While this was passing in the Rue1 St. Gilles, the elder M. Taverney was walking in his garden, followed by two footmen, who carried a chair, with which they approached him every five minutes, that he might rest. While doing so, a servant came to announce the chevalier.
“My son,” said the old man, “come, Philippe, you arrive àpropos—my heart is full of happy thoughts; but how solemn you look!”
“Do I, sir?”
“You know already the results of that affair?”
“What affair?”
The old man looked to see that no one was listening, then said, “I speak of the ball.”
“I do not understand.”
“Oh, the ball at the Opera.”
Philippe colored.
“Sit down,” continued his father; “I want to talk to you. It seems that you, so timid and delicate at first, now compromise her too much.”
“Whom do you mean, sir?”
“Pardieu! do you think I am ignorant of your escapade, both together at the Opera ball? It was pretty.”
“Sir, I protest——”
“Oh, do not be angry; I only mean to warn you for your good. You are not careful enough; you were seen there with her.”
“I was seen?”
“Pardieu! had you, or not, a blue domino?”
Philippe was about to explain that he had not, and did not know what his father meant, but he thought to himself, “It is of no use to explain to him; he never believes me. Besides, I wish to learn more.”
“You see,” continued the old man, triumphantly2, “you were recognized. Indeed, M. de Richelieu, who was at the ball in spite of his eighty-four years, wondered who the blue domino could be with whom the queen was walking, and he could only suspect you, for he knew all the others.”
“And pray how does he say he recognized the queen?”
“Not very difficult, when she took her mask off. Such audacity3 as that surpasses all imagination; she must really be mad about you. But take care, chevalier; you have jealous rivals to fear; it is an envied post to be favorite of the queen, when the queen is the real king. Pardon my moralizing, but I do not wish that the breath of chance should blow down what you have reared so skilfully4.”
Philippe rose; the conversation was hateful to him, but a kind of savage5 curiosity impelled6 him to hear everything.
“We are already envied,” continued the old man; “that is natural, but we have not yet attained7 the height to which we shall rise. To you will belong the glory of raising our name; and now you are progressing so well, only be prudent8, or you will fail after all. Soon, however, you must ask for some high post, and obtain for me a lord-lieutenancy not too far from Paris. Then you can have a peerage, and become a duke and lieutenant-general. In two years, if I am still alive——”
“Enough, enough!” groaned9 Philippe.
&nbs............