‘I sincerely trust it may not shock this distinguished company if I say that it is the dawn of intellect, and the last night of incapacity, we are now witnessing. You have heard that this gentleman has seen the king?’
‘Mirabeau been received by his Majesty!’ ‘Mirabeau admitted to the presence!’ exclaimed three or four, in tones of utter incredulity.
‘I can be positive as to the fact,’ resumed the bishop. ‘I can be even more—I can tell this honourable company what passed at the interview. It was, then, last night—(thank you, Monsieur le Duc, I accept your chair, since it allows me a more convenient spot to speak from)—it was last night, at a late hour, that a messenger arrived at the Avenue aux Abois with an order—I suppose it is etiquette I should call it order—for Monsieur de Mirabeau to hasten to St. Cloud, where the king desired to confer with him.’
‘I ‘ll never believe it!’ cried the Marquis de Ribaupierre impetuously.
‘If I had the happiness of being confessor to the Marquis, I would enjoin an extension of faith—particularly in the times we live in, said Talleyrand, with a dry humour in his look. ‘At all events, it is as I have the honour to acquaint you. Monsieur de Mirabeau received this message and obeyed it.’
‘Par St. Louis, I can believe he obeyed it!’ exclaimed the Duc de Valmy.
‘And yet, Monsieur,’ said the bishop, ‘it was not till after very grave reflection the Count de Mirabeau determined to accept that same invitation.’
‘Ah, Monseigneur, you would presume upon our credulity,’ broke in De Valmy.
‘Far from it, Duc; I cherish every crumb of faith that falls from a table so scantily dressed; but once more I repeat, the Count de Mirabeau weighed well the perils on either side, and then decided on accepting those which attached to the court.’
‘The perils which attached to the court!’ cried the Marquis de Langeac scoflingly. ‘Monseigneur doubtless alludes to all the seductive temptations that would assail the cold, impassive temperament of his friend.’