From the Memoirs of a Minister of France | Page 4

it all now! I understand why I was
carried away to Marly! I--but it shall not be! I swear it shall not!"
Between him and me--for, needless to say, I, too, understood all --M.
de Perrot was awkwardly placed. But he showed the presence of mind
of the old courtier. "Silence, sir!" He exclaimed imperatively. "Do you
not see M. de Rosny? Go to him at once and pay your respects to him,
and request him to honour you with his protection. Or--I see that you
are overcome by the honour which the King does us. Go, first, and
change your dress. Go, boy!"
The lad retired sullenly, and M. de Perrot, free to deal with me alone,
approached me, smiling assiduously, and trying hard to hide some
consciousness and a little shame under a mask of cordiality. "A
thousand pardons, M. de Rosny," he cried with effusion, "for an
absence quite unpardonable. But I so little expected to see his Majesty
after what you said, and--"
"Are in no hurry to interrupt him now you are here," I replied bluntly,
determined that, whoever he deceived, he should not flatter himself he
deceived me. "Pooh, man! I am not a fool," I continued.
"What is this?" he cried, with a desperate attempt to keep up the farce.
"I don't understand you!"
"No, the shoe is on the other foot--I understand you," I replied drily.
"Chut, man!" I continued, "you don't make a cats-paw of me. I see the

game. You are for sitting in Madame de Sourdis' seat, and giving your
son a Hat, and your groom a Comptrollership, and your niece a--"
"Hush, hush, M. de Rosny," he muttered, turning white and red, and
wiping his brow with his kerchief. "MON DIEU! your words might--"
"If overheard, make things very unpleasant for M. de Perrot," I said.
"And M. de Rosny?"
I shrugged my shoulders contemptuously. "Tush, man!" I said. "Do you
think that I sit in no safer seat than that?"
"Ah! But when Madame de Beaufort is Queen?" he said slily.
"If she ever is," I replied, affecting greater confidence than I at that
time felt.
"Well, to be sure," he said slowly, "if she ever is." And he looked
towards the King and his companion, who were still chatting gaily.
Then he stole a crafty glance at me. "Do you wish her to be?" he
muttered.
"Queen?" I said, "God forbid!"
"It would be a disgrace to France?" he whispered; and he laid his hand
on my arm, and looked eagerly into my face.
"Yes," I said.
"A blot on his fame?"
I nodded.
"A--a slur on a score of noble families?"
I could not deny it.
"Then--is it not worth while to avoid all that?" he murmured, his face

pale, and his small eyes glued to mine. "Is it not worth a little--sacrifice,
M. de Rosny?"
"And risk?" I said. "Possibly."
While the words were still on my lips, something stirred close to us,
behind the yew hedge beside which we were standing. Perrot darted in
a moment to the opening, and I after him. We were just in time to catch
a glimpse of a figure disappearing round the corner of the house.
"Well," I said grimly, "what about being overheard now?"
M. de Perrot wiped his face. "Thank Heaven!" he said, "it was only my
son. Now let me explain to you--"
But our hasty movement had caught the King's eye, and he came
towards us, covering himself as he approached. I had now an
opportunity of learning whether the girl was, in fact, as innocent as she
seemed, and as every particular of our reception had declared her; and I
watched her closely when Perrot's mode of address betrayed the King's
identity. Suffice it that the vivid blush which on the instant suffused her
face, and the lively emotion which almost overcame her, left me in no
doubt. With a charming air of bashfulness, and just so much timid
awkwardness as rendered her doubly bewitching, she tried to kneel and
kiss the King's hand. He would not permit this, however, but saluted
her cheek.
"It seems that you were right, sire," she murmured, curtseying in a
pretty confusion, "The princess was not awake."
Henry laughed gaily. "Come now; tell me frankly, Mademoiselle," he
said. "For whom did you take me?"
"Not for the King, sire," she answered, with a gleam of roguishness.
"You told me that the King was a good man, whose benevolent
impulses were constantly checked--"
"Ah!"

"By M. de Rosny, his Minister."
The outburst of laughter which greeted this apprised her that she was
again at fault; and Henry, who liked nothing better than such
mystifications, introducing me by my proper name, we diverted
ourselves for some minutes with her alarm and