However, in the midst of this concert of praise, one discordant note was heard. A certain lawyer from Nivelle, called Masson, published a libel on the occasion. “Amongst several other things I have forgotten,” writes the Prince, “he said that at my entry as governor of Hainault I looked like an old Sultan, surrounded by women, to whom I devoted the whole of my attention, and that I had been stupid enough to accept in good faith acclamations of ‘Long live the Patriot Prince.’ This last statement is true. It was in a church, where I was either taking or administering the oath. I accepted this cry with the rest, without suspecting that its utterer had any malicious intention. As for the Sultan, he does me too much honour; it is true that, during my tedious progress, some very pretty girls threw bouquets into my carriage, and the crowd obliging them to stop near the door, I thanked them very much, and told them they were charming. The only reproach which might be considered not quite unfounded was that concerning my entry. The war had just ended, as well as the rebellion in the Netherlands, both of which had cost me a great deal of money. I might have made debts and covered my followers with gold lace; but I thought, on the contrary, the people would be grateful to me for not making too great a display. As I had two Turks, four Hussars, several bearded Russians, a Tartar with two dromedaries, and a Turkish band, he might very well compare me to Tamerlane or the Emperor of China, though I do not remember exactly which of the two I was supposed to resemble.” The Princes were very heartily received by the inhabitants of the good town of Mons, where they were much beloved; on the following day they started with their family for Bel Œil. As soon as he was settled the first thing the Prince did was to erect a monument in honour of his beloved son Charles, to perpetuate the memory of his brilliant conduct at Sabacz and at Ismaïl. He designed it himself, chose the site, and laid it out so as to imitate a spot in the Empress’s gardens at Czarskoë-Celo. “By following the left bank of the river,” he says, “you come upon an obelisk dedicated by Friendship to Valour. It is not my fault if Charles is the hero of it; it is not my fault if Charles distinguished himself in the war; it is not my fault if I am the father of such a perfect being. The father disappears, the man remains, and the hero is celebrated; I must not be accused of partiality, but I may be accused of pride.” This obelisk, in marble, is forty-five feet high. On one side is inscribed, in gold letters, the following: “To my dear Charles, for Sabacz and Ismaïl;” on the second, “_Nec te juvenis memoranda silebo_;” and on the third, “His glory is my pride, his friendship my happiness.”