* The term roue, now so comprehensive, was first given by the Regent to a select number of his friends; according to them, because they would be broken on the wheel for his sake, according to himself, because they deserved to be so broken.—ED.
A day had now effected a change—a great change—in my fate. A new court, a new theatre of action, a new walk of ambition, were suddenly opened to me. Nothing could be more promising than my first employment; nothing could be more pleasing than the anticipation of the change. “I must force myself to be agreeable to-night,” said I, as I dressed for the Regent’s supper. “I must leave behind me the remembrance of a bon mot, or I shall be forgotten.”
And I was right. In that whirlpool, the capital of France, everything sinks but wit: that is always on the surface; and we must cling to it with a firm grasp, if we would not go down to—“the deep oblivion.”
CHAPTER X.
ROYAL EXERTIONS FOR THE GOOD OF THE PEOPLE.
WHAT a singular scene was that private supper with the Regent of France and his roues! The party consisted of twenty: nine gentlemen of the court besides myself; four men of low rank and character, but admirable buffoons; and six ladies, such ladies as the Duke loved best,—witty, lively, sarcastic, and good for nothing.
De Chatran accosted me.
“Je suis ravi, mon cher Monsieur Devereux,” said he, gravely, “to see you in such excellent company: you must be a little surprised to find yourself here!”
“Not at all! every scene is worth one visit. He, my good Monsieur Chatran, who goes to the House of Correction once is a philosopher: he who goes twice is a rogue!”