It's a nasty day.

Any of our slightly polite contemporaries, finding themselves in the place of the cardinal in such a situation, would first of all mentally say: “What.” Well, the contemporary is not sophisticated in etiquette, and even worse - “why the hell?” Richelieu, on the other hand, had a more extensive vocabulary than our little-read contemporary, inexperienced author, and perhaps even our esteemed reader, so his thoughts were much more euphonious, but nevertheless remained unknown to us. - If you like... - Wonderful! Throw on some kind of raincoat so as not to catch a cold. It’s not that I care so much about your health, dear cousin, but if you catch a cold, you’ll catch a runny nose, and I can’t stand your shy nose-blowing. But honestly. True, the king still “worried” about the cardinal’s health, but his pride and some mockery did not allow him to admit it. Richelieu was a duke, a cardinal, a minister, but he was also something of a best friend of King Louis XIII. They spent a lot of time together. The cardinal was obligated to this by his service as minister, clergy, ducal title and royal whim. Or perhaps the whim of something more powerful. —The weather is wonderful today! —The king exclaimed, jumping over the puddles like a boy. — I never understood your love for dampness. — I don’t like dampness. - Sire, you yourself just praised this rainy weather. - Don't be insolent. - OK. Oh, it's me. - Fine. Or rather, even - Your Majesty, forgive me... - What is this stupid habit of apologizing for every little thing? Stop it: it annoys me. Here the cardinal had an irresistible desire to be sarcastic. — How is Her Majesty? This was somewhat risky: the already “cool” relationship between the crowned spouses has recently become even worse. The king tried to avoid this painful topic for him, and Richelieu knew this very well. The answer was clear from the monarch's face. However, he was not a failure - he found something to answer. - Wonderful. How is your niece's health? D'Aiguillon, isn't that what her name was, I suppose? Richelieu was forced to put a frail smile on his mug, oh no, face. - Alas, I rarely have time to visit my relative. — special emphasis was placed on the last word. - Yes, and why do you speak in the past tense? I don’t understand this “name”. “However, they say that you visit her quite often...” said Louis, ignoring the questions. Who's speaking? “Without the slightest interest,” the minister said. Here they just reached a remote covered gazebo. A small retinue, consisting of five musketeers, three of the cardinal's guards and the royal valet, stopped at a distance so as not to hear the conversation and not lose sight of their interlocutors. Louis walked to the bench and sat down, stretching out imposingly. He loved this gazebo, old and modest. It exuded peace and solitude; here the monarch could take a break from the noisy Louvre. A cool breeze blew, and Louis shrank coldly. - I would never dare to call you a “fool”.. Sir, aren’t you cold? I can send for some clothes to be brought to you... - Come on, there’s no point, I’m not cold. - But today it’s quite cool, you yourself asked me to put on something warm. - Okay, I took yours, I’m really cool. - La Chenay! - La Chenay!!! The valet was already running to the gazebo, carrying the royal cloak in his hands. Having reached the place, the servant bowed low, first to the king, and then to the cardinal, and handed Louis his cloak. He effectively threw it over his shoulders and gracefully threw back his curly hair. Signaling to the servant that he could leave, the monarch turned to his interlocutor.