[CHAPTER II]
Great explanations about the bear-steak—Jacotot—An ill-sounding epithet—A seditious felt hat—The carabiniers who were too clever—I quarrel with King Charles-Albert over the Dent du Chat—Princes and men of intellect
I returned to Florence in 1842 for a very sad and distressing ceremony; I returned to attend the funeral of the Duc d'Orléans.
It is one of the singular features of my life to have known all the princes; and, with the most Republican ideas imaginable, to have been attached to them with the deepest affection of my heart. Now, who informed me at Florence of the death of the Duc d'Orléans? Prince Jérôme-Napoléon. I had just dined at Quarto—a charming country-house four miles from Florence—with the father of the ex-King of Westphalia, when, taking me aside, he said—"My dear Dumas, I am going to tell you news which will cause you much pain."
I looked at him with anxiety.
"Monseigneur," I said to him, "I have received news of my two children this morning; they are well; except for accidents which may have happened to them, I am prepared for anything."
"Well, the Duc d'Orléans is dead!"
I confess this came upon me like a thunderbolt. Uttering an exclamation and bursting into tears I threw myself into the prince's arms.
"Oh! monseigneur," I said to him, "I have cared for but two princes, for him and for you. For him more than for you, I frankly admit; now I have but you to care for."