While young, he had fought with his brothers the battles of legitimacy. Like his brother, he entertained a mortal hatred for revolutionary rabble: gradually, like many others, he had begun to reason on the matter, and become so tolerant that his doctrines reached the point almost of carelessness. Just as her [sic] nephew came in, he was reflecting and _quasi_ confirmed in the wisdom of his principles. "Yes," said he, as if he continued a conversation already begun, "yes, my friend, I am as much opposed as you are to a stormy revolution. I left my father's house, I abandoned my patrimony to accompany our princes into exile. I have fought for them, in their holy cause I received a sabre cut on the arm, which every now and then, by a very disagreeable sensation, recalls my youthful patriotism to me. Soon, however, the idle pretensions of my comrades, the disputes of our chiefs, repressed my ardor. I left one of the cohorts in which reason was treated as treachery, and where boasting alone was listened to with complacency. There firmness and complaisance were paralyzed now by erroneous movements and next by contradictory orders. A faithful servant contrived to save a portion of my estate, and at the peril of his own life brought me twenty thousand francs in gold. With this sum I came to Sweden, knowing that here everything was cheap, and determined to buy a small estate on which I might live, until I could find an opportunity of serving to some purpose that cause to which my heart was devoted, and which I had never yet entirely abandoned.