Devereux — Volume 04Lytton, Edward Bulwer Lytton, Baron
History
Devereux — Volume 04
Lytton, Edward Bulwer Lytton, Baron
Great Britain -- History -- Anne, 1702-1714 -- Fiction
While I was moralizing, a gentleman suddenly thrust his head out of a
door, and appeared to reconnoitre us. Instantly the crowd swept up to
him. I thought I might as well follow the general example, and pushing
aside some of my fellow-loiterers, I presented myself and my name to the
gentleman, with the most ingratiating air I could command.
The gentleman, who was tolerably civil for a great man's great man,
promised that my visit should be immediately announced to the Prince;
and then, with the politest bow imaginable, slapped the door in my face.
After I had waited about seven or eight minutes longer, the gentleman
reappeared, singled me from the crowd, and desired me to follow him; I
passed through another room, and was presently in the Regent's presence.
I was rather startled when I saw, by the morning light, and in
deshabille, the person of that royal martyr to dissipation. His
countenance was red, but bloated, and a weakness in his eyes added
considerably to the jaded and haggard expression of his features. A
proportion of stomach rather inclined to corpulency seemed to betray the
taste for the pleasures of the table, which the most radically coarse,
and yet (strange to say) the most generally accomplished and really
good-natured of royal profligates, combined with his other
qualifications. He was yawning very elaborately over a great heap of
papers when I entered. He finished his yawn (as if it were too brief
and too precious a recreation to lose), and then said, "Good morning,
Monsieur Devereux; I am glad that you have found me out /at last/."
"I was afraid, Monseigneur, of appearing an intruder on your presence,
by offering my homage to you before."
"So like my good fortune," said the Regent, turning to a man seated at
another table at some distance, whose wily, astute countenance, piercing
eye, and licentious expression of lip and brow, indicated at once the
ability and vice which composed his character. "So like my good
fortune, is it not, Dubois? If ever I meet with a tolerably pleasant
fellow, who does not disgrace me by his birth or reputation, he is
always so terribly afraid of intruding! and whenever I pick up a
respectable personage without wit, or a wit without respectability, he
attaches himself to me like a burr, and can't live a day without
inquiring after my health."
Dubois smiled, bowed, but did not answer, and I saw that his look was
bent darkly and keenly upon me.
"Well," said the Prince, "what think you of our opera, Count Devereux?
It beats your English one--eh?"
"Ah, certainly, Monseigneur; ours is but a reflection of yours."
"So says your friend, Milord Bolingbroke, a person who knows about
operas almost as much as I do, which, vanity apart, is saying a great
deal. I should like very well to visit England; what should I learn
best there? In Spain (I shall always love Spain) I learned to cook."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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