“Pardon me,” interrupted Hamilton, “I am an old courtier, and look steadily on the game I no longer play. Suppleness, united with art, may do anything in a court like this; and the smooth and unelevated craft of a Fleuri may win even to the same height as the deep wiles of the glittering Mazarin, or the superb genius of the imperious Richelieu.” “Hist!” said I, “the Bishop has reappeared. Who is that old priest with a fine countenance and an address that will, at least, please you better than that of the Prior of Argenteuil, who has just stopped our episcopal courtier?” “What! do you not know? It is the most celebrated preacher of the day,--the great Massillon. It is said that that handsome person goes a great way towards winning converts among the court ladies; it is certain, at least, that when Massillon first entered the profession he was to the soul something like the spear of Achilles to the body; and, though very efficacious in healing the wounds of conscience, was equally ready in the first instance to inflict them.” “Ah,” said I, “see the malice of wit; and see, above all, how much more ready one is to mention a man’s frailties than to enlarge upon his virtues.” “To be sure,” answered Hamilton, coolly, and patting his snuff-box, “to be sure, we old people like history better than fiction; and frailty is certain, while virtue is always doubtful.” “Don’t judge of all people,” said I, “by your experience among the courtiers of Charles the Second.” “Right,” said Hamilton. “Providence never assembled so many rascals together before without hanging them. And he would indeed be a bad judge of human nature who estimated the characters of men in general by the heroes of Newgate and the victims of Tyburn. But your Bishop approaches. Adieu!” “What!” said Fleuri, joining me and saluting Hamilton, who had just turned to depart, “what, Count Antoine! Does anything but whim bring you here to-day?” “No,” answered Hamilton; “I am only here for the same purpose as the poor go to the temples of Caitan,--_to inhale the steam of those good things which I see the priests devour_.” “Ha! ha! ha!” laughed the good-natured Bishop, not in the least disconcerted; and Count Hamilton, congratulating himself on his _bon mot_, turned away. “I have spoken to his Most Christian Majesty,” said the Bishop; “he is willing, as he before ordained, to admit you to his presence. The Duc de Maine is with the King, as also some other members of the royal family; but you will consider this a private audience.” I expressed my gratitude: we moved on; the doors of an apartment were thrown open; and I saw myself in the presence of Louis XIV.