“Nay,” answered Alain, in a low voice. “The gentilhomme who will not defend another gentilhomme traduced, would, as a soldier, betray a citadel and desert a flag.”
“You say M. de Mauleon is changed,” said De Breze; “yes, he must be growing old. No trace left of his good looks?”
“Pardon me,” said Enguerrand; “he is bien conserve, and has still a very handsome head and an imposing presence. But one cannot help doubting whether he deserved the formidable reputation he acquired in youth; his manner is so singularly mild and gentle, his conversation so winningly modest, so void of pretence, and his mode of life is as simple as that of a Spanish hidalgo.”
“He does not, then, affect the role of Monte Cristo,” said Duplessis, “and buy himself into notice like that hero of romance?”
“Certainly not: he says very frankly that he has but a very small income, but more than enough for his wants,—richer than in his youth, for he has learned content. We may dismiss the hint in ‘Le Sens Commun’ about his future political career,—at least he evinces no such ambition.”
“How could he as a Legitimist?” said Alain, bitterly. “What department would elect him?”
“But is he a Legitimist?” asked De Breze.
“I take it for granted that he must be that,” answered Alain, haughtily, “for he is a De Mauleon.”
“His father was as good a De Mauleon as himself, I presume,” rejoined De Breze, dryly; “and he enjoyed a place at the Court of Louis Philippe, which a Legitimist could scarcely accept. Victor did not, I fancy, trouble his head about politics at all, at the time I remember him; but to judge by his chief associates, and the notice he received from the Princes of the House of Orleans, I should guess that he had no predilections in favour of Henri V.”
“I should regret to think so,” said Alain, yet more haughtily, “since the De Mauleons acknowledge the head of their house in the representative of the Rochebriants.”