“The prince appeared to reflect for a moment, and the count waited impatiently for the answer.
“‘I have it—I have it,’ at length exclaimed the prince, joyfully.
“‘What? tell me quickly, I will go this moment and procure it.’
“‘No need to stir,’ returned the prince, drily; ‘give her one of the hairs of your head—if you can;—it must indeed be a thing unique of its kind, and of which none could bring her the fellow.’
“This allusion to the baldness of the antiquated Adonis was irresistible; the bon mot was sure to be remembered wherever he appeared, and for a long time it drove him from the society of those who had heard it. It was only when he had proved the reality of his pretensions, by the splendid marriage which he made soon afterwards, that he regained confidence, and once more appeared as you now behold him, more soft and Cupid-like, more captivating, and more papillonant than ever.
“The guest, who sits opposite to him, his partner in the game, is the celebrated Royer Collard, perhaps, saving our host, the best specimen of the ancien régime now existing in the country. As Talleyrand may be taken as type of the old French nobleman, so may Royer Collard be admitted as specimen of the ancient French gentleman. It is a pleasure to look upon that man, and behold in his calm, open eye, and his broad expanse of forehead, denoting at once the union of genius and benevolence, a perfect corroboration of all the good which one has heard from all parties concerning him. Throughout every change and form of government under which he has been called into action, he has been remarkable for his inflexible integrity. No swerving—no deviation—no compromise—but straight-forward has he marched, without flinching, in the path which he had chosen. It was he who applied to Guizot the epithet which it is said so diverted the king. ‘Austère intrigant!’ exclaimed he, when he heard that Guizot had again accepted office, after his expressed determination not to act with the then existing government. The mot flew from mouth to mouth, and, whether correct or not, was at least successful, which is everything in Paris.
“I firmly believe Royer Collard to be a true and disinterested friend of the prince. In Paris, they live much together; scarcely a single day being suffered to pass without his paying his visit at the Hôtel Talleyrand. Perhaps he is the only person amid the crowd by whom the prince is surrounded, in whom the latter places perfect reliance, because, with his keen judgment and great knowledge of human nature, he knows well enough that he is the only one with whom interest will yield to friendship.
“Of course,” proceeded my friend C., “the château is sometimes visited, like every other château in the kingdom, by all the ‘fâcheux’ and the ‘importuns’ of the country round, and the prince, being in a more elevated position than his neighbours, has also more than their share of hospitality to bestow. Just observe yonder old gentleman with the powdered head, looking over M.’s cards, with a knowing air. That is a near neighbour of the prince, to whom he is compelled by policy to do the honours of the house. It is impossible to behold a better type of the ‘Berrichon,’ whom their own George Sand has so aptly described as ‘moitié ours, moitié mouton.’ His estate joins that of Valençay; part of it can be seen from the windows of the gallery of the château, and, on looking thence the other day, he exclaimed to the Count de M., who was admiring it, ‘Mon Dieu, comte! just think: if I had only had the misfortune to lose my father last year, I might have bought all the land right away to the left, and made the place worth having!’ A whole written volume could not paint the Berrichon character more clearly than this single speech. It is verily believed, that were the thing permitted by law, the Berrichon would throw his own children into the balance, if it were necessary to complete a good bargain in the disposal of his sheep.
“You would be much diverted were you to witness all the intriguing and manœuvring that is going forward among the propriétaires and gentilâtres of this part of the country, to gain admission here. This château is looked upon with wonder and awe, and its broad bastions and Moorish towers are fabled through the province to contain more dark secrets and more hidden mysteries than ever were confided to the grim keeping of the Bastile or the Seven Towers. A short time ago, the Mayor of C., a large town of this province, at some little distance from this, was invited by the prince to dine at the château, and, as the roads were bad, and the nights without moon, he was courteously asked to delay his return home until the following morning. You may imagine the sudden increase of importance, the sudden puffing of pride, with which the worthy mayor accepted the invitation, and also the parting injunctions of madame son épouse, to bring back to her and her daughters the long history of all the wondrous deeds which were going forward inside those aristocratic walls—a sealed mystery which, from their own experience, they knew that they could never hope to solve.
“It so happened that, on the very morning of the day so rife with expectation to the poor mayor, Comte Molé had arrived at Valençay. Nothing could be more propitious, and the worthy official rubbed his hands with glee, at the thought of the immense information he should gain, by listening to the conversation of two such distinguished politicians—of the awful importance of his position with regard to his colleagues at the conseil at home—of the delight and pride of his ambitious wife, while she listened to the detail of all her husband had heard concerning the secret affairs of the nation; in short, the honest bourgeois felt, from the very moment of his arrival, that tremulous, uncertain kind of emotion (one hardly knows whether to call it pain or pleasure), which precedes in most minds the realization of some dream which has long been nursed and fostered with great care.