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Updated: October 22, 2025
M. de Perrencourt folded his arms on the back of the chair, and his face resumed its impassivity. Another moment elapsed before the King spoke. His voice was calm, but there seemed still to echo in it a trace of some violent emotion newly passed; a slight smile curved his lips, but there was more malice than mirth in it.
"Yes, I remember that," said I, now thoroughly bewildered by the history and the catechism which seemed necessary to an act so simple as drinking a glass of my own wine. M. de Perrencourt said nothing more, but his eyes were still set on my face with a puzzled searching expression. His glance confused me, and I looked round the table.
I heard Madame's gay laugh, again the King spoke, Madame cried, "Fie," and hid her face with her hand. M. de Perrencourt advanced towards me; the King caught his arm. "Pooh, he knows already," muttered Perrencourt, half under his breath, but he gave way, and the King came to me first.
"On my life," said he, "I didn't know you were interested in the lady, Simon, or I wouldn't have taken a hand in the affair." "On my life," said I, "I'm obliged to you. What of Mlle. de Quérouaille?" "She has returned with Madame." "But will return without Madame?" "Who knows?" he asked with a smile that he could not smother. "God and the King," said I. "What of M. de Perrencourt?"
The King raised his hand, as though to impose silence. Madame bowed in apologetic submission, M. de Perrencourt took no heed of the gesture, although he did not speak again. A moment later he laid his hand on Colbert's shoulder and whispered to him. I thought I heard just a word it was "Fontelles." Colbert looked up and nodded.
But M. de Perrencourt was not to be tempted; no pastimes, no jaunts allured him; he did not put his foot outside the walls of the Castle, and was little seen inside it. I myself did not set eyes on him for two days after my first sight of him; but after that I beheld him fairly often, and the more I saw him the more I wondered.
M. de Perrencourt suddenly dragged his chair back and, passing in front of it, stood close over the table. Colbert looked up at him, but his eyes were fixed on me, and the Envoy went unnoticed. "Then come and take it," said the King. I advanced after a low bow. Darrell, to my fresh wonder, kept pace with me, and when I reached the table was still at my side.
"Already he's very docile," said I. "See how M. de Perrencourt turned and twisted him, and sent him off crestfallen." She laid her hand on my arm. "If I might tell you," she said, "a thing that few know here; none but the King and his near kindred and one or two more." "But how came you to know of it?" I interrupted. "I I also came to know it," she murmured.
And I said I was no King, but that you need not be left alone." My eyes fell to the ground in pretended fear. The swiftest glance from Nell applauded me. I would have been sorry for him and ashamed for myself, had I not remembered M. de Perrencourt and our voyage to Calais. In that thought I steeled myself to hardness and bade conscience be still. A long silence followed.
Then His Majesty asked whence it came, and Mr Darrell answered that he was indebted for it to his good friend Mr Simon Dale, who would be honoured by the King's drinking it." "Why, it's my own wine then!" I cried, smiling now. "He spoke the truth, did he?" pursued M. de Perrencourt composedly. "It is your wine, sent by you to Mr Darrell?" "Even so, sir," I answered. "Mr.
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