"And, on my life, he's in the right of it," quoth the King. "One does become so wearied at court." "Aye, and no," rejoined the widow as she put on her last beauty-spot.... "Nor are you unaware, Sire, that Monsieur de Beaugency is one of the most brilliant courtiers of Marly and Versailles; ambitious, burning with zeal for the service of your Majesty; as brave as Monsieur de Menneval, and capable of going to the end of the earth ... with the title of Ambassador of the King of France." "I know that," chimed in Louis XV., with a laugh. "But, alas, I have more ambassadors than embassies. My ante-chambers overflow every morning." "Now," continued the Marchioness, "I have been a widow ... these two years past." "A long time, there's no denying." "Ah," sighed she, "there's no need to tell me so, Sire. But Monsieur de Menneval loves me ... at least he says so, and I am easily persuaded." "Very well; then marry Monsieur de Menneval." "I have thought of it, Sire; and, in truth, I might do much worse. I should like well enough to live in the country, under the willow-trees, on the borders of the river, with a husband, fond, yielding, loving, who would detest the philosophers and set some little value on the poets. When no external noises disturb the honey-moon, that month, Sire, may be indefinitely prolonged. In the country, you know, one never hears a noise." "Unless it be the north-wind moaning in the corridor, and the rain pattering on the window-panes." And the King shivered slightly on his sofa. "But," added the dame, "Monsieur de Beaugency loves me equally well." "Ah, ah! the ambitious man!" "Ambition does not shut out love, Sire. Monsieur de Beaugency is a Marquis; he is twenty-five; he is ambitious--I should like a husband vastly who was longing to reach high offices of state. Greatness has its own particular merit." "Then marry Monsieur de Beaugency." "I have thought of that, also; but this poor Monsieur de Menneval."... "Very good," exclaimed the King, laughing: "now I see to what purpose the oranges are destined. Monsieur de Menneval pleases you; Monsieur de Beaugency would suit you just as well; and since one can't have more than one husband, you make them each jump in turn." "Just so, Sire. But observe what happens." "Ah, what does happen?" "That, unwilling and unable to play unfairly, I take equal pains to catch the two oranges as they come down; and that I catch them both, each time." "Well, are you willing that I should take part in your game?" "You, Sire? Ah, what a joke that would be!" "I am very clumsy, Marchioness. To a certainty, in less than three minutes Beaugency and Menneval, will be rolling on the floor." "Ah!" exclaimed the lady; "and if you have any preference for one or the other?"