Page:Cerise, a tale of the last century (IA cerisetaleoflast00whytrich).pdf/104

 "At midnight the Dervish woke up to pray, and on the branch above his head he saw something flash and sparkle like the sun on the Sultan's scimitar at noonday. So he said, 'This is the gem for which my lord pineth. Lo! I will take the bird captive, and bring it with me to the feet of my lord.'

"Then the Dervish took the bird craftily with his hand, and though the fowl was beautiful, and the gem was precious, he kept neither of them for himself, but brought them both for his lord, to be the delight of the Sultan and the salvation of the land."

"And suppose the poor bird would rather have had her liberty," replied the Marquise. "It seems to me that in their dealings with men the birds get the worst of it from first to last."

"This bird was wise in her generation, as the goose that saved Rome," answered the Abbé; "but the bird I have in my thoughts wants only opportunity to soar her pitch, like the falcon, Queen of Earth and Air. Seriously, madame—look at the condition of our Sultan. I speak not of the young king, a weak and rickety boy, with all respect be it said, ill in bed at this very moment, perhaps never to leave his chamber alive. I mean the Regent, my kind patron, your devoted admirer—the true ruler of France. And look at the jewels in his casket. Do you think there is one that he prizes at the value of a worn-out glove?"

The subject possessed a certain degree of interest, trenching though it was upon very delicate ground.

"He has plenty to choose from, at any rate," observed the Marquise; "and I must say I cannot compliment him on the taste he has displayed in these valuables," she added, with a mischievous laugh.

"He would throw them all willingly into the Seine to-morrow," continued Malletort, "might he but possess the gem he covets, and set it in the Crown-royal of France. Yes, madame, the Crown-royal, I repeat it. Where are the obstacles? Louis XV. may not, will not, nay, perhaps, shall not live to be a man. Madame d'Orleans inherits the feeble constitution, without the beauty of her mother, Madame de Montespan. Fagon himself will tell you her life is not worth nine months' purchase, and since she has quarrelled