Serious history would not listen for a second to the unsupported word of such a man. The life of Talleyrand lies on a peculiar plane, and Maubreuil’s accusation, that he engaged him to murder Napoleon, has been treated with the usual hypocritical gravity. The only attempt at confirmation is found by the diligent Sainte-Beuve in a floating rumour that one of Talleyrand’s confidants was heard to ask: “How many millions do you ask?” As Maubreuil did not pretend to have treated with either Louis or De Pradt, and as the likelihood of such a contract being heard by others is inconceivable, the rumour would be worth little even if it were better grounded. The only other attempt at confirmation is made by the amiable Pasquier, who says that Dalberg told him men had been found who would get access to the Emperor in the uniform of chasseurs of the guard and do away with him. As Maubreuil spoke of a design of using this uniform, Pasquier concluded he was the proposed leader of the band, and Talleyrand the instigator. On this kind of evidence Sainte-Beuve is vaguely sure that we may connect Talleyrand with the idea of assassination, just as he has a “terrible doubt” whether we may not connect him with the death of Mirabeau. Thus has the mythical Talleyrand been put together. There are those who, in such a case, would take the word of Maubreuil himself, quite apart from the thin rumour that Sainte-Beuve has captured after it has floated about Paris for half a century, and the strained recollections of Pasquier. “I am,” said Talleyrand, “an old umbrella on which the rain has beaten for forty years: a drop more or less makes no difference.” He continued to watch from his long chair at the window over the Tuileries, and smile at the blunders that were hurrying the Bourbons off the stage once more. Napoleon had gone in 1821. “It is not an event,” he said; “only a piece of news.” Louis died in 1824. The pious and narrow-minded Charles X was in the hands of the Clerical party. They readmitted the Jesuits in thin disguise. “M. Cuvier,” asked Talleyrand of the great zoologist, “which are the most grateful animals?” Cuvier was puzzled. “The turkeys, of course,” said the Prince, “because the Jesuits introduced the turkeys, and now the turkeys (_Anglice_, geese) are re-introducing the Jesuits.” Someone told him that Chateaubriand was getting deaf. “He fancies he’s deaf,” said Talleyrand, “because he does not hear people talking about him any longer.” At last the crisis came, and the king-maker stepped into public life once more. CHAPTER XVII THE LAST ACT