From the Memoirs of a Minister of France — John Shaqi
From the Memoirs of a Minister of FranceWeyman, Stanley John
General
From the Memoirs of a Minister of France
Weyman, Stanley John
Biographical fiction; France -- Kings and rulers -- Fiction; Henry IV, King of France, 1553-1610 -- Fiction
Laval assented heartily to this, and I did not think fit to tell him
more, nor did he inquire; the Mayor's stupidity passing current for
all. For M. Grabot himself, I think that I never saw a man more
completely confounded. He stood staring with his mouth open; and, as
much deserted as the statesman who has fallen from office, had not the
least credit even with his own sycophants, who to a man deserted him
and flocked about the Mayor of Gol. Though I had no reason to pity
him, and, indeed, thought him well punished, I took the opportunity of
saying a word to him before I mounted; which, though it was only a hint
that he should deal gently with the woman of the house, was received
with servility equal to the arrogance he had before displayed; and I
doubt not it had all the effect I desired. For the strollers, I did
not forget them, but bade them hasten to Vitre, where I would see a
performance. They did so, and hitting the fancy of Zamet, who chanced
to be still there, and who thought that he saw profit in them, they
came on his invitation to Paris, where they took the Court by storm.
So that an episode trifling in itself, and such as on my part requires
some apology, had for them consequences of no little importance.
IV.
LA TOUSSAINT.
Towards the autumn of 1601, when the affair of M. de Biron, which was
so soon to fill the mouths of the vulgar, was already much in the minds
of those whom the King honoured with his confidence, I was one day
leaving the hall at the Arsenal, after giving audience to such as
wished to see me, when Maignan came after me and detained me; reporting
that a gentleman who had attended early, but had later gone into the
garden, was still in waiting. While Maignan was still speaking the
stranger himself came up, with some show of haste but none of
embarrassment; and, in answer to my salutation and inquiry what I could
do for him, handed me a letter. He had the air of a man not twenty,
his dress was a trifle rustic; but his strong and handsome figure set
off a face that would have been pleasing but for a something fierce in
the aspect of his eyes. Assured that I did not know him, I broke the
seal of his letter and found that it was from my old flame Madame de
Bray, who, as Mademoiselle de St. Mesmin, had come so near to being my
wife; as will be remembered by those who have read the early part of
these memoirs.
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