The Great Roxhythe · Book II · Chapter 2 8 (2/2)

“M. Colbert⁠—I think I told you of my admiration for his vagueness?”

“Chut!” she reproved him.

“I thought so. M. Colbert spoke of the bribe⁠—no, I beg your pardon⁠—the allowance that King Louis wished to offer my master. We were both surprised and gratified to hear of this matter. But M. Colbert contrived and still contrives to leave us unsatisfied after all. He forgot to mention figures. I fear he is very absentminded, Madame.”

“Did I not mention figures when you last were here?” asked Madame.

“I have no recollection of it. I remember you gave vent to some pleasantry on the subject.”

“Pleasantry, sir?”

“I believe so. You spoke of sixty thousand pounds, or some such trifle.”

“That was no pleasantry, Roxhythe.”

My lord’s brows rose.

“I did you the honour to treat it as such, Madame.”

Madame studied the cushion tassel.

“Well? What does Charles want?”

“He will sign your treaty, Madame, for the annual allowances of two hundred thousand pounds paid quarterly. No less.”

Madame bit her lip.

“Impossible!”

Roxhythe took up his hat.

“In that case, Madame, we are wasting time. The negotiations need proceed no further.” He rose as he spoke.

Madame raised her hands.

“Oh, la-la! So haughty? No, no, sit down, Roxhythe! We must talk of this.”

Roxhythe relaxed again.

“What is there to talk of, Madame? Those are King Charles his terms. It but remains for you to put them before King Louis.”

“Shall we be quite honest?” said Madame, sweetly. “You name that figure⁠—why?”

“It seems a fair price,” answered Roxhythe. “Or do you want me to be really honest?”

“I said so.”

“Very well. I am, as I was informed the other day, very quick to take impressions. I received one from you that led me to advise my master to ask that sum of Louis.”

“Aho! I wondered if you were as stupidly obtuse as you appeared. It seems you are not. I felicitate you, my lord. But I do not think I gave you such a decided impression.”

“You gave me to understand that Louis was prepared to go to a far greater sum than sixty thousand. The rest I gathered from mine own intuition, and various other sources.”

“My Lord Roxhythe, you are either a very clever man or else a fool. I do not think that Louis will go to that figure. One hundred thousand perhaps. But two hundred thousand! It is a very different matter.”

“You will see, Madame. It is King Charles his last word.”

She looked at him admiringly.

“You have unbounded confidence in yourself, Roxhythe. Do you tell me that that is my brother his last word? I seem to see your hand alone in it. You must be very sure.”

“I am very sure,” he replied.

“So was Lord Arundell sure when he asked two million.”

“But I, Madame, am not Lord Arundell.”

“No,” she sighed. “I would you were. You are quite certain?”

“Yes, Madame.”

“Then we understand one another. I’ll give⁠—King Charles his last word⁠—to Louis. You are satisfied?”

He rose.

“Since I am assured of your support in the matter, yes, Madame.”

“You are audacity itself,” she said. “Will you wait on me⁠—no, I’ll send you word what day. Are you staying with de Guiche as before?”

“No,” said my lord, possessing himself of her hand. “This time I am honouring Saint-Aignan.”

“How truly delightful for him!” she retaliated. “Well, you shall hear from me.”

Roxhythe kissed her hand.

“I shall await your commands, Madame. I have to thank you for receiving me today.”

“Did you see Madame?” asked Saint-Aignan of him, two hours later.

“I did,” said Roxhythe.

“Well? What of the interview?”

“She is the most charming, beautiful lady that I have ever known,” replied my lord.

“I consider that you have offered me your comfit-box!” laughed Saint-Aignan. “I am dumb, then?”

Roxhythe nodded approvingly.

“You should never give way to idle curiosity,” he said. He surveyed his friend critically. “And I do not think I like the mixture of salmon-pink and orange.”