Reminiscences of Prince Talleyrand, Volume 2 (of 2)Colmache, M., active 19th century
History
Reminiscences of Prince Talleyrand, Volume 2 (of 2)
Colmache, M., active 19th century
Talleyrand-Périgord, Charles Maurice de, prince de Bénévent, 1754-1838
“‘We are evidently going to St. Germain,’ thought I. ‘Well, ’tis of no
consequence; the mischief is done, and nothing can save me now from
the minister’s wrath and my poor uncle’s displeasure.’ But no—I was
wrong. When we came to the bottom of the hill upon which is situated
St. Germain, the carriage turned suddenly off the road to the left,
and entered a fine avenue of chestnut trees, at the end of which I
could perceive a pair of lofty iron gates, and, just peering above the
trees, the numerous chimneys and shining slates, of what appeared, at
the distance, a tolerably-sized château. The adventure now assumed a
different aspect; and I began to fear that, so far from the joyous
party I had before anticipated, we were destined to swell the number
of _convives_ at the table of some rich old dowager _en retraite_, and
that the treacherous kidnapping of d’Aiguillon was but a wily invention
to diminish his own _ennui_ by making me share in it.
“‘But the reproaches which I addressed to d’Aiguillon were unheard by
him; for, having exhausted his stock of scandal, and being himself
exhausted by the sleepless night he had passed, he had quietly folded
his arms, and sunk back into a sound and heavy slumber; and, proceeding
at the same rapid pace with which we had set out, up the avenue within
the iron gates, we were soon before the _perron_. As the carriage
stopped, I rubbed my eyes, scarcely able to believe my senses. Was
I in a dream? Every object which presented itself to my astonished,
horror-stricken gaze seemed familiar to my memory. The marble steps—the
hedge of geraniums—the open vestibule with the porphyry columns—and now
the doubt becomes certainty! The footman who comes with such agility
down the steps to assist us in alighting from the carriage, wears the
livery of—I was in a perspiration from head to foot—of Madame Dubarri!
Yes—the detestable _plaisanterie_ of d’Aiguillon was now evident. He
had brought me to Luciennes, and we were standing, four years too
late, before the Pavillon. The trees had grown since I was there last,
therefore I had not at first recognised the place.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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