From the Memoirs of a Minister of France | Page 5

excuses. After that it
was time to take leave, if we would sup at home and the King would
not be missed; and accordingly, but not without some further badinage,
in which Mademoiselle de Brut displayed wit equal to her beauty, and
an agreeable refinement not always found with either, we departed.
It should be clearly understood at this point, that, notwithstanding all I
have set down, I was fully determined (in accordance with a rule I have
constantly followed, and would enjoin on all who do not desire to find
themselves one day saddled with an ugly name) to have no part in the
affair; and this though the advantage of altering the King's intentions
towards Madame de Beaufort was never more vividly present to my
mind. As we rode, indeed, he put several questions concerning the
Baron, and his family, and connections; and, falling into a reverie, and
smiling a good deal at his thoughts, left me in no doubt as to the
impression made upon him. But being engaged at the time with the
Spanish treaty, and resolved, as I have said, to steer a course
uninfluenced by such intrigues, I did not let my mind dwell upon the
matter; nor gave it, indeed, a second thought until the next afternoon,
when, sitting at an open window of my lodging, I heard a voice in the
street ask where the Duchess de Beaufort had her apartment.
The voice struck a chord in my memory, and I looked out. The man
who had put the question, and who was now being directed on his
way--by Maignan, my equerry, as it chanced had his back to me, and I
could see only that he was young, shabbily dressed, and with the air of
a workman carried a small frail of tools on his shoulder. But presently,
in the act of thanking Maignan, he turned so that I saw his face, and
with that it flashed upon me in a moment who he was.
Accustomed to follow a train of thought quickly, and to act; on its
conclusion with energy, I had Maignan called and furnished with his
instructions before the man had gone twenty paces; and within the

minute I had the satisfaction of seeing the two return together. As they
passed under the window I heard my servant explaining with the
utmost naturalness that he had misunderstood the stranger, and that this
was Madame de Beaufort's; after which scarce a minute elapsed before
the door of my room opened, and he appeared ushering in young
Perrot!
Or so it seemed to me; and the start of surprise and consternation which
escaped the stranger when he first saw me confirmed me in the
impression. But a moment later I doubted; so natural was the posture
into which the man fell, and so stupid the look of inquiry which he
turned first on me and then on Maignan. As he stood before me,
shifting his feet and staring about him in vacant wonder, I began to
think that I had made a mistake; and, clearly, either I had done so or
this young man was possessed of talents and a power of controlling his
features beyond the ordinary. He unslung his tools, and saluting me
abjectly waited in silence. After a moment's thought, I asked him
peremptorily what was his errand with the Duchess de Beaufort.
"To show her a watch, your excellency," he stammered, his mouth open,
his eyes staring. I could detect no flaw in his acting.
"What are you, then?" I said.
"A clockmaker, my lord."
"Has Madame sent for you?"
"No, my lord," he stuttered, trembling.
"Do you want to sell her the watch?"
He muttered that he did; and that he meant no harm by it.
"Show it to me, then," I said curtly.
He grew red at that, and seemed for an instant not to understand. But on
my repeating the order he thrust his hand into his breast, and producing

a parcel began to unfasten it. This he did so slowly that I was soon for
thinking that there was no watch in it; but in the end he found one and
handed it to me.
"You did not make this," I said, opening it.
"No, my lord," he answered; "it is German, and old."
I saw that it was of excellent workmanship, and I was about to hand it
back to him, almost persuaded that I had made a mistake, when in a
second my doubts were solved. Engraved on the thick end of the egg,
and partly erased by wear, was a dog's head, which I knew to be the
crest of the Perrots.
"So," I said, preparing to return it to him, "you are a clockmaker?"
"Yes, your excellency," he muttered. And