“Well, now, it is a little hard that a man who has been toiling all day for the public good should feel ashamed of indulging for an hour or two at night in his private amusements; but so it is. ‘Once grave, always grave!’ is the maxim of the world; eh, Chatran?”
The companion bowed. “‘Tis a very good saying, please your Royal Highness, and is intended to warn us from the sin of ever being grave!”
“Ha! ha! you have a great turn for morality, my good Chatran!” cried the Duke, “and would draw a rule for conduct out of the wickedest bon mot of Dubois. Monsieur, pardon me, but I have seen you before: you are the Count—”
“Devereux, Monseigneur.”
“True, true! I have heard much of you: you are intimate with Milord Bolingbroke. Would that I had fifty friends like him.”
“Monseigneur would have little trouble in his regency if his wish were realized,” said Chatran.
“Tant mieux, so long as I had little odium, as well as little trouble,—a happiness which, thanks to you and Dubois, I am not likely to enjoy,—but there is the carriage!”
And the Duke pointed to a dark, plain carriage, which we had suddenly come upon.
“Count Devereux,” said the merry Regent, “you will enter; my duty requires that, at this seductive hour, I should see a young gentleman of your dangerous age safely lodged at his hotel!”
We entered, Chatran gave the orders, and we drove off rapidly.