number of ladies and gentlemen soon crowded round her, and all looked with no little curiosity at Philippe, who, to hide his confusion, stooped to take off his skates, and then fell into the background.
After a short time, however, the queen said, "I shall take cold if I sit here, I must take another turn;" and she remounted her sledge.
Philippe waited, but in vain, for another order.
Twenty gentlemen soon presented themselves, but she said, "No, I thank you, I have my attendants;" and she moved slowly off, while Philippe remained alone.
He looked about for St. George, to console him for his defeat by some compliment, but he had received a message from his patron, the duke d'Orleans, and had left the place.
Philippe, therefore, rather tired, and half frightened at all that had passed, remained stationary, following with his eyes the queen's sledge, which was now at some distance, when he felt some one touch him; he turned round and saw his father.
The little old man, more shrunk than ever, enveloped in furs like a Laplander, had touched his son with his elbow, that he might not be obliged to take his hands out of the muff that hung from his neck.
"You do not embrace me, my son," said he.
"My dear father, I do it with all my heart."
"And now," said the old man, "go quickly;" and he pushed him away.
"Where do you wish me to go, sir?"
"Why, morbleu, over there."
"Where?"
"To the queen."
"No, I thank you, father."
"How? No, I thank you! are you mad? You will not go after the queen?"
"My dear father, it is impossible!"
"Impossible to join the queen, who is expecting you?"
"Who is expecting me!"
"Yes, who wishes for you."
"Wishes for me? Indeed, father," added he, coldly, "I think you forget yourself."
"It is astonishing!" said the old man, stamping his foot. "Where on earth do you spring from?"
"Monsieur," said his son, sadly, "you will make me conclude one of two things."
"What?"
"Either that you are laughing at me, or else, excuse me, that you are losing your senses."
The old man seized his son by the arm so energetically that he made him start. "Listen, M. Philippe," said he; "America is, I know, a country a long way from this, and where there is neither king nor queen."
"Nor subjects."
"Nor subjects, M. Philosopher; I do not deny it; that point does not interest me; but what does so is that I fear also to have to come to a conclusion – "
"What, father?"
"That you are a simpleton, my son; just trouble yourself to look over there."
"Well, sir!"
"Well, the queen looks back, and it is the third time she has done so; there! she turns again, and who do you think she is looking for but for you, M. Puritan?"
"Well, sir," said the young man; "if it were true, which it probably is not, that the queen was looking for – "
"Oh!" interrupted the old man, angrily, "this fellow is not of my blood; he cannot be a Taverney. Sir, I repeat to you that the queen is looking for you."
"You have good sight, sir," said his son, dryly.
"Come," said the old man, more gently, and trying to moderate his impatience, "trust my experience: are you, or are you not, a man?"
Philippe made no reply.
His father ground his teeth with anger, to see himself opposed by this steadfast will; but making one more effort, "Philippe, my son," said he, still more gently, "listen to me."
"It seems to me, sir, that I have been doing nothing else for the last quarter of an hour."
"Oh," thought the old man, "I will draw you down from your stilts. I will find out your weak side." Then aloud, "You have overlooked one thing, Philippe."
"What, sir?"
"When you left for America, there was a king, but no queen, if it were not the Dubarry; hardly a respectable sovereign. You come back and see a queen, and you think you must be very respectful."
"Doubtless."
"Poor child!" said his father, laughing.
"How, sir? You blame me for respecting the monarchy – you, a Taverney Maison-Rouge, one of the best names in France."
"I do not speak of the monarchy, but only of the queen."
"And you make a difference?"
"Pardieu, I should think so. What is royalty? a crown that is unapproachable. But what is a queen? a woman, and she, on the contrary, is very approachable."
Philippe made a gesture of disgust.
"You do not believe me," continued the old man, almost fiercely; "well, ask M. de Coigny, ask M. de Lauzun, or M. de Vaudreuil."
"Silence, father!" cried Philippe; "or for these three blasphemies, not being able to strike you three blows with my sword, I shall strike them on myself."
The old man stepped back, murmuring, "Mon Dieu, what a stupid animal! Good evening, son; you rejoice me; I thought I was the father, the old man, but now I think it is I who must be the young Apollo, and you the old man;" and he turned away.
Philippe stopped him: "You did not speak seriously, did you, father? It is impossible that a gentleman of good blood like you should give ear to these calumnies, spread by the enemies, not only of the queen, but of the throne."
"He will not believe, the double mule!" said the old man.
"You speak to me as you would speak before God?"
"Yes, truly."
"Before God, whom you approach every day?"
"It seems to me, my son," replied he, "that I am a gentleman, and that you may believe my word."
"It is, then, your opinion that the queen has had lovers?"
"Certainly."
"Those whom you have named?"
"And others, for what I know. Ask all the town and the court. One must be just returned from America to be ignorant of all they say."
"And who say this, sir? some vile pamphleteers!"
"Oh! do you, then, take me for an editor?"
"No, and there is the mischief, when men like you repeat such calumnies, which, without that, would melt away like the unwholesome
