English poetry; Puck (Legendary character) -- Fiction; Short stories, English
'"Did it save your coat?" says Talleyrand. "I hear they tore it when
they threw you out. Don't gasconade to me. You may be in the road of
victory, but you aren't there yet."
'Then I guessed t'other man was Boney. He stamped about and swore at
Talleyrand.
'"You forget yourself, Consul," says Talleyrand, "or rather you remember
yourself--Corsican."
'"Pig!" says Boney, and worse.
'"Emperor!" says Talleyrand, but, the way he spoke, it sounded worst of
all. Some one must have backed against the folding doors, for they flew
open and showed me in the middle of the room. Boney whipped out his
pistol before I could stand up. "General," says Talleyrand to him, "this
gentleman has a habit of catching us canaille _en déshabillé_. Put that
thing down."
'Boney laid it on the table, so I guessed which was master. Talleyrand
takes my hand--"Charmed to see you again, Candide," he says. "How is the
adorable Dr. Pangloss and the noble Huron?"
'"They were doing very well when I left," I said. "But I'm not."
'"Do _you_ sell buttons now?" he says, and fills me a glass of wine off
the table.
'"Madeira," says he. "Not so good as some I have drunk."
'"You mountebank!" Boney roars. "Turn that out." (He didn't even say
"man," but Talleyrand, being gentle born, just went on.)
'"Pheasant is not so good as pork," he says. "You will find some at that
table if you will do me the honour to sit down. Pass him a clean plate,
General." And, as true as I'm here, Boney slid a plate along just like a
sulky child. He was a lanky-haired, yellow-skinned little man, as
nervous as a cat--and as dangerous. I could feel that.
'"And now," said Talleyrand, crossing his game leg over his sound one,
"will you tell me your story?"
'I was in a fluster, but I told him nearly everything from the time he
left me the five hundred dollars in Philadelphia, up to my losing ship
and cargo at Le Havre. Boney began by listening, but after a bit he
dropped into his own thoughts and looked at the crowd sideways through
the front-room curtains. Talleyrand called to him when I'd done.
'"Eh? What we need now," says Boney, "is peace for the next three or
four years."
'"Quite so," says Talleyrand. "Meantime I want the Consul's order to the
Prize Court at Le Havre to restore my friend here his ship."
'"Nonsense!" says Boney. "Give away an oak-built brig of two hundred and
seven tons for sentiment? Certainly not! She must be armed into my Navy
with ten--no, fourteen twelve-pounders and two long fours. Is she strong
enough to bear a long twelve forward?"
'Now I could ha' sworn he'd paid no heed to my talk, but that wonderful
head-piece of his seemingly skimmed off every word of it that was useful
to him.
'"Ah, General!" says Talleyrand. "You are a magician--a magician without
morals. But the brig is undoubtedly American, and we don't want to
offend them more than we have."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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