France -- History -- Revolution, 1789-1799 -- Fiction; Historical fiction
"Vagabond!" he cried after him, in a voice trembling with rage, "you
would throw me down again, would you? We will put you in your place
by-and-by. We will; why, _Dieu!_ when I was young----"
"But, M. le Baron," I said to divert his attention, for two or three
bystanders were casting ugly looks at us, and I saw that it needed
little to bring about a fracas, "are you quite sure that we shall be
able to keep them in check?"
The old noble still trembled, but he drew himself up with a gesture of
pathetic gallantry.
"You shall see!" he cried. "When it comes to hard knocks, you shall
see, Monsieur. But here we are; and there is Madame St. Alais on the
balcony with some of her bodyguard." He paused to kiss his hand, with
the air of a Polignac. "Up there, M. le Vicomte, you will see what you
will see," he continued. "And I--I shall be in luck, too, for I have
brought you."
It seemed to me more like a dream than a reality. A fortnight before,
I had been spurned from this house with insults; I had been bidden
never to enter it again. Now, on the balconies, from which pretty
faces and powdered heads looked down, handkerchiefs fluttered to greet
me. On the stairs, which, crowded with servants and lackeys, shook
under the constant stream of comers and goers, I was received with a
hum of applause. In every corner snuff-boxes were being tapped and
canes handled; the flashing of roguish eyes behind fans vied with the
glitter of mirrors. And through all a lane was made for me. At the
door Louis met me. A little farther on, Madame came half-way across
the room to me. It was a triumph--a triumph which I found
inexplicable, unintelligible, until I learned that the rebuff which I
had administered to the deputation had been exaggerated a dozen times,
nay, a hundred times, until it met even the wishes of the most
violent; while the sober and thoughtful were too glad to hail in my
adhesion the proof of that reaction, which the Royalist party, from
the first day of the troubles, never ceased to expect.
No wonder that, taken by surprise and intoxicated with incense, I let
myself go. To have declared in that company and with Madame's gracious
words in my ears, that I had not come to join them, that I had come on
a different errand altogether, that though I had repelled the
deputation I had no intention of acting against it, would have
required a courage and a hardness I could not boast; while the
circumstances of the deputation, Doury's presumption and Buton's
hints, to say nothing of the violence of the Parisian mob, had not
failed to impress me unfavourably. With a thousand others who had
prepared themselves to welcome reform, I recoiled when I saw the
lengths to which it was tending; and, though nothing had been farther
from my mind when I entered Cahors than to join myself to the St.
Alais faction, I found it impossible to reject their apologies on the
spot, or explain on the instant the real purpose with which I had come
to them.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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