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Marie Antoinette Romances, Vol 1: Balsamo, The Magician

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<h2>CHAPTER XLII. THE KING'S NEW AMOUR.</h2> This same long night had been employed by Countess Dubarry in trying to mold the king's mind to a new policy according to her views. Above all she had dwelt upon the necessity of not letting the Choiseul party win possession of the dauphiness. The king had answered carelessly that the princess was a girl and Choiseul an old statesman, so that there was no danger, since one only wanted to sport and the other to labor. Enchanted at what he thought a witticism, he cut short further dry talk. But Jeanne did not stay stopped, for she fancied the royal lover was thinking of another. He was fickle. His great pleasure was in making his lady-loves jealous, as long as they did not sulk too long or become too riotous in their jealous fits. Jeanne Dubarry was jealous naturally, and from fear of a fall. Her position had cost her too much pains to conquer and was too far from the starting-point for her to tolerate rivals as Lady Pompadour had done. Hence she wanted to know what was on the royal mind. He answered by these memorable words, of which he did not mean a jot: "I intend to make my daughter-in-law very happy and I am afraid that my son will not make her so." "Why not, sire?" "Because he looks at other women a good deal, and very seldom at her." "If any but your majesty said that, I should disbelieve them, for the archduchess is sweetly pretty." "She might be rounded out more; that Mademoiselle de Taverney is the same age and she has a finer figure. She is perfectly lovely." Fire flashed in the favorite's eyes and warned the speaker of his blunder. "Why, I wager that you were plump as Watteau's shepherdesses at sixteen," said he quickly, which adulation improved matters a little, but the mischief was done. "Humph," said she, bridling up under the pleased smile, "is the young lady of the Taverney family so very, very fair?" "I only noticed that she was not a bag of bones. You know I am short-sighted and the general outline alone strikes me. I saw that the new-comer from Austria was not plump, that is all." "Yes, you must only see generally, for the Austrian is a stylish beauty, and the provincial lady a vulgar one." "According to this, Jeanne, you would be the vulgar kind," said the monarch. "You are joking, I think." "That is a compliment, but it is wrapped up in a compliment to another," thought the favorite, and aloud she said: "Faith, I should like the dauphiness to choose a bevy of beauties for maids of honor. A court of old tabbies is frightful." "You are talking over one won to your side, for I was saying the same thing to the dauphin; but he is indifferent." "However, she begins well, you think, to take this Taverney girl. She has no money?" "No, but she has blood. The Taverney Redcastles are a good old house and long-time servants of the realm." "Who is backing them?" "Not the Choiseuls, for they would be overfeasted with pensions in that case." "I beg you not to bring in politics, countess!" "Is it bringing in politics to say the Choiseuls are blood-sucking the realm?" "Certainly." And he arose. An hour after he regained the Grand Trianon palace, happy at having inspired jealousy, though he said to himself, as a Richelieu might do at thirty: "What a bother these jealous women are!" Dubarry went into her boudoir, where Chon was impatiently waiting for the news. "You are having fine success," she exclaimed; "day before yesterday presented to the dauphiness, you dined at her table yesterday." "That's so—but much good in such nonsense." "Nonsense, when a hundred fashionable carriages are racing to bring you courtiers?" "I am vexed, sorry for them, as they will not have any smiles from me this morning. Let me have my chocolate." "Stormy weather, eh?" Chon rang and Zamore came in to get the order. He started off so slowly, and humping up his back, that the mistress cried: "Is that slowcoach going to make me perish of hunger? If he plays the camel and does not hurry, he'll get a hundred lashes on his back." "Me no hurry—me gubbernor," replied the black boy, majestically. "You a governor?" screamed the lady, flourishing a fancy riding whip kept to maintain order among the spaniels. "I'll give you a lesson in governing." But the negro ran out yelling. "You are quite ferocious, Jeanne," remarked her sister. "Surely I have the right to be ferocious in my own house?" "Certainly; but I am going to elope, for fear I may be devoured alive." Three knocks on the door came to interrupt the outbreak. "Hang it all—who is bothering now?" cried the countess, stamping her foot. "He is in for a nice welcome," muttered Chon. "It will be a good thing if I am badly received," said Jean, as he pushed open the door as widely as though he were a king, "for then I should take myself off and not come again. And you would be the greater loser of the two." "Saucebox——" "Because I am not a flatterer. What is the matter with the girl this morning, Chon?" "She is not safe to go near." "Oh, here comes the chocolate! Good-morning, Chocolate," said the favorite's brother, taking the platter and putting it on a small table, at which he seated himself. "Come and tuck it in, Chon! those who are too proud won't get any, that's all." "You are a nice pair," said Jeanne, "gobbling up the bread and butter instead of wondering what worries me." "Out of cash, I suppose?" said Chon. "Pooh, the king will run out before I do." "Then lend me a thousand—I can do with it," said the man. "You will get a thousand fillips on the nose sooner than a thousand Louis." "Is the king going to keep that abominable Choiseul?" questioned Chon. "That is no novelty—you know that they are sticks-in-the-mud." "Has the old boy fallen in love with the dauphiness?" "You are getting warm; but look at the glutton, ready to burst with swilling chocolate and will not lift a finger to help me out of my quandary." "You never mean to say the king has another fancy?" cried Chon, clasping her hands, and turning pale. "If I did not say so your brother would, for he will either choke with the chocolate or get it out." Thus adjured, Jean managed to gasp the name: "Andrea of Taverney!" "The baron's daughter—oh, mercy!" groaned Chon. "I do not know what keeps me from tearing his eyes out, the lazybones, to go puffing them up with sleep when our fortunes stagger." "With want of sleep you mean," returned Jean. "I am sleepy, as I am hungry, for the same reason—I have been running about the streets all night." "Just like you." "And all the morning." "You might have run to some purpose, and found out where that intriguing jade is housed." "The very thing—I questioned the driver of the carriage lent to them, and he took them to Coq Heron street. They are living in a little house at the back, next door to Armenonville House." "Jean, Jean, we are good friends again," said the countess. "Gorge as you like. But we must have all the particulars about her, how she lives, who calls on her, and what she is about. Does she get any love letters—these are important to know." "I have got us started on the right road anyway," said Jean; "suppose you do a little now." "Well," suggested Chon, "there must be rooms to let in that street." "Excellent idea," said the countess. "You must be off quickly to the place, Jean, and hire a flat there, where a watcher can mark down all her doings." "No use; there are no rooms to hire there; I inquired; but I can get what we want in the street at the back, overlooking their place, Plastrière Street." "Well, quick! get a room there." "I have done that," answered Jean. "Admirable fellow—come, let me buss thee!" exclaimed the royal favorite. Jean wiped his mouth, received the caress and made a ceremonious bow to show that he was duly grateful for the honor. "I took the little suite for a young widow. Young widow, you, Chon." "Capital! it shall be Chon who will take the lodgings and keep an eye on what goes on. But you must not lose any time. The coach," cried Dubarry, ringing the bell so loudly that she would have roused all the spellbound servants of the palace of the Sleeping Beauty. The three knew how highly to rate Andrea, for at her first sight she had excited the king's attention; hence she was dangerous. "This girl," said the countess while the carriage was being got ready; "cannot be a true country wench if she has not made some sweetheart follow her to Paris. Let us hunt up this chap and get her married to him offhand. Nothing would so **** off the king as rustic lovers getting wedded." "I do not know so much about that," said Jean. "Let us be distrustful. His most Christian majesty is greedy for what is another's property." Chon departed in the coach, with Jean's promise that he would be her first visitor in the new lodgings. She was in luck, for she had hardly more than taken possession of the rooms, and gone to look out of the window commanding a view of the rear gardens than a young lady came to sit at the summer-house window, with embroidery in her hand. It was Andrea. <hr style="width:65%;"> <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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