Just as I had finished the reading of this tale of wonder, C. entered the room. “What think you of this strange statement?” said he. “The history of your own country, all wild and furious as it is, cannot offer an example of such audacity as this.” I was fain humbly to confess our inferiority in these matters. “But know you,” said I, “the opinion of Prince Talleyrand with regard to this affair?” “He has been calumniated even in this,” was C.’s reply, “and accused of having advised the measure; whereas his indignation on learning from Napoleon himself the step which had been taken, dictated the boldest and most eloquent speech which, perhaps, ever fell from his lips: ‘Sire,’ said he, warmly, ‘a young man of family (_un enfant de famille_) may gamble away his last farthing—the heritage of his ancestors—the dower of his mother—the portion of his sisters—and yet be courted and admired for his wit—be sought for his talents or distinction—but let him once be detected in _cheating_ at the game, and he is lost—society is for ever shut against him.’ With these words he turned upon his heel, leaving the emperor pale and quivering with rage, and vowing vengeance against the bold speaker of the unwholesome truth. Such was the real opinion of the Prince de Talleyrand concerning this unprincipled transaction—the expression of the man who has been accused, not only of having been the instigator of the whole proceeding, but of having aided in its execution. ‘Et voilà comme on écrit l’histoire!’” CHAPTER IV. CAGLIOSTRO—VOLTAIRE—THE MARQUIS DE J——. It was the hour of noon, and C. had kindly come to fetch me to the luncheon-room, where I found the guests all assembled, listening greedily to the conversation of the prince, who was that morning _en verve_, and relating with great good-nature the anecdotes which he had promised us on the preceding evening; the first claimant to be satisfied was, of course, by right, the youthful duchess, to whom he had held out hopes of the history of his famous visit to the great Cagliostro, and which I will give to the reader. “It was just at the dawning of the new lights which had arisen on the political horizon,” began the prince, “or rather, I should say, perhaps, with more justice, at the first extinguishing of the old beacons which had served to guide our ancestors for ages, that so many new doctrinaires and charlatans of every kind came swarming in crowds to Paris. Those were, indeed, most troublous times. Every brain seemed reeling with political vertigo—every heart seemed to beat thick and fast, with an ardour hitherto unknown in the annals of any country on the face of the globe. With the warm and passionate temperaments, enthusiasm had reached to frenzy, while, with the cold and passionless, it smouldered, a hidden fire, ready to burst out into lurid flame upon the first occasion of excitement.