do I, and I will tell you the true story."
"We listen," responded Choiseul. "For the prince is concerned in the affray, so far as it was on account of the dauphiness."
"The dauphiness and Jean Dubarry in some way connected?" questioned the king. "This is getting curious. Pray explain, my lord, and conceal nothing. Was it the princess who gave the swordthrust to Dubarry?"
"Not her highness, but one of the officers of her escort," replied Choiseul, as calm as ever.
"One whom you know?"
"No, sire; but your majesty ought to know him, if your majesty remembers all his old servants; for his father fought for you at Fontenoy, Philipsburg and Mahon—he is a Taverney Redcastle."
The dauphin mutely repeated the title to engrave it on his mind.
"Certainly, I know the Redcastles," returned Louis. "Why did he fight against Jean, whom I like—unless because I like him? Absurd jealousy, outbreaks of discontent, and partial sedition!"
"Does the defender of the royal princess deserve this reproach?" said the duke.
"I must say," said the prince, rising erect and folding his arms, "I am grateful to the young gentleman who risked his life for a lady who will shortly be my wife."
"What did he risk his life for?" queried the king.
"Because the Chevalier Jean in a hurry wanted to take the horses set aside by your majesty for the royal bride."
The king bit his lips and changed color, for the new way of presenting the case was again a menacing phantom.
"Yes, Chevalier Dubarry was putting the insult on the royal house of taking the reserved royal horses, when up came the Chevalier Redcastle, sent onward by her highness, and after much civil remonstrance——"
"Oh!" protested the king. "Civil—a military man?"
"It was so," interposed the dauphin. "I have been fully informed. Dubarry whipped out his sword——"
"Was he the first to draw?" demanded the king.
The prince blushed and looked to Choiseul for support.
"The fact is, the two crossed swords," the latter hastened to say, "one having insulted the lady, the other defending her and your majesty's property."
"But who was the aggressor, for Jean is mild as a lamb," said the monarch, glad that things were getting equalized.
"The officer must have been malapert."
"Impertinent to a man who was dragging away the horses reserved for your majesty's destined daughter?" exclaimed Choiseul. "Is this possible?"
"Hasty, anyway," said the king, as the dauphin stood pale without a word.
"A zealous servitor can never do wrong," remarked the duke, receding a step.
"Come, now, how did you get the news?" asked the king of his son, without losing sight of the minister, who was troubled by this abrupt question.
"I had an advice from one who was offended by the insult to the lady of my choice."
"Secret correspondence, eh?" exclaimed the sovereign. "Plots, plots! Here you are, beginning to worry me again, as in the days of Pompadour."
"No, this is only a secondary matter. Let the culprit be punished, and that will end the affair."
At the suggestion of punishment, Louis saw Jeanne furious and Chon up in arms.
"Punish, without hearing the case?" he said. "I have signed quite enough blank committals to jail. A pretty mess you are dragging me into, duke."
"But what a scandal, if the first outrage to the princess is allowed to go unpunished, sire."
"I entreat your majesty," said the dauphin.
"What, don't you think the sword cut was enough punishment?"
"No, sire, for he might have wounded Lieutenant Taverney. In that case I should have asked for his head."
"Nay," said the dauphin, "I only ask for his banishment."
"Exile, for an alehouse scuffle," said the king. "In spite of your philosophical notions, you are harsh, Louis. It is true that you are a mathematician, and such are hard as—well, they would sacrifice the world to have their ciphering come out correct."
"Sire, I am not angry with Chevalier Dubarry personally, but as he insulted the dauphiness."
"What a model husband!" sneered the king. "But I am not to be gulled in this way. I see that I am attacked under all these blinds. It is odd that you cannot let me live in my own way, but must hate all whom I like, and like all I dislike! Am I mad, or sane? Am I the master, or not!"
The prince went back to the clock. Choiseul bowed as before.
"No answer, eh? Why don't you say something? Do you want to worry me into the grave with your petty hints and strange silence, your paltry spites and minute dreads?"
"I do not hate Chevalier Dubarry," said the prince.
"I do not dread him," added Choiseul.
"You are both bad at heart," went on the sovereign, trying to be furious but only showing spite. "Do you want me to realize the fable with which my cousin of Prussia jeers me, that mine is the Court of King Petaud? No, I shall do nothing of the kind. I stand on my honor in my own style and will defend it similarly."
"Sire," said the prince with his inexhaustible meekness but eternal persistency, "your majesty's honor is not affected—it is the dignity of the royal princess which is struck at."
"Let Chevalier Jean make excuses, then, as he is free to do. But he is free to do the other thing."
"I warn your majesty that the affair will be talked of, if thus dropped," said the prime minister.
"Who cares? Do as I do. Let the public chatter, and heed them not—unless you like to laugh at them. I shall be deaf to all. The sooner they make such a noise as to deafen me, the sooner I shall cease to hear them. Think over what I say, for I am sick of this. I am going to Marly, where I can get a little quiet—if I am not followed out there. At least, I shall not meet your sister the Lady Louise there, for she has retired to the nunnery of St. Denis."
But the dauphin was not listening to this news of the breaking up of his family.
"It is going," he exclaimed in delight, real or feigned, as the clock resumed its regular tickings.
The minister frowned and bowed himself out backward from the hall, where the heir to the throne was left alone.
The king going into his study, paced it with long strides.
"I can clearly see that Choiseul is railing at me. The prince looks on himself as half the master, and believes he will be entirely so when he mounts with this Austrian on the throne. My daughter Louise loves me, but she preaches morality and she gives me the go-by to live in the nunnery. My three other girls sing songs against me and poor Jeanne. The Count of Provence is translating Lucretius. His brother of Artois is running wild about the streets. Decidedly none but this poor countess loves me. Devil take those who try to displease her!"
Sitting at the table where his father signed papers, his treaties and grandiloquent epistles, the son of the great king took up the pen.
"I understand why they are all hastening the arrival of the archduchess. But I am not going to be perturbed by her sooner than can be helped," and he wrote an order for Governor Stainville to stop three days at one city and three at another.
With the same pen he wrote:
"Dear Countess: This day we install Zamore in his new government. I am off for Marly, but I will come over to Luciennes this evening to tell you all I am thinking about at present. France."
"Lebel," he said to his confidential valet, "away with this to the countess, and my advice is for you to keep in her good graces."