Your
daughter! Why was she never presented at court?"
"She was presented three years ago, informally. I wished it so.
Monsieur, we women love to hold a surprise in reserve. When we are no
longer attractive, a daughter more or less does not matter."
"Truly I had forgotten. Eh well, we can not remember everything,
especially when one spends five years in Vincennes," with another
furtive glance at Mazarin. "But why De Brissac? If this daughter has
half the beauty you had in your youth . . ."
Madame frowned.
"Half the beauty you still possess . . ."
Madame laughed. "Take care, or it will be said that Beaufort is become
a wit."
Beaufort went on serenely--"there had been many a princeling."
Madame contemplated the rosy horn on the tips of her fingers.
"Monsieur le Comte was rich."
"Admitted."
"His title was old."
"Again admitted. And all very well had he been only half as old as his
title, this son-in-law of yours. Your son-in-law! It reads like one
of Marguerite's tender tales. The daughter is three times younger than
the husband who is old enough to be the father of his wife's mother.
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