'The Duke de Rohan.'
'And where is he?'
'In London.'
'Yes, in London, and not at the Tuileries, where he might have had what he liked for the asking. I wonder if I were to fall whether I should have followers as faithful as those of the Bourbons. Would the men that I have made go into exile and refuse all offers until I should return? Come here, Berthier!' he took his favourite by the ear with the caressing gesture which was peculiar to him. 'Could I count upon you, you rascal—eh?'
'I do not understand you, Sire.' Our conversation had been carried on in a voice which had made it inaudible to the other people in the room, but now they were all listening to what Berthier had to say.
'If I were driven out, would you go into exile also?'
'No, Sire.'
'Diable! At least you are frank.'
'I could not go into exile, Sire.'
'And why?'