“Sire, I thought his name was unknown to your majesty.”
“No, no, Blacas; he is a man of strong and elevated understanding, ambitious, too, and, pardieu! you know his father’s name!”
“His father?”
“Yes, Noirtier.”
“Noirtier the Girondin?—Noirtier the senator?”
“He himself.”
“And your majesty has employed the son of such a man?”
“Blacas, my friend, you have but limited comprehension. I told you Villefort was ambitious, and to attain this ambition Villefort would sacrifice everything, even his father.”
“Then, sire, may I present him?”
“This instant, duke! Where is he?”
“Waiting below, in my carriage.”
“Seek him at once.”
“I hasten to do so.”
The duke left the royal presence with the speed of a young man; his really sincere royalism made him youthful again. Louis XVIII remained alone, and turning his eyes on his half-opened Horace, muttered:
“ Justum et tenacem propositi virum. ”
M. de Blacas returned as speedily as he had departed, but in the antechamber he was forced to appeal to the king’s authority. Villefort’s