The most remarkable of the whole tribe was decidedly the venerable Courtiade, one to whom, by reason of his long services and devoted attachment, the prince allowed a greater latitude than to any other, and whose homely remarks and shrewd observations upon passing events, afforded him the greatest amusement. This man had entered the prince’s service long before the breaking out of the first revolution, and died “still in those voluntary bonds,” during the embassy to London. It was said that the grief which he experienced in consequence of being left in Paris, owing to his advanced age and growing infirmities, contributed, in a great measure, to hasten his death. His attachment was rather that of a member of the canine species than of a human being. During the early years of his service he had partaken of all the vicissitudes of the ever-changing fortunes of his master. The prince would take a peculiar delight in recounting to strangers the story of his flight to America, when, in obedience to a secret friendly warning, he resolved to take his immediate departure. Courtiade was with him at the moment that he received the letter which was the cause of this decision, and the prince immediately confided to him the step he was about to take, at the same time advising him, as he had a wife and family to whom he would doubtless wish to bid adieu before venturing on so long and perilous a journey, more especially since the period of his return must be distant and uncertain, that he should let him depart at once, and follow in the next packet which should sail. “Non, non,” replied Courtiade, in the greatest agitation; “you shall not leave the country alone and unattended—I will go with you; but only leave me till to-morrow night!” “That cannot be, Courtiade,” returned the prince; “the delay will endanger our position, without being sufficiently long to be of service to yourself and your wife.” “Bah! c’est bien de ma femme dont il s’agit!” exclaimed the valet, with the tears rushing to his eyes; “it is that accursed washerwoman, who has got all your fine shirts and your muslin cravats, and how, in heaven’s name, will you be able to make an appearance, and in a foreign country too, without them?”