HAD HE SUCCEEDED!
(A Possible Page in French History that probably will never be written.)
The General-President had been established at the Elysée for some three months, when his aides-de-camp found their labours considerably increased. At all hours of the day and night they were called up to receive persons who desired an interview with their chief and master. As they had received strict orders from His Highness never to appear in anything but full uniform (cloth of gold tunics, silver-tissue trousers, and belts and epaulettes of diamonds) they spent most of their time in changing their costume.
"I am here to see anyone and everyone," said His Highness; "but I look to you, Gentlemen of the Ring, I should say Household, to see that I am disturbed by only those who have the right of entrée. And now, houp-là! You can go."
Thus dismissed, the unfortunate aides-de-camp could but bow, and retire in silence. But, though they gave no utterance to their thoughts, their reflections were of a painful character. They felt what with five reviews a day, to say nothing of what might be termed scenes in the circle (attendances at the Bois, dances at the Hôtel de Ville, and the like), their entire exhaustion was only a question of weeks, or even days.
One morning the General-President, weary of interviews, was about to retire into his salle-à-manger, there to discuss the twenty-five courses of his simple déjeuner à la fourchette, when he was stopped by a person in a garb more remarkable for its eccentricity than its richness. This person wore a coat with tails a yard long, enormous boots, a battered hat, and a red wig. A close observer would have doubted whether his nose was real or artificial. The strangely-garbed intruder bowed grotesquely.
"What do you want with me?" asked the General-President, sharply. "Do you not know I am busy?"
"Not too busy to see me," retorted the unwelcome guest, striking up a lively tune upon a banjo which he had concealed about his person while passing the Palace Guard, but which he now produced. "I pray you step with me a measure."
Thus courteously invited, His Highness could but comply, and for some ten minutes host and guest indulged in a breakdown.
"And now, what do you want with me?" asked the General-President when the dance had been brought to a satisfactory conclusion.
"My reward," was the prompt reply.
"Reward!" echoed His Highness. "Why, my good friend, I have refused a Royal Duke, an Imperial Prince, a Powerful Order, and any number of individuals, who have made a like demand."
"Ah! but they did not do so much for you as I did."
"Well, I don't know," returned the General-President, "but they parted with their gold pretty freely."
"Gold!" retorted the visitor, contemptuously, "I gave you more than gold. From me you had notes. Where would you have been without my songs?" He took off his false nose, and thus enabled the General-President to recognise the "Pride of the Music Halls!"
"You will find I am not ungrateful," said the Chief of the State, with difficulty suppressing his emotion.
His Highness was as good as his word. The next night at the Café des Ambassadeurs there was a novel attraction. An old favourite was described in the affiches as le Due de Nouveau-Cirque.
The reception that old favourite received in the course of the evening was fairly, but not too cordial. But enthusiasm and hilarity reached fever-heat when, on turning his face from them, the audience discovered that their droll was wearing (in a somewhat grotesque fashion) the grand cordon of the Legion of Honour on his back! Then it was felt that France must be safe in the hands of a man whose sense of the fitness of things rivalled the taste of the pig whose soul soared above the charm of pearls!