"Philip, I begin to think you are somewhat of a rake. What attracted you to Versailles?" "Many things," parried Philip. "Female things?" "What curiosity! Sometimes, yes, but not _au sérieux_." "Little Philip without a heart, eh?" "Who told you that?" Philip leaned forward. "Satterthwaite wrote it, or something like it." "_Le petit_ Philippe au _C[oe]ur Perdu_. Most of them would give their eyes to know who the fair unknown may be!" "Is it still Cleone?" Sir Maurice looked sharply across at him. "It has--never been anyone else," answered Philip simply. "I am glad. I want you to marry her, Philip." "Sir," said Philip superbly, "I have every intention of so doing." Fourteen The Strange Behaviour of Mistress Cleone "François, there is one below who desires m'sieu." François shook out a fine lace ruffle. "_Qui est-ce?_" "_Le père de M'sieur_," answered Jacques gloomily. François cast the ruffle aside. "_Le père de M'sieur!_ I go at once." He vanished out of the door and scuttled downstairs to the library. Sir Maurice was startled by his sudden entrance, and raised his eyeglass the better to observe this very abrupt, diminutive creature. François bowed very low. "M'sieu, eet ees zat my mastaire 'e ees wiz hees _barbier_. Eef m'sieu would come up to ze chamber of my mastaire?" Sir Maurice smiled. "_Assurément. Vous allez marcher en tête?_" François' face broke into a delighted smile. "_Ah, m'sieur parle Français! Si m'sieur veut me suivre?_" "_M'sieur veut bien_," nodded Sir Maurice. He followed François upstairs to Philip's luxurious bedroom. François put forward a chair. "M'sieur will be graciously pleased to seat himself? M'sieur Philippe will come very soon. It is the visit of the barber, you understand." "A serious matter," agreed Sir Maurice. "M'sieur understands well. Me, I am valet of M'sieur Philippe." "I had guessed it. You are François?" "Yes, m'sieur. It is perhaps that M'sieur Philippe has spoken of me?" He looked anxiously at Sir Maurice. "Certainly he has spoken of you," smiled Sir Maurice. "It is perhaps--that he tell you I am _un petit singe_?" "No, he said no such thing," answered Sir Maurice gravely. "He told me he possessed a veritable treasure for a valet." "Ah!" François clapped his hands. "It is true, m'sieur. I am a very good valet--oh, but very good!" He skipped to the bed and picked up an embroidered satin vest. This he laid over a chair-back. "The vest of M'sieur Philippe," he said reverently. "So I see," said Sir Maurice. "What's he doing, lying abed so late?"