"I have known you for a long while," he said to him, "and I am very much interested in you."
"How have I managed to deserve such interest on your part, monseigneur?" asked the Chevalier de Prokesch.
"I have read and studied your work on the battle of Waterloo, and I was so pleased with it that I have translated it into French and Italian."
After dinner, the prince addressed numerous questions about the East to the traveller, about its actual condition and the character of its inhabitants.
"What do they remember of my father in Egypt?" he asked.
"They remember him as a meteor which passed dazzlingly through their country."
"You are talking, monsieur," the duke replied, "of men of superior ideas like Mohamet-Ali, Ibrahim-Pacha; but I am speaking of the people, the Turks and Arabs and Fellahs; I ask you what all those folk think of General Bonaparte? Having had to bear the evil effects of the wax, do they not harbour a deep resentment?"
"Yes, doubtless. At first there was unfriendly feeling; but, later, it gave place to other sentiments, and there now only remains a great admiration for the memory of your illustrious father. The hatred which exists between the Turks and the Arabs is so great that, to-day, present evils have totally effaced the memory of the evils they had to endure at another period."
"I am aware of that explanation," said the duke; "but the multitude generally considers a great man after the manner in which it looks at a beautiful picture, without the power to account for what goes to constitute its merit: so the impression he leaves in their memories must be but ephemeral. Only superior minds can appreciate great men and preserve the memory of them."
"You are mistaken in this case, monseigneur: the people are faithful to their religion. Great men are gods who do not permit other divinities, or who discuss them before admitting them. The people judge by their feelings, and not by mental appreciation; and they worship the immortals from enthusiasm."