Page:Dumas - Tales of Strange adventure (Methuen, 1907).djvu/32

20 cried the King, turning his back on the Duc de Coigny; "not content with being gloomy as tombstones to-day, they must be as stupid as owls into the bargain."

The Duc d'Ayen, one of the wittiest men of that witty age, saw the King's growing ill-humour, and fearing to feel some of the effects of it himself, he determined to put an end to it as soon as might be, and stepped two paces forward to bring his presence to the King's notice. He wore on waistcoat, gaiters and coat gold embroideries so large and splendid they could not fail to attract attention. The King soon noticed him, and cried:

"Why, upon my word, Duke, you shine like the sun. What, have you robbed a coach? I thought all the broiderers in Paris were ruined since the Comte de Provence's marriage, when never a Courtier paid them and the Princes deemed it best not to come,—for want of money, or want of credit, no doubt."

"So they are all ruined, Sire."

"Who? the Princes, the broiderers, or the Courtiers."

"Why, all of them, I think, more or less. But the broiderers are the cleverest; they will get out of their difficulties."

"How?"

"By the new invention you see here,"—and he pointed to his finery.

"I don't understand."

"Yes, Sire, these clothes embroidered like this are called à la chancellière."

"I am as much in the dark as ever."

"There is only one way to make your Majesty understand the riddle; that would be to quote the verses these scamps of Parisians have made, but I dare not do that."

"You dare not, you, Duke," laughed the King.

"My word! no, Sire; unless I have the King's express orders."

"You have them."

"Your Majesty will at any rate remember that I am only obeying orders. Well, here are the lines:

The Courtiers looked at each other, astounded at such audacity, then all turned with one accord towards Louis XV. in order to mould the expression of their faces on his. The Chancellor Maupeou, then at the height of his favour and supported by the King's favourite mistress, was too lofty a personage for men to dare listen to the epigrams which were constantly being directed against him. The Monarch smiled, after that all lips smiled; he made no reply, so no one said a word either.

Louis XV. was strangely constituted. He was horribly afraid of death, and forbid any mention of his own. At the same time he found a curious pleasure in seizing every opportunity of jeering at the foible almost all people have for hiding their age and infirmities. He loved to tell a Courtier:

"You are getting an old man, you look wretched and ill, your time will soon be here."

He made a system of it, and this very day when he had already received two crushing blows, he deliberately exposed himself to the risk of a third. By way of renewing the interrupted conversation with the Duc d'Ayen, he asked him suddenly:

"How is the Chevalier de Noailles? is it true he is sick?"

"Sire, we had the calamity to lose him yesterday."

"Ah! I told him what was coming."

Then staring round the ranks of courtiers, now swollen by the advent of those admitted only to the petite entreé, he caught sight of the Abbé de Broglio, a harsh, rough, crabbed character, and addressed him thus:

"Your turn next. Abbé; you were just two days his junior."

"Sire," retorted Monsieur de Broglio, white with anger, "Your Majesty was out a-hunting yesterday. A storm of rain came on, and the King got wet just like the rest,"—and pushing his way through the crowd he went away in a rage.

The King watched his departure with mournful eyes, adding:

"You see how he is, that Abbé de Broglio,—always losing his temper."

Next, noticing at the door his physician Bounard, and with him Bordeu, a protege of Madame du Barry and an aspirant to his colleague's post, he called them both to his side.