the fragments of the two broken ornaments.
"Good!" murmured the girl, "all that falls in the trenches is the soldier's."
Then after casting a parting look at the King and Countess. "Undoubtedly," she said to herself, "Bordeu is a great man; I do think he is,"—and she slipped out of the room, leaving her sister fairly on the road to a reconciliation.
The same evening at six o'clock play began at the King's tables. Monsieur Chauvelin had kept his promise and was one of the first to arrive. The Countess also was there in the fullest of full dress, because she knew the Dauphine was to be present. Marquis and Countess met and greeted one another with the utmost amiability.
"Gracious God! Monsieur de Chauvelin," exclaimed the Countess with one of those double-edged smiles courtiers know so well how to assume," how red you are in the face! One might think you were going to have a fit of apoplexy. Marquis, Marquis, consult Bordeu; Bordeu is your only hope."
Then looking at the King with a smile to drive a Pope into mortal sin, she added, "Ask the King if it is not so."
Monsieur de Chauvelin bowed and answered, "I will not fail to follow your advice, Madame."
"You will only be doing what a loyal subject should," she returned " "you are bound to be very careful of your health, my dear Marquis, as you are to be only two month's before . . . . "
"I only wish it were the other way and I had to precede you," put in the King; "you would be sure of a hundred years of life then, Chauvelin. Well, I can only repeat the Countess's good counsel,—go to Bordeu, old friend, go to Bordeu."
"Sire, whatsoever the hour destined for my death,—and God alone knows the hour of every man's death,—I have promised the King to die at his feet."
"Nonsense, Chauvelin; there are some promises people make and don't keep; ask these ladies if it is not so. But if you are so melancholy as all this, dear friend, we shall all be dying of the dismals only to look at you. Come, Chauvelin, are we to play to-night? "
"As your Majesty pleases."
"Do you care to win a game of ombre from me?"
"I am at the King's orders,"—and thereupon the Court took their places for play. Monsieur de Chauvelin and the King sat down facing each other at a special table.
"Now, Chauvelin, look out," cried the King heartily, " and be careful how you play; you may be ill, but I have never felt better. 1 am in the highest of high spirits. Hold tight to your money, whatever you do; I have a mirror to pay for to Rottiers, and a diamond spray to Boehmer."
Madame du Barry compressed her lips significantly at the words. Instead of answering, however, the Marquis rose painfully from his chair, muttering, "It is very hot. Sire."
"True," replied the King, instead of being annoyed, as Louis XIV. would have been, at this breach of the laws of etiquette; he got over the difficulty by adroitly applying the remark to himself; "yes, Chauvelin, it is very hot, and I am glad of it, for often in April the evenings are chilly."
The Marquis forced a smile, and gathered up his cards with a painful effort.
"Come, you are ombre, Chauvelin."
"Yes, Sire," stammered the Marquis, bowing over the table.
