"Aren't there?--with a vengeance! On my word, here comes Bontems, the King's head _valet-de-chambre_. Now we shall have some fun. You will learn the kind of differences there are between people--Louis XIV. and you, to wit." "What do you mean by fun?" "You shall hear. Here is a chair, Monsieur Bontems, and I am rejoiced to see you." "Sir, I am your most obedient servant," responded a dapper little gentleman, dressed in black and silver, with a long sword by his side, and large silver buckles in his shoes. He sat down on the seat which Philip indicated. "I trust that His Most Christian Majesty enjoys good health this evening?" began that young gentleman, with an air of the greatest interest in the reply to his question. "Sir, I am happy to say that His Majesty condescends to be in the enjoyment of most excellent health." "Very condescending of him, I am sure," commented Philip, gravely. "May I venture to hope that His Royal Highness the Duke de Berry[6] is equally condescending?" "Sir," answered Monsieur Bontems, looking much grieved, "I regret exceedingly to state that Monseigneur the Duke is not in perfect health. On the contrary, he has this very day been constrained to take medicine." "How deeply distressing!" lamented Mr. Philip Ingram, putting on a face to match his words. "And might I ask the kind of medicine which had the felicity of a passage down Monseigneur's most distinguished throat, and the honor of relieving his august sufferings?" "Sir," answered Monsieur Bontems, not in the least perceiving that he was being laughed at, "it was a tisane of camomile flowers." "I unfeignedly trust that it has not affected his illustrious appetite?" "Sir," was the reply, always commencing by the same word, "I am much troubled at the remembrance that His Royal Highness's appetite at supper was extremely bad. He ate only two plates of soup, one fowl, fifty heads of asparagus, and a small cherry tart." "Ah! it must have been very bad indeed," said Mr. Philip, with a melancholy air. "He generally eats about a couple of geese and half a dozen pheasants, does he not?"[7] "Sir?" said Monsieur Bontems, interrogatively. "I am happy to say, Sir, that all the members of the Royal House have tolerably good appetites; but scarcely--two geese and six pheasants!--no, Sir!" "Yes, I have gathered that they have, from what I have heard you say," answered Philip, gravely. "Monsieur Bontems, I am anxious to inform my sister--who speaks no French--of the manner in which His Majesty is served throughout the day. I am not sure that I remember all points correctly. It is your duty, is it not, to present His Majesty's wig in the morning, and to buckle his left garter?" "The left, Sir?" asked Monsieur Bontems, somewhat indignantly. "The right! Any of His Majesty's ordinary valets may touch the left--it is my high office to attend upon the august right leg of my most venerated Sovereign!" "I beg your pardon a hundred thousand times!"