"The Count of Provence is an old turtle! Not exactly a reptile, for
there is food in him. But of a devilish flat head and cruel snap of the
jaws!"
"How can that be," I argued, "when his niece loves him so? And even I,
in the American woods, with mind eclipsed, was not forgotten. He sent me
of the money that he was obliged to receive in charity!"
"It is easy to dole out charity money; you are squeezing other people's
purses, not your own. What I most object to in the Count of Provence, is
that assumption of kingly airs, providing the story is true which leaked
secretly among the emigres. The story which I heard was that the dauphin
had not died, but was an idiot in America. An idiot cannot reign. But
the throne of France is not clamoring so loud for a Bourbon at present
that the idiot's substitute must be proclaimed and hold a beggar's
court. There are mad loyalists who swear by this eighteenth Louis. I am
not one of them. In fact, Lazarre, I was rather out of tune with your
house!"
"Not you!" I said.
"I do not fit in these times. I ought to have gone with my king and my
friends under the knife. Often I am ashamed of myself for slipping away.
That I should live to see disgusting fools in the streets of Paris,
after the Terror was over!--young men affecting the Greek and Roman
manner--greeting one another by wagging of the head! They wore gray
coats with black collars, gray or green cravats, carried cudgels, and
decreed that all men should have the hair plaited, powdered, and
fastened up with a comb, like themselves! The wearer of a queue was
likely to be knocked on the head. These creatures used to congregate at
the old Feydeau theater, or meet around the entrance of the Louvre, to
talk classical jargon, and wag!"
The Marquis du Plessy drew himself together with a strong shudder. I had
the desire to stand between him and the shocks of an alien world. Yet
there was about him a tenacious masculine strength, an adroitness of
self-protection which needed no champion.
"Did the Indian tell you about a man named Bellenger?" I inquired.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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