Madame
lived to be only twenty-four, happily.
"Jehan, light the chandelier," said the marquis. His voice, if high,
was still clear and strong. "Has Monsieur le Comte ventured forth in
this storm?"
"Yes, Monsieur; but he left word that he would return later with a
company of friends."
"Friends?" The marquis shrugged. "Is that what he calls them? When do
these grasping Jesuits visit me?"
"At eight, Monsieur. They are due this moment, unless they have failed
to make the harbor."
"And they bring the savage? Good. He will interest me, and I am dying
of weariness. I shall see a man again. Arrange some chairs next to
me, bring a bottle of claret, and a thousand livres from the steward's
chest. And listen, Jehan, let Monsieur le Comte's servant give orders
to the butler for his master. I forbid you to do it."
"Yes, Monsieur," and Jehan proceeded to light the chandelier, the
illumination of which brought out distinctly the tarnished splendor of
the salon. Jehan retired.
The marquis, to steady his teetering head, rested his chin on his
hands, which were clasped over the top of his walking-stick.
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