"Crown?!"

Count Marbov stood up in astonishment, and even accidentally knocked a small round table next to him to the ground.

"I'm sorry, I was rude."

Count Marbeouf hurriedly took out a handkerchief to wipe the tea spilled on his body, bowed his head and apologized to Lawrence, then sat back in his seat, deliberately pretending to be crazy and smirking and said:

"Hehe, I didn't know you were a jeweler, and you wanted to make a crown for King Louis?"

Lawrence looked at Count Marbeouf, not believing that he had not heard the meaning of his words, so he said directly:

"This crown was not made by me, but by God, and its name is Corsica, three hundred and sixty li long and one hundred and forty li wide."

When Lawrence's calm words fell, Count Marbeeuf covered his forehead for a long time, and then picked up the letter on the table, which he did not open, but studied it for a long time.

He thought that Lawrence was just a temporary traveler, but Count Marbeouf would never have imagined that this young man, who was only twenty years old, would have reached the position of presiding over the fate of a nation.

"Corsica, it looks like a lot has happened, are you sure?"

Count Marbeouf gently put the envelope back on the table, looked at Lawrence and whispered.

Lawrence shook his head lightly and replied:

"I only hope that the letter will be delivered on your behalf, and if it goes well, you will certainly make a lot of money as an introducer. Even if King Louis is not interested in this, he will not blame you for such a state worry. ”

The Count of Marbeouf nodded, admitting that Lawrence was right, that he was only a messenger, and that he was not responsible for the matter at all, and that he had no reason to refuse the request.

Moreover, the Count of Marbeouf himself knew that if this matter was finally agreed, then Lawrence might even become the de facto ruler of Corsica.

In exchange for such a favor from such a young man with unlimited potential, it is a good deal no matter how you look at it.

"I understood, I immediately went and wrote a note, and then presented the letter directly to the court in my name."

Count Marbeouf put the envelope in his pocket with a solemn face, and said in a deep voice as he stared at Lawrence.

......

On March 22, 1770, Lawrence spent the tenth day of his stay at the estate of the Count of Marbeouf.

In order to be the first to get news of Ajaccio, Lawrence did not ask the Count of Marbeouf to take him to Versailles, but sent the letter directly to the Palace of Versailles along with the Count's note.

Although this was somewhat inconsequential, Lawrence believed that Louis XV would not have taken such details into account in the face of such a matter of great importance.

Early in the morning, as usual, Lawrence woke up and went straight to the table to prepare breakfast with Count Marbeouf.

However, to Lawrence's surprise, when he came to the table, the Count of Marbeouf still had half-eaten white bread and a warm cream stew on his seat, but the man was nowhere to be seen.

For a traditional aristocrat like him, it would be rude to leave in the middle of a meal like this, unless there was really something important.

Just when Lawrence was a little confused, the housekeeper of the manor hurriedly walked into the dining room, bowed to Lawrence, and said:

"Dear sir, my master has gone to greet a guest, and he has instructed you to change into formal clothes after breakfast."

"A guest?"

Lawrence's eyes lit up, calculating the time, it was almost time that the envoy sent by Louis XV had arrived, and it was probably the king's envoy who could make the Count of Marbeouf go so anxiously to greet him.

"Do you know who the guest is?" Lawrence asked casually.

The steward of the manor nodded, these people of status and status would send servants to inform the master's family in advance when they visited others, and then said:

"It's Mistress Etienne François, and of course he is best known as the Duke of Choiseul."

"Duke of Choiseul?!"

Lawrence couldn't help but be stunned for a moment, frowned at the housekeeper of the manor, and confirmed the identity of the visitor to him again.

If the envoy is really the big man, this makes Lawrence feel a little tricky.

After receiving an affirmative answer, Lawrence's brow furrowed even tighter, and he muttered softly:

"Should I say this is a good thing or a bad thing..."

The Duke of Choiseul was a powerful figure in Louis XV's reign, having distinguished himself in the War of the Austrian Succession and the Seven Years' War, and reforming the French military system.

In 1770, he was supposed to be the French Minister of War, but the Foreign Secretary was also his cousin, so he still controlled France's foreign policy.

In addition, many historical records record that this Duke of Choiseul was able to influence, and even dominate, and intimidate Louis XV to a certain extent.

Although he was dismissed in the autumn of 1770 by the frustrated Louis XV, he was one of the leading figures in French politics at the moment.

As soon as Lawrence sat down at the table, he couldn't help but sigh, and suddenly he lost any appetite, and went straight to his room to start changing his formal clothes.

The arrival of the Duke of Choiseul was also a mixed blessing for Lawrence, which, on the one hand, meant that King Louis, or rather the Duke himself, attached great importance to what Lawrence's letter had to offer.

But on the other hand, in the face of such a strong figure, Lawrence may not be able to take advantage of any advantages in the next negotiations.

About half an hour later, Lawrence, dressed up, stood at the door of the main building of the manor, dressed in a scarf that was not very comfortable, while waiting for the Duke of Schuiseul to arrive.

And after a while, I saw a troika slowly approaching on the only dirt road in front of the manor.

The carriage was seven or eight meters long and five or six meters wide, and could accommodate a dozen people, but there were obviously only two rows of seats inside.

The wheels are inlaid with brass bezels, and even the armrests outside the carriage are engraved with intricate patterns.

Not to mention the four horses that pulled the cart in advance, their coats were all pure black, and there was hardly a single stray hair to be seen, and the manes of these horses were carefully cared for and tied like knots in a uniform style.

The carriage was followed by four or five carriages of ordinary size, which seemed to have been ridden by the duke's attendants.

Lawrence looked from afar, and could see that Count Marbeouf was riding around the carriage, not sitting in the carriage, and wondered if it was because he was not in a good position or if he had volunteered to ride after him.

The carriage stopped smoothly at the entrance of the manor, and the coachman wearing white gloves hurriedly jumped out of the carriage, opened the door of the carriage, and then slowly walked out of the carriage with a middle-aged man in his arms.

The Duke's eyes were quite sharp, and he rolled his eyes to look around from the moment he got out of the car, but he was obviously not interested in such a countryman, and soon walked towards the main building with the dismounted Count Marbof.

Lawrence stood silently and watched the two of them walk towards him.

"Allow me to introduce you."

The Earl of Marbeauf walked up to Lawrence with the Duke of Choiseul, coughed lightly, and said:

"This is Lawrence Bonaparte from Corsica, who is also the owner of the letter."

Lawrence looked at Duke Choiseul, bowed slightly, and said calmly:

"It is my pleasure to meet you, Lord Duke."

The Duke of Choiseul nodded, and then stared at Lawrence with a little deep meaning for a full minute, as earnestly as an artist admiring his work, before he spoke slowly:

"I've heard of you, young man."