 CHAPTER XVI. In the apartments of Princess Adelaide, daughter of King Louis X, he had housed the Countess Jean de Berri, his favourite since a year. Not without studying the effect it would have on the realm, the jolly, mirthful, devil-may-care madcap had transformed the silent palace into a monkey-house where anyone was tolerated who kept the fun alive. At about nine in the morning, the hour of her reception, Jean Vaubernier, to give her her true name, stepped out of her couch, wrapped in an embroidered gauze gown which allowed a glimpse through the floating lace of her alabaster arms. This seductive statue, awakening more and more, drew a lace mantle over her shoulders and held out her little foot for a slipper, which with its jewels would enrich a woodcutter in her native woods had he found it. Any news of Jean or the vis Countess Jean? she asked at once of her chambermaid. None, and no letters, my lady. What a bore to be kept waiting! pouted the royal pet with a pretty rye face. Will they never invent a method of corresponding a hundred miles apart? Faith, I pity anybody I visit with my vexation this day, but I suppose that, as this star the douthiness is coming, I, the poor glow-worm, will be left alone. Who was waiting? tell me. Duc de Guillaume, Prince Soubis, Count Satine, and President Malpio. But the Duke of Richelieu? he has not yet come. No more than yesterday that political weather-cock has turned from me. He is afraid to be injured, Doris. You must send to his house to ask after him. Yes, my lady, but the king is here. Very well, I am ready. The fifteenth Louis entered the room with a smile on his lips and his head upright. He was accompanied solely by a gentleman in black, who tried by a smile to counteract the baleful effect of thin hard lips and severe grey eyes. It was Lieutenant of Police Satine. The waiting maid and a little negro boy were in the room, but they were not counted. Good morning, Countess, hailed the monarch. How fresh we are looking today! Don't be afraid of Satine. He is not going to talk business, I trust. Oh! how magnificent Zamora is looking! The blackamore was apparelled with the barbaric splendour in which Othello was attired at that period. Sire, he has a favour to crave of your Majesty. He seems to me very ambitious, after having been granted by you the greatest boon one can desire, being your slave, like myself. Satine abound, smiling, but bit his lips at the same time. How delightful you are, Sire, said the Countess. I adore you, France. She whispered in the royal ear and set him smiling. Well, what do you desire for Zamora? Recompense for his long service. He is only twelve years old. You will be paying him in advance. That is a good way of not being treated within gratitude. Capital idea! What do you think, Satine? Ask the King. I support it, as all devoted subjects will gain by it. Well, Sire, I want some more to be appointed governor of my summer residence, Lucienne, which shall be created a royal palace. It would be a parody, and make all the governors of the royal places protest, and with reason. A good thing, for they are always making a noise for nothing. Zamora, kneel down and thank His Majesty for the favour. Sire, you have another royal property from this time forward. Get up, Zamora. You are appointed. Satine, do you know the way to refuse this witch anything? If there is one, it is not yet out into practice, Sire. When found, I wager it will be by chief of police, Satine. I am expecting him to find me something, and I have been on thorns about it for three months. I want a magician. To have him burnt alive! asked the Sovereign, while Satine breathed again. It is warm weather now. Wait for winter. Wait for winter. Not to burn him, but to give him a golden rod, Sire. Oh, did he predict some ill which has not happened? Nay, a blessing which came to pass. Tell us, Countess. Said Louis, settling down in an easy chair like one who is not sure he will be pleased or impressed, but will risk it. I am agreeable, Sire. Only you must share in rewarding him. I must make the present entirely. That is right, Royal. I listen. It begins like a fairy tale. Once upon a time a poor girl was walking the streets of Paris. What time she had neither pages, carriages, negro-boy to hold up her train, and enraged the dowagers, or parrot or monkey. Crossing the Tullieri's garden, she suddenly perceived that she was pursued. Deuce, take it. There upon, she stopped, said the King. Fee! It is clear that your experience has been in following Duchess's or Marschianess's. She was the more alarmed as a thick fog came on, and the chaser emerged from it upon her. She screamed. For the rogue was ugly! No, he was a bright and handsome young man. But still she sued him to spare her from harm. He smiled charmingly, and called heaven as witness that he had no such intention. He only wanted her pledge to grant him a favor when? When she should be a queen. She thought she was not bidding herself much with such a promise, and the man disappeared. Sartina's very wrong in not finding him. Sire, I do not refuse, but I cannot. Cannot ought not to be in the police dictionary, said Doubarry. We have a clue. Ha-ha! That is the old story. It is the truth. The fault is that your description is so slight. Slight! She painted him so brightly that I forbid you to find the dog. I only want to ask a piece of information. What for? When his prophecy is accomplished? If I am almost queen, I want to ask him when I shall be placed in the court. Present it formally. It is not enough to reign in the night. I want to reign a little in the daytime. That is not the magician's business, but mine. Said Louis, frowning at the conversation, getting upon delicate ground. All rather yours, for all that is wanted is an introductress. Among the court prudes. All sold to Chois-sous or Praslan? Pray, let us have no politics here. If I am not to speak, I shall act without speaking, and upset the ministers without any further notice. At this juncture, the maid Doris entered and spoke a word to her mistress. It is John who comes from travelling and begs to present her respects to your Majesty. Let us have John in, for I have missed something lately, and it may be her. I thank your Majesty, said John, coming in and hastening to whisper to her sister in kissing her. I have done it. The countess could not repress an outcry of delight. I am so glad to see her. Quite so, go on and chat with her, while I confer with Sartina to learn whence you come, John. Sire, said Sartina, eager to avoid the pinch. May I have a moment for the most important matter? About these seers, Illuminati, miracle workers. Quacks, make them take out licences as conjurers and a high figure. They will not be any cause of fear. Sire, the situation is more serious than most believe. New Masonic lodges are being opened. This society has become a sect to which is affiliated all the foes of the monarchy, the idealists, encyclopedists, and philosophers. Voltaire has been received at court. A dying man. Only his pretense. All are agitating, writing, speaking, corresponding, plotting, and threatening. From some words dropped, they are expecting a leader. When he turns up Sartina, we will turn him down in the Bastille. These philosophers whom you despise will destroy the monarchy. In what space of time, my lord? How can I tell? said the chief of police, looking astonished. Ten, fifteen, or more years? My dear friend, in that time I shall be no more. Tell this to my successor. He turned away, and this was the opportunity that the favorite was waiting for, since she heaved a sigh, and said, Oh gracious John, what are you telling me? My poor brother Jean, so badly wounded that his arm will have to be amputated? Oh, wounded in some street affray, or in a drinking saloon quarrel? No, Sire, attacked on the king's highway, and nearly murdered. Murdered? Repeated the ruler, who had no feelings but could finally feign them. This is in your province, Sartina. Can such a thing have happened? said the chief of police, apparently less concerned than the king, but in reality more so. I saw a man spring on my brother, said John, forced him to draw his sword, and cut him grievously. Was the Ruffian alone? He had half a dozen bullies with him. Poor Viscount, forced to fight, sighed the monarch, trying to regulate the amount of his grief by the Countessus, but he saw that she was not pretending. And, wounded, he went on in a heartbroken tone. But what was the scuffle about? asked the police lieutenant, trying to see into the affair. Most frivolous about post horses disputed for with the Viscount, who was in a hurry to help me home to my sister, whom I had promised to join this morning. This requires retaliation, hey, Sartina, said the king. It looks so, but I will inquire into it, the aggressor's name and rank. I believe he is a military officer in the Dauphinesses Dragoon guards, named something like Bavine or Favre. Stop, it is Tavernay. Tomorrow he will sleep in prison, said the chief of police. Oh, dear, no! interrupted the Countess out of deep silence. That is not likely, for he has bought an instrument, and you will not punish the real instigators of the outrage. It is the work of the Duke of Chroiseux. I shall leave the field free for my foes, and quit a realm where the ruler is daunted by his ministers. How dare you! cried Louis, offended. Chon understood that her sister was going too far, and she struck in. She plucked her sister by the dress and said, Sire, my sister's love for our poor brother carries her away. I committed the fault and I must repair it. As the most humble subject of your majesty, I merely apply for justice. That is good. I only ask to deal justice. If the man has done wrong, let him be chastised. Am I asking anything else? said the Countess, glancing pittingly at the monarch who was so worried elsewhere and seldom tormented in her rooms. But I do not like my suspicions snubbed. Your suspicions shall be changed to a certainty by a very simple course. We will have the Duke of Chroiseux here. We will confront the parties at odds, as the lawyers say. At this moment, the yusher opened the door and announced that the Prince Royal was waiting in the king's apartments to see him. It is written I shall have no peace, grumbled Louis, but he was not sorry to avoid the wrangle with Chroiseux, and he brightened up. I am going, Countess. Farewell. You see how miserable I am with everybody pulling me about. If the philosophers only knew what a dog's life a king has, especially when he is king of France. But what am I to say to the Duke of Chroiseux? Send him to me, Countess. Kissing her hand, trembling with fury, he hastened away as usual, fearing every time to lose the fruit of a battle won by palliatives and common cunning. Alas! he escapes us again! wailed the courtesan, clenching her plump hands in vexation. End of Chapter 16, Recording by John Van Stan, Savannah, Georgia Chapter 17 of Balsamo the Magician by Alexander Dumas, translated by Henry L. Williams. This sleeper-box recording is in the public domain. A Royal Clock Repairer In the hall of the clocks in Versailles Palace, a pink cheeked and meek-eyed young gentleman was walking about with a somewhat vulgar step. His arms were pendant and his head sunk forward. He was in his seventeenth year. He was recognizable as the king's heir, by being the living image of the bourbon race most exaggerated. Louis Auguste, Duke of Berri, and heir to the throne as the Dauphin, soon wearied of his lounge and stopped to gaze with an heir of one who understood horology on the great clock in the back of the hall. It was a universal machine which told of time to the century, with the lunar phases and the courses of the planets and was always the prince's admiration. Suddenly, the hands on which his eyes were fastened came to a standstill. A grain of sand had checked the mechanism and the masterpiece was dead. On seeing this misfortune, the royal one forgot what he had come to do. He opened the clock case, glazed door, and put his head inside to see what was the matter. All at once he uttered a cry of joy, for he had spied a screw loose, of which the head had worked up and caught another part of the machinery, and with a tortoise shell-pick in one hand, and holding the wheel with the other, he began to fix the screw with his head in the box. Thus absorbed, he never heard the usher at the door cry out, The King! Louis was some time glancing about before he spied the prince's legs as he stood, half eclipsed before the clock. What the doos are you doing there? He asked as he tapped his son on the shoulder. The amateur clock-maker drew himself out with the proper precautions for so noble a timepiece. Oh! Your Majesty, I was just killing time while you were not present. By murdering my clock? Pretty amusement! Oh, no! Only setting it to rights, a screw was loose, and… Never mind mechanics! What do you want of me? I am eager to be off to Marley. He started for the door, always trying to avoid awkward situations. Is it money you are after? I will send you some. Nay! I have savings out of my last quarter's money. What a miser! And yet a spendthrift was his tutor. I believe he has all the virtues missing in me. Sire, is not the bride near at hand yet? Your bride? I should say fifty leagues off. Are you in a hurry? The Prince Royal blushed. I am not eager for the motive you think. No! So much the worse. Hang it all! You are sixteen, and the Princess very pretty. You are warranted in being impatient. Cannot the ceremonies be curtailed? For at this rate she will be an age coming. I don't think the travelling arrangements are well made. The mischief! Thirty thousand horses placed along the route, with men and carts and coaches. How can you believe there is bad management when I have made all these arrangements? Sire, in spite of these, I am bound to say that I think, as in the case of your clock, there is a screw loose. The progress has been right royally arranged, but did your Majesty make it fully understood that all the horses, men, and vehicles were to be employed by the Dauphiness? A vague suspicion annoyed the monarch, who looked hard at his air. This suggestion agreed with another idea fretting him. Certainly? he replied. Of course you are satisfied then. The bride will arrive on time, and she is properly attended to. You are rich with your savings, and you can wind up my clock and set it going again. I have a good mind to appoint you clockmaker extraordinary to the royal household, do you hear? And laughing, he was going to snatch the opportunity to slip away, when as he opened the door he faced a man on the sill. Louis drew back a step. Choisse? he exclaimed. I had forgotten she was to send him to me. Never mind. He shall pay for my son irritating me. So you have come, my lord. You heard I wanted you. Yes, Sire? replied the Prime Minister coldly. I was stressing to come, anyway. Good! I have serious matters to discuss. Said the Sovereign, frowning to intimidate the Minister, who was, unfortunately, the hardest man to browbeat in the kingdom. Very serious matters I have to discuss, too. He replied with a glance for the Dauphin, who was skulking behind the clock. Thought the King. My son is my foe, too. I am in a triangle with woman, minister, and son. And cannot escape. I come to say that the Viscount Jean was nearly murdered in an ambush. Nay, that he was wounded in the forearm in a duel. I know it perfectly. So 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-Doubaix, in some way, connected. Questioned the King. This is getting curious. Bray, explain my lord and conceal nothing. Was it the Princess who gave the sword thrust to Doubaix? Not her highness, but one of the officers of her escort. Reply, 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, Phillipsburg, and Mayhan, he is Tavernay Red Castle. The Dauphin mutely repeated the title to engrave it on his mind. Certainly. I know the Red Castles. 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? Quirried 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 colour, for the new way of presenting the case was again a menacing phantom. Yes, Chevalier du Barry was putting the insult on the Royal House of taking the reserved Royal Horses when up came the Chevalier Red Castle, 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. Du Barry whipped out his sword. Was he the first to draw? demanded the King. The Prince blushed and looked to choiseux 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 equalised. The officer must have been malappear. Impertinent to a man who was dragging away the horses reserved for your Majesty's destined daughter. Exclaimed Choisul, 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 Jean 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 Tavernet. In that case, I should have asked for his head. Né, said the Dauphin, I only ask for his banishment. Exile! For in Elhouse 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 Duberry personally, but as he insults the Dauphiness. What a model husband, sneered the King. But I am not to be gold 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 Duberry, 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 realise the fable with which my cousin of Prussia jeers me, that mine is the court of King Petald? No, I shall do nothing of the kind. I stand on my honour in my own style and will defend it similarly. Sire, said the Prince, with his inexhaustible meekness but eternal persistency, Your Majesty's honour 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 Marley, 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 Saint 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 air 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 to 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 about me and poor Gene. The Count of Provence is translating Lucretius, his brother of Artois, 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 treatise, and a grand eloquent 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 in 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 some more in his new government. I am off for Marley, but I will come over to Lucien this evening to tell you all I am thinking about at present. France. Labelle, he said to his Confidential Ballet, away with this to the Countess, and my advice is for you to keep in her good graces. Chapter 18 of Balsamo the Magician by Alexandre Dumas, translated by Henry L. Williams, this leperbox recording is in the public domain. The Countess of Bayern A hackney-coach stopping at the doorway of Chancellor Malpieu, president of Parliament, induced the porter to deign to stalk out to the door of the vehicle and see why the way was thus blocked. He saw an old lady in an antiquated costume. She was thin and bony but active, with cat's eyes rolling under gray brows. But, poverty-stricken though she appeared, the porter showed respect as he asked her name. I am the Countess of Bayern, she replied, but I fear that I shall not have the fortune to find his lordship at home. My lord is receiving, answered the janitor. That is, he will receive your ladyship. The old lady stepped out of the carriage, wondering if she did not dream, while the porter gave two jerks to a bell-rope. An usher came to the portals, where the first servant motioned that the visitor might enter. If your ladyship desires, speak with the Lord High Chancellor, said the usher. Step this way, please. They do speak ill of this official, uttered the lady, but he has the good trait that he is easily accessible, but it is strange that so high an officer of the law should have opened doors. Chancellor Mopue, buried in an enormous wig and clad in black velvet, was writing in his study where the door was open. On entering, the old Countess threw a rapid glance around, but, to her surprise, there was no other face than hers, and that of the law-lord, thin, yellow, and busy, reflected in the mirrors. He rose in one piece and placed himself with his back to the fireplace. The lady made three courtesies according to the rule, her little compliment was rather unsteady. She had not expected the honour. She never could have believed that a cabinet minister would give her some time out of his business, or his repose. Mopue replied the time was no less precious to subject than his Majesty's ministers, although preference had to be given to persons with urgent affairs. Consequently, he gave what leisure he had to such clients. My Lord, said the old lady with fresh courtesies, I beg most humbly to speak to your Excellency of a grave matter, on which depends my fortune. You know that my all depends, or rather my sons, on the case sustained by me against the Salucha family. You are a friend of that family, but your lordship's equity is so well known that I have not hesitated to apply to you. The Chancellor was fondling his chin, but he could not help a smile to hear his fair play extolled. My lady, you are right in calling me friend of the Salucha, but I laid aside friendship when I took the seals of office up. I look into your business simply as a jurist consultus. The case is soon coming on. In another week, I should beg your lordship to look over my papers. I have done so already. Oh, what do you think of it? I beg to say that you ought to be prepared to go home and get the money together, to pay the costs, for you will infallibly lose the case. Then my son and I are ruined. Unless you have friends at court to counterbalance the influence of the Salucha brothers, who are linked with three parts of the courtiers, in fact, I know not if they have an enemy. I am sorry to hear your excellency say this. I am sorry to say so, for I really wanted to be useful to your ladyship. The Countess shuddered at the tone of feigned kindness, for she seemed to catch a glimpse of something dark in the mind, if not the speech of the Chancellor. If that obscurity could be swept away, she fancied she would see something favourable to her. Do you know nobody at court? He insisted. Only some old noblemen, probably retired, who would blush to see their old friend so poor. I have my right of entry to the palace, but what is the good? Better to have the right to enter into enjoyment of my two hundred thousand beaver. Work that miracle, my lord. Judges cannot be led astray by private influence. He said forgetting that he was contradicting himself. Why not, however, apply to the new powers, eager to make recruits? You must have known the royal princesses. They have grown out of remembrance. The Prince Royal? I never knew him. Besides, he is dwelling too much on his bride, who is on the road hither to do any one a good turn. Why not address the favourites? The Duke of Swasser? No. The other. The Countess. Du Bavrie? said the prude, opening her fan. Yes, she is good-hearted, and she likes to do kindnesses to her friends. I am of too old a line for her to like me. That is where you are wrong, for she is trying to ally herself with the old families. But I have never seen her. What a pity! Or her sister, John, the other sister, Bishy, her brother, Jean, or her negro boys, Amor. What? Is her negro a power at court? Indeed he is. A black who looks like a pug-dog, for they sell his picture in the streets. How was I to meet this black Amor, my lord? And the dame drew herself up, offended. It is a pity you did not. Fords Amor would win your suit for you. Ask the dukes and peers of the realm who takes candies to him at Marley, or Luchien. I am the Lord High Chancellor, but what do you think I was about when your lady ship called? Drawing up the instructions for him as governor of Luchien, to which Amor has been appointed. The Count of Bayan was recompensed for his services of twenty years, with merely the same title. What degradation! Is the monarchy indeed going to the dogs? Cried the indignant lady. I do not know about the government. But the crumbs are going to them, and, faith, we must scramble among them to get the tidbits away from them. If you wanted to be welcomed by Lady Duberi, you could do no better than carry these papers for her pet to her. It is plain that fate is against me, for though your lordship has kindly greeted me, the next step is out of the question. Not only am I to pay court to a Duberi, but I must carry her negro boy's appointment, a black whom I would not have deigned to kick out of my way on the street. Suddenly the usher interrupted. The Chancellor dropped his hands in stupor, while the old petitioner sank back in an armchair without pulse or breath. Our old acquaintance pranced in with his arm in a sling. Oh, engaged? Pray, do not disturb yourself, my lady. I want only a couple of minutes to make a complaint, a couple of his precious minutes. They have tried to murder me. I did not mind their making fun at us, singing lewd ballads, slandering and libeling us. But it is too much of a vile thing to weigh, lay, and murder. But I am interrupting the lady. This is the Countess of Bayonne, said the Chancellor. Duberi drew back gracefully to make a proper bow, and the lady did the same for her courtesy, and they saluted as ceremoniously as though they had been in court. After you, discount, she said, my case is about property, yours about honour, and so takes the lead. Profiting by her obligingness, Duberi unfolded his complaint. You will want witnesses on your side. Observe the Chancellor. That is awkward, for everybody there seems to be on the other side. Not everybody interrupted the Countess, for if the affray was the one that happened in Chaussay Village, I can be your witness. I came through there a couple of hours after, and all were talking of it. Have a care, my lady, said the Viscount, for if you speak in my favour, you will make an enemy of Chaussay. She ought to lean on your arm, then. Though one is wounded, it will soon be healed, and the other is still formidable. Said the law-lord while the old dame rolled from one gulf into another. Ah, but I know another whose arms are perfect, said Jean Merrily, and service for service she will offer your ladyship hers. I am going straight to my sister, and I offer you a seat in my carriage. But without motive, without preparations, faulted the Countess. Here is your excuse, whispered Maupure, slipping Zemours' governmental instructions into her sallow, wrinkled hand. My Lord Chancellor, you are my deliverer, she gasped, and the Viscount is the flower of the chivalry. Indeed a splendid coach in the royal colours was waiting at the doors. The Countess placed herself in it, swelling with pride. Jean entered likewise and gave the word for the departure. In her joy at this smooth sailing, the Countess forgot that she had wanted to lay a private complaint before the Chancellor as head of the legal fraternity. Then maybe remembered that Jean had decoyed her into travelling to Paris by pretending to be the daughter of her lawyer, Flageot. What was her amazement therefore, on calling on that gentleman, to learn that not only was he a bachelor without a daughter, but that he had no good news to impart to her on her suit. Burning with disappointment, she had sought a remedy against this lawyer or this woman who had hoaxed her. Chapter 19 Of Balsamo the Magician by Alexander Dumas Translated by Henry L. Williams This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Jean spoils all. After the king's departure from the short and unpleasant call as he termed it to the courtiers, the Countess du Berri remained closeted with Jean and her brother, who had kept in the background for fear that his wound would be found to be but a scratch. The outcome of this family council was that the Countess, instead of going to Luchien, went to a private house of hers in Valois Street, Paris. Jean read a book Wilds Amour at the window, watched for the carriage to return. When the discount brought the old Countess, he left her in the anti-room while he ran to tell his sister of his success. Where is Jean? He asked. At Versailles, where I bade her, keep close. Then go in, my princess. Lady du Berri opened the boudoir door and walked into her visitor's presence. I have already thanked my brother, she said, for having procured me the honour of your ladyship's visit, but I must thank you at present for making it. I cannot find expressions," said the delighted suitor, to show my gratitude for the kind reception granted me. Allow me," said Jean as the ladies took a seat. The Countess must not seem to be applying to you for a favour. The Chancellor has confided a commission for you. That is all. The visitor gave a speaker a thankful look, and handed the letter as patent from the Chancellor, which created Luciana a royal castle and entrusted Zamor with the governorship. It is I who am obliged," said the younger Countess, and I shall consider myself happy when the chance comes for me to do something in my turn. That will be easy, cried the other with a quickness, delighting the pair of plotters. You will not be ignorant of my name? How could we, the name of the princess, to whom we owe King Henry IV? Then you may have heard of a lawsuit which ties up my property. Claimed by the Solutia? Yes, the King was talking of the matter with Chancellor Mao Puy, my cousin, the other evening. The King talked of my case, in what terms, pray. Alas, he seemed to think that it ought to be the Solutia. Good heavens, then we would have to pay twice over a sum which morally was paid. I have not the receipt I grant, but I can prove payment morally. I think moral proofs are accepted," said Jean gravely. The claim of two hundred thousand lever, with interest now amounting to a capital of over a million, dated 1406, it must have been settled by Guy Gaston the Fourth Count of Bayern, because on his deathbed in 1417 he wrote in his will, owing no debts, and so on. That settles it, said Jean, but your adversaries hold the note, said the Countess, pretending to take an interest in the subject. Yes, that embroils it, said the old lady, who ought to have said this clears it up. It terribly changes the position for the Solutia. Oh, my lady, I would that you were one of the judges. In olden times you might have claimed a champion to do battle for you. I have such belief in your case that I would go into the lists for you. Unfortunately, we have not to do with knights, but a gang of robbers and black gowns, who will not understand so plain an expression as, I die, owing no debts. Stay, though, as the words were spoken three hundred years ago, they would be outlawed, I think, ventured Countess Dupéry. But you would be convinced of the lady's right sister, if you were to hear her, as I have heard coming along. Then, to me the favour of coming out to my place at Lucienne, where, by the way, the king drops in now and again. But I cannot rely on such a chance, for the case is called Monday, and this is Friday. What the deuce can be done! grumbled the viscount, appearing to meditate profoundly. If I could have a royal hearing at Versailles, through your introduction, suggested the old lady. Not to be thought of. The king does not like me to meddle with law or politics, and at present he is worried about my presentation to the court. Oh! exclaimed the aged litigant. The king wants it to come off before the new Dauphinesc arrives, so that my sister can go to the festivities at Campagne, in spite of Choisseur's opposition, Prostland's intrigues, and Lady Grimanc's intervention. I understand. The countess has no introduction. queried Lady Bayern, timidly. Beg pardon. We have Baroness Aligny. Only the king would prefer somebody with a historical name. I cannot say that I ever heard of the Alignys. Hissed the old descendant of kings, with incredible envy. It would be a grand thing for her, for the king is tired of the jades who put on airs prouder than himself. Said John, I could make Lady Aligny draw off by telling her what the king said. It would be unfair, said the viscount. What a pity. For in that case, here is a lady of ancient lineage and regal. She would win her lawsuit, her son could have a lieutenancy in the household troops, and as Lady Bayern must have gone to much outlay in her trips to Paris, she would have compensation out of the privy purse. Such luck does not rain down twice in a lifetime. Alas, no, said Lady Bayern, crushed in her chair by all things being against her. An idea strikes me, said John. 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 Alignys complaining. The king could do no wrong. The king would do right about the suit, said Jean. He would be delighted, and he would be sure to say the chancellor, Maupin, I want you to treat Lady Bayern 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 lever, said the other with sorrow. Poo, what if there be a royal present of a hundred thousand lever? 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 coronancy in the army. Said Jean. Any other kinsmen? Hey, nephew. We shall find a birth for him. We rely on your intervention, said countess du Barry, arising. You will allow me to mention your ladyship to the king? Do me the honour, 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 Bayern was conducted on Jean's hail-arm. For there the irrepressible John came bounding out of a sedan chair. Lady Bayern recognized the pretended daughter of lawyer Flageot. It is Mistress John, roared some more. Is that little fook you'll bear here? asked John 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 Bayern. 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 a dress to the coachman. End of Chapter 19 Recording by John Van Stan, Savannah, Georgia Chapter 20 of Balsam of the Magician by Alexander Dumas Translated by Henry L. Williams This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Annoyance and amusement The king had been at Luqian from three o'clock till dark, when, supremely wearied, he reposed on a sofa in a sitting-room where Countess Du Behie surprised him about half-past ten. Zamora 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 Luqian. The chancellor sent me the appointment, and so he donned the uniform. Swear him in quickly, and let him begin guarding us. Zamora marched up, wearing a showy lace dress with a sort. His huge three-cocked hat was under his arm. He went down on his knees, laid one hand on his heart. The other was placed in the kings, and he said, Me swear faith and homage to my Messiah. Me will defend the castle placed under my God to the last gasp, and me will not surrender it to the last can of jelly is eaten. The sovereign laughed, less up 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. Thank you, Massa, said Zamora rising. Now run away into the servant's hall and show your fine trappings. As Zamora 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 haunting me up. No, Jean is the one who 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 chiefsarteenness. I have the pay ready, said the king, jingling some coins in his pocket. No fibs. We count Tess Dubehi went to her private residence in Valois Street, Paris, where Zamora 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 a way back. It is Count Tess Bayan of the family of reigning princes. I guess she will not disgrace the line which has allied with the royal stewards, the Dubehi Moors. I never knew of any Count Tess Bayan but the one who lives by Verdun. The very one who will call tomorrow 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 France? said the Count Tess. The king laughed but not frankly. Tomorrow at eleven? At our breakfast hour. Impossible, my darling, for I must away. I have important business with Sartina. 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 and 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, Count Tess. He broke forth in vexation. Put an end to this joke. Sire, I have no authority here, said the Count Tess. It is a royal residence and the power is confided in the governor and govern it some more as going the round with his guard of four men. The king rather forced a smile. That 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. John, 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 odour set the royal mouth watering. You smell supper, my lord. Explain 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 Miley he would find nothing but a cold collation. Here, through a doorway open, he saw a table set for two. The odour continued to send the house. Bless us! You have a good cook. I do not know. For this is his first attempt to please us. I engaged him because he has a reputation for a choice omelet of pheasant's eggs. My favorite dish! I should not like to grieve your new cook, Countess, and I might taste it while we wait for the governor to finish his inspection. But who will wait upon us? he asked, entering. I hope to do so, without upsetting any of this iced champagne, a new invention of which I wish your opinion. I fear I shall never take it from your hand, for it fascinates me into solely admiring it. Ah, if my hired eulogist would say something so sweet as that. I see that I must let you have your own way. And he settled down in an easy chair, like one who has put in good humour by the prospect of a luxurious repast. They finished it with coffee burnt in brandy, with a paper which the king held while the fair cajoler lighted. That is bad luck on the schwasul party. She said, that was one of the lampoons against us which they inspire, and allow to be circulated. Did I call you a fae? I'm this stook. You are a demon! The Countess rose. I think I had better see if Governor Zamor is not on the return. But the king shook his head, inflamed by the punch, the toque, and the champagne. He was conscious of still another perfume, and his nose directed him to a doorway suddenly opened. It led into a tempting chamber, hung with sky-blue satin, embroidered with flowers and their natural colours. In Alcove, where a mysterious soft light reigned. Well, Sire, the governor seems to have locked us in, and unless we save ourselves out of window with the curtains, no, do not let us pull them down. Rather, draw them close. He opened his arms, laughing, and the beauty let the rose fall from her teeth, and it burst all its petals open as it reached the carpet. End of Chapter 20. Recording by John Van Stan, Savannah, Georgia. Chapter 21 of Balsamotha Magician by Alexander Dumas, translated by Henry L. Williams, this Libravox recording is in the public domain. Countess, cut Countess. On the road to Paris from Lucien, the poor Countess du Berri was racing along like a disembodied spirit, and advice from her brother Jean had dashed her down when she had brought the king to the point of arranging for her presentation day. So, the old donkey has fooled us. She cried when she was alone with him. I am afraid so, but listen. I stayed in town because I am not trustful like you, and I am not wrong. An hour before the time when I ought to call for the old Countess at her inn, I met my man Patrick at the door, where I had sent him to stand century since daybreak. He had seen nothing wrong, and I left the carriage and went upstairs quite assured. At her door a woman stopped me to say that her mistress had upset the chocolate, which she boiled herself, on her foot, and was crippled. Oh heavens, you drive me to despair, Jean. I am not in despair. You can do what I could not. If there be any imposter, you can discover it, and somehow we will punish her. I was consulting a lawyer. He says we must not thrash a person in a house. It is fine and prison, while without. Beat a woman? Accountess of the old stock? You mad rogue, let me rather see her and try another method. Jean conducted her to the Chanticleer inn with the old lady dwelt. At the foot of the stairs she was stopped by the landlady. Countess Beann is ill, she said. Just so. I am coming to see how she is. And Jean darted by her as nimble as a fawn. Yow, ladyship, here? He ejaculated the old lady on seeing the court beauty's face screwed up into the conventional expression of condolence. I have only just learnt of the accident. You seem to be in much pain. My right foot is skull-dead, but misfortunes will happen. But you know the king expected you this morning? You double my despair, lady. His Majesty was vexed that you're not coming. My excuse is in my sufferings, and I must present my most humble excuses to his Majesty. I am not saying this to cause you pain, said Lady Dubahi, seeing that the old noblewoman was angry. But just to show you how set his Majesty was on seeing you for the step which made him grateful, I regret the accident the more as I think it was due to your excitement from meeting a certain person abruptly at my house. The lady whom came as I went away? The same, my sister, mademoiselle Dubahi. Only she bore another name when you met her, that of mademoiselle Flageot. Oh, indeed, said the old dame with unhidden sourness, did you send her to deceive me? No, to do you a service at the same time as you did me one. Let us speak seriously, in spite of your wound, painful but not dangerous. Could you make the effort to ride to Luchien and stand up a short while before the king? Impossible! If you could bear the sight, I wish to assure myself of its extent. To her great surprise, while writhing in agony, the lady let Jean undo the bandage and expose a burn horribly raw. It spoke eloquently for, as Lady Bayan had seen and recognized John, this self-inflicted hurt raised her to the height of mutious escapola. The visitor mutely admired. Come to consciousness, the old countess fully enjoyed her triumph. Her wild eye glotted on the young woman kneeling at her foot. The latter replaced the bands with the tenderness of her sex to the ailing. Placed the limb on the cushions as before and said as she took a seat beside her. You are a grander character than I suspected. I ask your pardon for not having gone straight to business at the start. Name your conditions. I want the two hundred thousand lever at stake in my lawsuit to be guaranteed me. Reply the old dame with a firmness clearly proving that one queen was speaking with another. But that would make double if you won your case. No, for I look upon the sum I am contesting with the salucha for as my own. The like sum is something to thank you for in addition to the honor of your quaintance. I ask a captaincy and a company for my son, who has martial instincts inborn but would make a bad soldier because he is fit for officership alone. A captaincy now with a promotion to a colonelcy next year. Who is to raise the regiment? The king. For if I spent my money in doing so, I should be no better off. I ask the restitution of my vineyard in terrain. The royal engineers took six acres for the grand canal, and condemning it at the expert's valuation, I was cheated out of half price. I went to some law expenses in the matter, and my whole bill at lawyer flageaus is nearly ten thousand lever. I will pay this last bill out of my own purse. Said Jean. Is this all? Stay. I cannot appear before our great monarch thus. Versailles and its splendors have been so long strange to me that I have no dresses. I foresaw that, and ordered a costume at the same markers as mine own. It will be ready by noon to-morrow. I have no jewels. The court jewelers will loan you my set called the Louise, as I bought them when the Princess Louise sold her jewels to go into the nunnery. They will charge you two hundred thousand and ten lever, but will take it back in a day or two for two hundred thousand, so that thus you will receive that sum in cash. Very well, Countess. I have nothing to desire. I will write you my pledges, but first the little letter to the king which I beg to dictate. We will exchange the documents. That is fair, said the old fox, drawing the table toward her and getting the pen and paper ready as Lady du Barry spoke. Sire, the happiness I feel at seeing your Majesty's acceptance of my offer to present the Countess du Barry at court. The pen stuck and spluttered. A bad pen. You should change it. Never mind, it must be broken in. In boldens me, the letter proceeded, to solicit your Majesty's favourable eye when I appear at Versailles tomorrow under permission. I venture to hope for a kind welcome from my kinship to a house of which every head has shed his blood in the service of your august ancestors. Anastasi, you from me, Rudolph, Countess of Bayan. In return the plotter handed over the notes and the order on her jewelry. Will you let me send my brother for you at three o'clock with the coach? Just so. Mind, you take care of yourself. Fear nothing. I am a noble woman, and as you have my word I will keep it tomorrow, though I die for it. So they parted, the old Countess lying down, going over her documents, and the young one, lighter than she arrived, but with her heart aching at not having baffled the old litigant who easily defeated the King of France. In the main room she perceived her brother draining a second bottle of wine in order not to rouse suspicions on his reasons for staying in the inn. He jumped up and ran to her. How goes it? he asked. As Marshal Sax said to the King on showing him the field of Faultenoy, Sire, learn by the sight how dear and agonizing a victory is. But you have a patroness. Yes, but she costs us a million. It is cruel, but I could not help myself. Mind how you handle her, or she may back out, or charge double her present price. What a woman, a Roman! A Spartan, but bring her to Lucienne at three, for I shall not be easy till I have her under luck and key. As the Countess sprang into the coach, Jean watched her and muttered, By Crussus, we cost France a nice round sum. It is highly flattering to the Dubaïs. Chapter 22 of Balsamotha Magician by Alexandre Dumas, translated by Henry L. Williams, this Libravox recording is in the public domain. At a loss for everything. At eleven a.m., Lady Dubaï arrived at her house in Valois Street, determined to make Paris her starting point for her march to Versailles. Lady Bayonne was there, kept close when not under her eye, with the utmost art of the doctors trying to alleviate the pain of her burn. From overnight Jean and Charne and the waiting woman had been at work, and none who knew not the power of gold would have believed in the wonders they wrought in a short time. The hairdresser was engaged to come at six o'clock. The dress was a marvel on which twenty-six seamstresses were sewing the pearls, ribbons, and trimmings, so that it would be done in time instead of taking a week as usual. At the same hour as the hairdresser it would be on hand. As for the coach, the varnish was drying on it in a shed built to heat the air. The mob flocked to see it, a carriage superior to any the Dauphinès had, with the Dubaï war cry emblazoned on the panels, charge onward. Palliated by doves billing and cooing on one side and a heart transfixed with a dart on the other, the hole was enriched with the attributes of Cupid Bowes, Quivers, and the Hymennail torch. This coach was to be at the door at nine. While the preparations were proceeding at the favorites, the news ran around the town. Idle and indifferent as the Parisians pretend to be, they are fonder of novelty than any other people. Lady Dubaï and her regal coach paraded before the populace like an actress on the stage. One is interested in those whose persons are known. Everybody knew the beauty, as she was eager to show herself in the playhouse, on the promenade and in the stores, like all pretty rich and young bells. Besides, she was known by her portraits, freaks, and the funny negro-boys amour. People crowded the Palais Royale not to see Rousseau play chess, worse luck to the philosophers, but to admire the lovely fairy in her fine dresses and gilded coach which Rousseau talked about. Jean Dubaï's saying that, The Dubaïs cost a country a nice sum. Was deep, and it was only fair that France who paid the bill should see the show. Jean knew that the French liked to be dazzled. She was more one of the nation than the queen, a polander, and as she was kindly she tried to get her money's worth in the display. Instead of lying down for a rest as her brother suggested, she took a bath of milk for her complexion, and was ready by six for the hairdresser. A headdress for a lady to go to the court in was a building which took time in those days. The operator had to be not only a man of art, but of patience. Alone among the craftsmen, hairdressers were allowed to wear the sword-like gentlemen. At six o'clock, the court hairdresser, the great Louban, had not arrived. Nor at a quarter past seven. The only hope was that, like all great men, Louban was not going to be held cheap by coming punctually. But a running footman was sent to learn about him, and returned with the news that Louban had left his house, and would probably arrive shortly. There has been a block of vehicles on the way. Explain the discount. Plenty of time, said the countess. I will try on my dress while awaiting him. John fetched my dress. Your ladyship's sister went off ten minutes ago to get it, said Doris. Hark to the wheels! interrupted John. It is our coach. No, it was John. With the news that the dressmaker with two of her assistants was just starting with the dress to try it on and finish fitting it, but she was a little anxious. This count, said the countess. Won't you send for the coach? You are right, Jean. Take the new horses to Franckian, the coach builders. He ordered at the door, and bring the new coach with them harnessed to it. As the sound of the departing horses was still heard, Zemore trotted in with a letter. Bokrok Aman gives a more letter. What gentleman? On horseback, at the door. Read it, dear, instead of questioning. I hope it is nothing untoward. Really, Viscount, you are very silly to be so frightened, said the countess, but on opening the letter she screamed and fell half dead on the lounge. No hairdresser, no dress, no coach. She panted while John rushed to her, and Jean picked up the letter. Thus it ran in a feminine handwriting. Be on your guard. You will have no hairdresser, dress, or coach this evening. I hope you will get this in time. As I do not seek your gratitude, I do not name myself. If you know of a sincere friend, take that as me. This is the last straw, cried John in his rage. By the blue moon, I must kill somebody. No hairdresser. I will scalp this loupin, for it is half past seven, and he has not turned up. Melodiction. He was not going to court, so he did not hesitate to tear at his hair. Trouble is the dress, groaned John. Hairdressers can be found anywhere. The countess said nothing, but she heaved a sigh which would have melted the choiseul party had they heard it. Then, Come, come, said John. Let us be calm. Let us hunt up another hairdresser and see about the address not coming. Then there is the coach, said Jean. It ought to have been here by this. It is a plot. Will you not make Sartina arrest the guilty ones? Maupier sentenced them to death, and the whole gang be burned with their fellows on execution plus. I want to rack the hairdresser, break the dressmaker on the wheel, and flay the coach builder alive. The countess had come to her senses, but only to see the dreadful dilemma the better. At the height of this scene of tribulation, echoing from the boudoir to the street door, while the footmen were blundering over each other in confusion, at a score of different orders, a young blade in an apple-green silk coat and vest, lilac breeches and white silk stockings, skipped out of a cab, crossed the deserted sill and the courtyard, bounded up the stairs and wrapped on the dressing room door. Jean was wrestling with a chin stand, with which his coat-tail was entangled, while studying a huge Japanese idol which he had struck too hard with his fist, when the three knocks, wary, modest, and delicate, came at the panel. Jean opened it with a fist which would have beaten in the gates of Gaza, but the stranger eluded the shock by a leap, and falling on his feet in the third position of dancing, he said, My lord, I come to offer my service as hairdresser to the countess Doubaris, who I hear is commanded to present herself at court. A hairdresser! cried the Doubaris, ready to hug him and dragging him into the room. Did Lou Pans send you? You are an angel. Nobody sent me. Returned the young man. I read in the newspapers that your ladyship was going to court this evening, and I thought I might have a chance of showing that I have a new idea for a court headdress. What might be your name, yunker? demanded Jean distrustfully. Leonard, unknown at present, but of the lady will only try me. It will be celebrated to-morrow. Only I must see her dress, that I may create the headdress in harmony. Oh, my dress, my poor, poor dress! moaned the countess, recalled to reality by the illusion, What is the use of having one's hair done up when one has no robe? And she fell back on the lounge. At this instant the doorbell rang. It was a dress box which the janitor took from a porter in the street, which the butler took from him and which Jean tore out of his hands. He took off the lid, plunged his hand into the depths, and yelled with glee. It enclosed a court dress of china satin, with flowers applique, and the lace trimming of incredible value. A dress! gasped Jean, almost fainting with joy as she had with grief. But how can it suit me who was not measured for it? Jean tried it with a tape measure. It is the right in length and width of the waist, said Jean. This is fabulous. The material is wonderful. The whole is terrifying, said the countess. Nonsense. This only proves that if you have bitter enemies, you have some sweet friends. It cannot be a mere human friend, Jean, said Jean, for how would such no the mischief set against us? It must be a sylph. Oh, I don't care if it's the old Harry, if he will help me against the grimmons. He is not so black as those wretches, said the countess. Now, I think of it. I wager you may entrust your hair to this hairdresser, for he must be sent by the same friend who furnishes the dress. Suggested Jean, own up that your story was pure, Gamal. Not at all, protested the young man, showing the newspaper. I kept it to make the curls for the hair. It is no use, for I have no carriage. Hark! Here it is, rolling up to our door. exclaimed Jean. Quick, shouted Jean. Do not let them get away without our knowing to whom we owe all these kindnesses. And he rushed with janitor, steward, and footman out on the street. It was too late. Before the door stood two magnificent bay horses with a gilded coach, lined with white satin. Not a trace of driver or footman. A man in the street had run up to get the job of holding the horses and those who brought them had left him in charge. A hasty hand had blotted out the coat of arms on the panels and painted a rose. All this counteraction to the misadventures had taken place in an hour. Jean had the horses brought into the yard, locking the gates and pocketing the key. Then he returned to the room where the hairdresser was about to give the lady the first proofs of his skill. Miracle, said Jean. The robe fits perfectly, except an inch out in front too long, but we can take it up in a minute. Will the coach pass, muster? inquired the countess. It is in the finest taste. I got into it to try the springs, answered Jean. It is lined with white satin and centered with a tar of roses. Then everything is going on swimmingly, said the countess, clapping her hands. Go on, master Leonhard, if you succeed your fortune is made. With the first stroke of the comb, Leonhard showed that he was an experienced hand, and three-quarters of an hour Lady Dubarri came forth from his hands more seductive than Aphrodite, for she had more clothes on her, and she was quite as handsome. You shall be my own hairdresser, said the lady, eyeing herself in a hand-glass. And every time you do my hair up for the court occasion, you shall have fifty gold pieces. John, count out a hundred to the artist, for I want him to consider fifty as a retaining fee, but you must work for none but me. Then take your money back, my lady, I want to be free, liberty is the primary boon of mankind. God bless us. It is a philosophic hairdresser. Grown John, lifting his hands. What are we coming to? Well, master Leonhard, take the hundred, and do as you doest well, please. Come to your coach, countess. These words were addressed to Countess Bayonne, who limped out of the inner room. Four of you footmen, take the lady between you. Order John. And carry her gently down the stairs. If she unders a single groan, I will have you flogged. Leonhard disappeared during this delicate task. Where can he have slipped away? The young countess wanted to know. Where? By some rattle, or bang through the wall, said the viscount. As the spirits cut away, have a care, my dear, lest your headdress becomes a wasp nest. You'll dress a cobweb, and you'll carriage a pumpkin drawn by a pair of mice on arriving at Versailles. Annunciating this dreadful threat, Viscount Jean got into the carriage, in which was already placed Countess Bayonne, and the happy woman to whom she was to stand sponsor. End of Chapter Twenty-Two, Recording by John Van Stan, Savannah, Georgia. Chapter Twenty-Three of Balsamo the Magician by Alexander Dumas, translated by Henry L. Williams. This Leap-A-Box recording is in the public domain. The Presentation Versailles is still fine to look upon, but it was splendid to view in the period of its glory. Particularly was it resplendent when a great ceremony was performed, when the wardrobes and warehouses were ransacked to display their sumptuous treasures, and the dazzling illuminations doubled the magic of its wealth. It had degenerated, but it still was glowing when it opened all its doors and lit up all its flambeau to hail the court reception of Countess Douberry. The curious populace forgot its misery and its rags before so much bewildering show, and crammed the squares in Paris Road. All the palace windows spouted flame, and the sky rockets resembled stars floating and shooting in a golden dust. The king came out of his private rooms at ten precisely, dressed with more care than usual, his lace being richer and the jewels in his garter and shoe buckles being worth a fortune. Informed by Satina that the court ladies were plotting against his favorite, he was careworn and trembled with fury when he saw none but men in the antechamber. But he took heart when, in the queen's drawing-room set aside for the reception, he saw in a cloud of powder and diamond luster his three daughters, and all the ladies who had vowed the night before to stay away. The Duke of Richelieu ran from one to another, playfully reproaching them for giving in and complimenting them on thinking better of it. But what has made you come, Duke? They naturally challenged him. Oh, I am not here, really. I am but the proxy for my daughter, Countess Agamalt. If you will look around you will not see her. She alone, with Lady Grimalt and Lady Aguimine, has kept the pledge to keep aloof. I am sure what will happen to me for practically staying away. I shall be sent into exile for the fifth time, or to the Bastille for the fourth. That will end my plotting, and I vow to conspire never again. The king remarked the absentees, and he went up to the Duke of Choisul, who affected the utmost calm and demanded. I do not see the Duchess of Grimalt. Sire, my sister is not well, and she begs me to offer her most humble respects. Said Choisul, only succeeding in flimsy indifference. That is bad for her, ominously said the sovereign, turning his back to the Duke, and thus facing Prince Guimine. Have you brought your wife? He questioned. Impossible, your Majesty, when I went to bring her she was sick a bed. Nothing could be worse, said the king. Good evening, Marshal. He said to Richelieu, who bowed with the suppleness of a young courtier. You do not seem to have a touch of the complaint. Sire, I am always in good health when I have the pleasure of beholding your majesty. But I do not see your daughter the Countess of Eggmaw. What is the reason for her absence? Alas, Sire, responded the old Duke, assuming the most sorrowful mean. My poor child is the maw indisposed from the mishap, depriving her of the happiness of this occasion. But Lady Eggmont Unwell, whose health was the most robust in the realm? That is sad for her. And the king turned his back on the old courtier, as he had on the others whom he snubbed. Gluamy, anxious and irritated, the king went over to the window and, seizing the carved handle of the sash with one hand, he cooled his fevered brow against the pane. The courtiers could be heard chattering, like leaves rustling before the tempest, while all eyes stared at the clock. It struck the half-hour, when a great uproar of vehicles rumbling on the yard cobblestones resounded under the carriageway vault. Suddenly, the royal brow brightened and a flash shot from his eyes. The right honourable Lady of Countess of Dubarie, roared the usher to the grand master of ceremonies. Knee-right honourable, the Countess of Bayern! Different sensations were making all hearts leap. Invisibly drawn by curiosity, a flood of courtiers moved toward the monarch. The wife of the Marshal of Miropois was carried close up to the king, and though she had been in the front of the Antidubarius, she clasped her hands ready for adoration and exclaimed, Oh, how lovely she is! The king turned and smiled on the speaker. But she is not a mere mortal, said Richelieu. She is a fairy! Which won him the end of the smile. In truth, never had the Countess been fairer, more winsome in expression, more modest in bearing, more noble in figure, more elegant in step, or more cunning in showing emotion. Her like had never excited admiration in the queen's drawing-room. Charmingly beautiful, richly but not flauntingly dressed, and notable for a tastefully novel headdress, she advanced held by the hand of the Countess Bayern. Despite of atrocious pangs, the latter did not hobble or even wince, though the rouge fell in flakes from her face as each step rung her to the core. All eyes turned on the singular pair. The old dame, with an old-fashioned low-neck robe, and her hair built up a foot high above her bright, deep-set eyes like an osprey's, her splendid attire and her skeleton tread, seemed the image of the past giving her hand to the present. This model of cold, dry dignity, guiding decent and voluptuous beauty, struck most with admiration and astonishment. The vivid contrast made the king fancy that Countess Bayern was bringing him his favorite, more youthful and brilliant than ever. You have a very fair novice to present, my lady, said he, but she also has a noble intro-doctress, then whom there is not one whom I am more pleased to see again at court. The old lady, courtesy'd, Go, and bow to my daughters, whispered the monarch to Jean, and show that you know how to courtesy. I hope you will not be dissatisfied with the way they reply to you. His eyes were fixed upon his daughters and compelled them to show politeness, and as Lady Dubehi bowed more lowly than court etiquette prescribed, they were touched and embraced her with a cordiality which pleased their father. Henceforward the Countess's success became a triumph. The Duke of Richelieu, as the victor of Mahon, knew how to maneuver. He went and placed himself behind the chair ready for Countess Dubehi, so that he was near her when the presentation was over without having to battle with the crowd. Lady Mirapois, knowing how lucky her old friend was in warfare, had imitated him, and drew her stool close to the favorite's chair. Supported by the royal love and the favorable welcome of the royal princesses, Jean looked less timidly around among the noblemen, though it was among the ladies that she expected enemies. Ah, my lord of Richelieu, she said, I had come here to find you, for you have let a weak pass without calling at Lucien. I was preparing for the pleasure of seeing you here, certain here to meet. I wish you had imparted certainty to me, for I was none too sure on that head, considering that I am surrounded by plots to thwart me. She glared at the old gallant, who bore the glance imperturbably. Plots! Goodness! What are you talking about? In the first place, my hairdresser was spirited away. Was he indeed? What a lucky thing that I sent you a pearl of his craft, whom my daughter, the Countess of Ecmont, found, somewhere, an artiste most superior to the general run, even to the royal parruquiers, my little Lyonard. Lyonard, repeated the lady, Yes, a little fellow who does up my septum and his stresses, and whom she keeps hidden from all eyes, as a miser does his cashbox. You are not complaining of him, I think, for your ladyship is turned out, as barbers say, marvelously, curiously enough. The style reminds me of a sketch which the court painter Boucher gave my daughter, for her to be dressed in accord with it had she not fallen ill. Poor sepia, but you were talking of plots. Yes, they kept back my dress. This is odious, though you are not to be pitied when arraigned in such a choice, China silk, with flower work applied. Now, had you applied to me in your quandary, as I hope you will in the future, I would have sent you the dress my daughter had made for her presence here. It is so like this, that I could vow it is the same. Countess Dubey seized both his hands, beginning to understand who was the enchanter who had saved her from the embarrassment. I suppose it was in your daughter's coach that I was brought here, she said. Oh, I should know hers, for it was renovated for this occasion with white satin, but there was no time to paint her blaze on upon the panels. Only time to paint a rose. Duke, you are a delightful nobleman. The old peer kissed the hands of which he made a warm and perfumed mask, feeling them thrill he started and asked the cause. Who is that man yonder in a Prussian officer's dress, with black eyes and expressive countenance by Prince Guimine? Some superior officer whom the King of Prussia sends to honor your presentation. Do not laugh, Duke. But that man was in France three or four years ago, and I have been seeking for him everywhere without a veil. You are in error, Countess. The stranger is Count Fenice, who arrived but yesterday. How hard he looks at me. Nay, how tenderly everybody is looking at you. Look, he is bowing to me. Everybody is doing that if they have not done so. A prey to extraordinary emotion, the lady did not heed the Duke's compliments, and with her sight riveted on the stranger who captivated her attention, she quitted Richelieu in spite of herself to move toward the foreigner. The King was watching her and perceived the movement. He thought she wanted him, and approached her, as he had quite long enough stood aloof out of the regard for social restrictions. But the Countess was so engrossed that her mind would not be diverted. Sire, who is that Prussian officer now turning away from Prince Guimine to look this way? Thou stout figure with the square face, inframed in a golden collar, credited from my cousin of Prussia, some philosopher of his step. I am glad that German philosophy celebrates the triumph of King Petticoat the Third, as they nicknamed the Louis, for their devotion to the sex of which you are the brightest gem. His title is Count Fenie, added the sovereign, reflecting. It is he, thought Countess du Bahi, but as she kept silence the King proceeded, raising his voice. Ladies, the Dauphiness arrives at Campéenne tomorrow, the journey having been shortened, a royal highness will receive at midday precisely. All the ladies presented at court will be of the reception party, absent those who are absent today. The journey is fatiguing, and her highness can have no desire to aggravate the ills of those who are indisposed. He looked with severity à schwaassil, Guimine and Richelieu. A silence of terror surrounded the speaker, whose words were fully understood as meaning disgrace. Sire, I pray the exception for the Countess of Egmont, as she is the daughter of my most faithful friend, the Duke of Richelieu. His grace, your friend? Approaching the old courtier who had comprehended from the motion of the pleader's lips, he said, I hope Lady Egmont will be well enough tomorrow to come. Certainly, Sire, she would be fit for travel this hour if your Majesty desired it. And he saluted with respect and thankfulness. The King leaned over to the Countess's ear and whispered a word, Sire, I am your Majesty's most obedient servant. Her reverence was accompanied by a most bewitching smile. The King waved his hand and retired to his own rooms. Scarcely had he crossed the threshold before the Countess turned more frightened than ever to the singular man who had so monopolized her. Like the others he had bowed as the monarch withdrew, but his brow had worn a haughty, almost menacing aspect. As soon as Louis had disappeared he came and paused within a step or two of Lady du Barry. Urged by invincible curiosity, she took a step toward him so that he could say in a low voice as he bent to her. Am I recognized, Lady? Yes, as my prophet of Louis XV's square. Well, queried the man with his clear, steady gaze, did I lie when I told you of becoming the Queen of France? No, your prophecy is all but accomplished. Hence, I am ready to keep my promise, speak your wish. The place is ill-chosen, and the time has not come. I am ready to fulfill it any time. Can I come any time? Yes. Will it be as Count Fenice? My title will be Count Joseph Balsimo. I shall not forget it. Balsimo. Repeated the favorite as the mysterious stranger was merged with the crowd. End of Chapter 23, Recording by John Van Stan, Savannah, Georgia Chapter 24 of Balsimo the Magician by Alexander Dumas, translated by Henry L. Williams. This lipofoxicording is in the public domain. The Dauphinesses' Reception On the following day, Campania was intoxicated and transported. The people had not slept through the night from getting ready to welcome the bride of the Prince Royal. Latin, French and German inscriptions adorned the evergreen arches wound with garlands of roses and lilac. The royal prince had come down in the night in Cog, with his two brothers, and they had ridden out to meet the princess from Austria. The gallant idea had not come to the Dauphin of his own impulse, but from his tutor, Lord Lavarguion, who had been instructed by the king on the proper line of conduct to be followed by the heir to the throne. Previous sovereigns had also taken this kind of preliminary view of the fated spouse without the veil of etiquette. The eldest prince rode out, grave, and his two brothers smiling. At half-after-eight they came back. The Dauphin serious as when he started. Provence, almost sulky and artois, gayer than at the outset. The first was disquieted, the second envious, and the last delighted, for all had found the lady most lovely. Thus each betrayed his temperament. At the meeting of the two parties, that of the king and the bride of his son, all got out of the carriages except the king and the arch-duchess. Around the Dauphin were all the young nobles while the old nobility clustered round the king. The lady's carriage door opened, and the Austrian princess sprang lightly to the ground. As she advanced toward the royal coach, Louis had the door opened and eagerly stepped out. The princess had so exactly calculated the steps that she threw herself on her knees just as she alighted. He stooped to lift her up and kissed her affectionately, covering her with a look which caused her to redden. She blushed again as the Dauphin was presented to her. She had pleasant words to say to all the royal princes and princesses, but here came a hitch, till the king, glancing around, spied the Countess du Berri and took her hand. Everybody stepped aloof so that the sovereign was left alone with his favourite and the new arrival. I present the Countess du Berri, my dearest friend. The Austrian turned pale, but the most kindly smile glittered on her blanching lips. Your Majesty is very happy in having so lovely a friend, she said, and I am not surprised at the attachment she inspires. All looked on with astonishment approaching stupefaction. It was evident that the newcomer was repeating the Austrian court's instructions, perhaps her mother's own words. While the princess entered the royal coach, passing the Duke of Schwaassul without noticing him, the church bells clanged. Countess du Berri radiantly got into her coach, up to the door of which came Chevalier Jean. Do you know who that young whippersnapper is? He asked, pointing to a horseman at the Dauphinès' coach window. That is Philip of Tavernay, who gave me that sword thrust. Well, who was the beautiful girl with whom he is talking? His sister, and to my mind you have the same need to beware of that girl as I of her brother. You are mad. I have my wits about me. I shall keep an eye on the blade, anyhow. And I shall watch the budding beauty. Hush, said Jean. Here comes your friend, Richelieu. What is wrong, my dear Duke? You look discontented, said the Countess, with her sweetest smile. Does it not strike your ladyship that we are all very dull? Not to say sad for such a joyous affair? I can recall going out to meet another princess for the royal couch, amiable like this one, and as fair. It was the Dauphinès' mother. We were all jolly. Is it because we were younger? No, my dear Marshal. It is because the monarchy is older. All who heard, shuddered at this voice behind the Duke, he turned and saw an elderly gentleman, stylish in appearance, who laid his hand on his shoulder as he smiled misanthropically. Gads, my life! It is Baron Tavernès, Countess! added the Duke. Here is one of my oldest friends, for whom I beg your kindness, Baron Tavernès of Red Castle. The father of that pair, said Jean and Jean to themselves as they bowed in salutation. My lords and gentlemen, shouted the grandmaster of ceremonies, to your places in the coaches. The two age nobles bowed to the favorite and her brother, and went into the same vehicle, glad to be united after long absence. What do you say to that? I do not like the old fellow a bit better than the cubs. said Jean to Barry. What a pity that little imp Gilbert ran away. As he was brought up in their house, he might furnish particulars about the family. Said the Countess, the dialogue was broken off by the movement of all the carriages. After a night at Campagne, the United Courts, the sundown of one era, the sunburst of another, swept intermingled on to Paris, that gulf which was to swallow up the whole of them.