Sitting down on a stone he pointed out another to his companion, as if placed for a conversation. It was time, for the ex-soldier’s knees were knocking together so that he fell rather than sat on the elevation.
“Now that we are comfortable for a chat,” went on the magician, “let us know what went on under the Royale Place arches. The meeting must have been interesting?”
“To tell the truth, count, I am so upset that I really believe you will get a clearer account by questioning me.”
“Be it so, I am easy going, and the shape of news little matters provided I get it. How many of you met at the arches?”
“I wonder if they were the persons I conjecture to be there? Primo, you, no doubt.”
Beausire groaned as though he wished there could be doubt on that head.
“You do me much honor in commencing by me, for there were very great grandees compared with me.”
“My dear boy, I follow the Gospel: ‘The first shall be last.’ If the first are to be last, why, the last will naturally lead. So I begin with you, according to Scripture. Then there would be your comrade Tourcaty, an old recruiting officer who is charged to raise the Brabant Legion?”
“Yes, we had Tourcaty.”