idea strikes me," said Jean. "All has been kept quiet, and so the king does not know that we have a lady patroness to present my sister. Suppose you were at Versailles and expressed your willingness to act as social sponsor for my sister. Why, the king would accept one who is his relative, and that would prevent the Alognys complaining. The king could do no wrong."
"The king would do right about the suit," said Jeanne. "He would be delighted and he would be sure to say to Chancellor Maupeou: 'I want you to treat Lady Bearn properly, my lord!'"
"But this may look bad, when everybody thinks my case lost," objected the old countess.
"Well, let it be lost," returned the other lady quickly: "What matter, if you are compensated?"
"Two hundred thousand livres?" said the other with sorrow.
"Pooh, what if there be a royal present of a hundred thousand livres?"
"I have a son," remarked the victim, while the two eyed her greedily.
"So much the better, as he will be another servitor for the king; he must not have less than a cornetcy in the army," said Jean. "Any other kinsmen?"
"A nephew."
"We shall find a berth for him."
"We rely on your invention," said Countess Dubarry, rising. "You will allow me to mention your ladyship to the king?"
"Do me the honor," said the old dame with a sigh.
"No later than this evening," said the royal favorite. "I trust I have won your friendship?"
"Yes, though I believe I am in a dream."
But the dream only lasted to the foot of the stairs, where Countess Bearn was conducted on Jean's hale arm, for there the irrepressible Chon came bounding out of a sedan chair. Lady Bearn recognized the pretended daughter of Lawyer Flageot.
"It is Mistress Chon," roared Zamore.
"Is that little fool Gilbert here?" asked Chon of the footmen, when she suddenly looked up and saw Jean trying to hush her.
She followed the direction of his finger and perceived Lady Bearn. She gave a scream, lowered her cap-veil, and plunged into the vestibule.
Appearing to notice nothing, the old lady got into the carriage and gave her address to the coachman.
Chapter XX.
Annoyance And Amusement.
The king had been at Luciennes from three o'clock till dark, when, supremely wearied, he reposed on a sofa in a sitting-room, where Countess Dubarry surprised him about half-past ten.
Zamore was at the door when she woke him up.
"Have you come at last, countess?" he said.
"At last? I have been waiting for you this hour. How soundly your Majesty sleeps."
"I have slept three hours. But what do I see there?"
"That is the governor of Luciennes. The chancellor sent me the appointment, and so he donned the uniform. Swear him in quickly, and let him begin guarding us."
Zamore marched up, wearing a showy lace dress, with a sword. His huge three-cocked hat was under his arm. He went down on his knees, laid one hand on his heart, the other one was placed in the king's, and he said:
"Me swear faith and homage to my massa and missee; me will defend the castle placed under my guard to the last gasp, and me will not surrender it till the last can of jelly is eaten."
The sovereign laughed, less at the comic oath than at the black boy's gravity in taking it.
"In return for this pledge," he said with due seriousness, "I confer on you, Sir Governor, the sovereign right of dealing out justice to the extent of capital punishment over all in your hold, in earth, air, fire and water."
"Thankee, massa," said Zamore, rising.
"Now, run away into the servants hall and show your fine trappings."
As Zamore went out by one door, Chon came in by another. The king took her on his knee and kissed her.
"Good-evening, Chon. I like you because you tell me the truth. I want to know what has made your sister so late in hunting me up."
"No, Jeanne is the one to tell the truth. Still, if you will pay me for my report, I will show you that my police spies are up to the mark of Chief Sartines'."
"I have the pay ready," said the king, jingling some coins in his pocket. "No fibs."
"The Countess Dubarry went to her private residence in Valois Street, Paris, where Zamore met her about six o'clock. She went to speak with her sponsor."
"What, is she going to be baptized?"
"Her social sponsor—I do not know the right name for it."
"Say, the lady patroness. So you have fabricated one."
"Nay, she is ready made, and from away back. It is Countess Bearn, of the family of reigning princes. I guess she will not disgrace the line which is allied with the Royal Stuarts, the Dubarry-Moores."
"I never knew of any Countess Bearn but the one who lives by Verdun."
"The very one, who will call to-morrow at seven for a private audience. If the question will be allowed, she will ask when the introduction is to take place, and you will fix it shortly, eh, my Lord of France," said the countess.
The king laughed, but not frankly.
"To-morrow at eleven?"
"At our breakfast hour."
"Impossible, my darling, for I must away; I have important business with Sartines."
"Oh, if you cannot even stay supper——"
The king saw her make a sign to Chon, and suspecting a trap, he called for his horses to go. Delighted with this display of his free will, he walked to the door, but his gentlemen in waiting were not in the outer room. The castle was mute, even in its echoes to his call.
He ran and opened the window, but the courtyard was deserted. The tremulous moon shone on the river and lit up the calm night. This harmony was wasted on the king, who was far from poetic, artistic or musing, but rather material.
"Come, come, countess!" he broke forth in vexation; "put an end to this joke."
"Sire, I have no authority here," said the countess. "It is a royal residence, and the power is confided in the governor. And Governor Zamore is going the rounds with his guard of four men."
The king rather forced a smile.
"This is rather funny," he said. "But I want the horses put to my coach."
"The governor has locked them up in the stables for fear robbers might get at them. As for the escort, they are asleep, by orders of the governor, too."
"Then I will walk out of the castle alone."
"Hardly, for the gates are locked and the keys hang at the governor's belt."
"Pest on it! we have one castle strictly guarded!"
The countess lounged on a divan, playing with a rose, less red than her coral lips.
"But we might go in quest of him," she said, rising. "Chon, carry the light before his majesty."
The little procession of three had barely reached the end of the first hall before a whiff of delicious odor set the royal mouth watering.
"You smell supper, my lord," explained the countess. "I thought you were going to partake with me, and I had a feast prepared."
The king reflected that if he went on to Marly he would find nothing but a cold collation. Here, through a