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348
THE KING'S MIRROR.
"And an insolent fellow looking on at it," said I.
"I'll write an article on your impulsive love-making before all the world."
"Do; I can conceive nothing more politic."
"It shall teem with sincerity."
"Never a jest anywhere in it? Not one for me?"
"No. Jests are in place only when one tells the truth. A lie must be solemn, sire."
"True. Write it to your mood."
And to his mood he wrote it, eloquently, beautifully, charged with the passion of that joy which he realized in imagination, but could not find in his stormy life. I read it two or three days later at Artenberg.
"Hey for the wedding-song and one night more!" he cried.
We rolled off, we three, in Varvilliers' carriage.
