CHAPTER XXXII. MOI ET MON PRINCE
In less than a fortnight after the interview I have just recorded, I received a letter from De Minérale, enclosing another, addressed to himself, and whose royal seal at once proclaimed the writer. De Minérale's was only a few lines, thus:—
“Dear C,—I forward you the 'Duke's' reply to my note, by which you will see that we have been in time, and fortunate enough to secure your appointment. Lose not a moment in fulfilling the instructions contained in it, and dine with me to-day at the 'Frères,' at seven.
“Yours,
“P. deM.”
The Duke's epistle, almost equally brief, was to the effect:
“Headquarters, Oran.
“My Dear De Minérale,—Of course I remember perfectly our friend the 'Quatorzième,' whose lucubrations in the journals I have since been much amused with. In some respects he would suit me well, being a fellow of high animal spirits, great readiness, and, if I mistake not, well fitted for the rough usage of a campaign. But it strikes me that if his position be such as you represent it, the exchange would be anything but profitable. This is a land of few pleasures and no luxuries. Tell him that we never see truffles, that champagne is only a tradition, and, except Moorish damsels, who never show us more of their faces than a pair of eyes,— —darting fire and anger,—we have no beauties. Yet if, despite all these drawbacks, he be still willing to tempt his fortune, and trust to 'a razzia' for the rest, let him call on Count du Verguoble, at the 'Ministère de la Guerre,' where he will find everything in readiness for his appointment.