The King had too much good taste
to leave his work incomplete. The marriage of the eldest with a
Receiver-General, Planat de Baudry, was arranged by one of those royal
speeches which cost nothing and are worth millions. One evening, when
the Sovereign was out of spirits, he smiled on hearing of the
existence of another Demoiselle de Fontaine, for whom he found a
husband in the person of a young magistrate, of inferior birth, no
doubt, but wealthy, and whom he created Baron. When, the year after,
the Vendeen spoke of Mademoiselle Emilie de Fontaine, the King replied
in his thin sharp tones, "Amicus Plato sed magis amica Natio." Then, a
few days later, he treated his "friend Fontaine" to a quatrain,
harmless enough, which he styled an epigram, in which he made fun of
these three daughters so skilfully introduced, under the form of a
trinity. Nay, if report is to be believed, the monarch had found the
point of the jest in the Unity of the three Divine Persons.
"If your Majesty would only condescend to turn the epigram into an
epithalamium?" said the Count, trying to turn the sally to good
account.
"Though I see the rhyme of it, I fail to see the reason," retorted the
King, who did not relish any pleasantry, however mild, on the subject
of his poetry.
From that day his intercourse with Monsieur de Fontaine showed less
amenity. Kings enjoy contradicting more than people think.
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