He turned away, and this was the opportunity that the favorite was waiting for, since she heaved a sigh, and said:
"Oh, gracious, Chon, what are you telling me? My poor brother Jean so badly wounded that his arm will have to be amputated!"
"Oh, wounded in some street affray or in a drinking-saloon quarrel?"
"No, sire! attacked on the king's highway and nearly murdered."
"Murdered?" repeated the ruler, who had no feelings, but could finely feign them. "This is in your province, Sartines."
"Can such a thing have happened?" said the chief of police, apparently less concerned than the king, but in reality more so.
"I saw a man spring on my brother," said Chon, "force him to draw his sword and cut him grievously."
"Poor viscount forced to fight," sighed the monarch, trying to regulate the amount of his grief by the countess'; but he saw that she was not pretending.
"And wounded?" he went on, in a heartbroken tone.
"But what was the scuffle about?" asked the police lieutenant, trying to see into the affair.
"Most frivolous; about posthorses, disputed for with the viscount, who was in a hurry to help me home to my sister, whom I had promised to join this morning."
"This requires retaliation, eh, Sartines?" said the king.
"It looks so, but I will inquire into it. The aggressor's name and rank?"
"I believe he is a military officer, in the dauphiness' dragoon guards, and named something like Baverne, or Faver--stop--it is Taverney."
"To-morrow he will sleep in prison," said the chief of police.
"Oh, dear, no," interrupted the countess out of deep silence; "that is not likely, for he is but an instrument and you will not punish the real instigators of the outrage. It is the work of the Duke of Choiseul. I shall leave the field free for my foes, and quit a realm where the ruler is daunted by his ministers."
Chon understood that her sister was going too far, and she struck in.
She plucked her sister by the dress and said:
"Sire, my sister's love for our poor brother carries her away. I committed the fault and I must repair it. As the most humble subject of your majesty, I merely apply for justice."
"That is good; I only ask to deal justice. If the man has done wrong, let him be chastised."
"Am I asking anything else?" said the countess, glancing pityingly at the monarch, who was so worried elsewhere and seldom tormented in her rooms. "But I do not like my suspicions snubbed."