‘And why not?’ said another. ‘Is it when men are arriving half dead with fatigue, without rations, without billets, glad to snatch a few hours’ rest on the stones of the “Place,” that the colonel of a regiment should travel with all the state of an eastern despot?’
‘We might as well have the Monarchy back again,’ said an old weather-beaten captain; ‘I say far better, for their vices sat gracefully and becomingly on those essenced scoundrels, whereas they but disfigure the plainness of our daily habits.’
‘All this is sheer envy, comrades,’ broke in a young major of hussars—‘sheer envy; or what is worse, downright hypocrisy. Not one of us is a whit better or more moral than if he wore the livery of a king, and carried a crown on his shako instead of that naked damsel that represents French Liberty. Mahon is the luckiest fellow going, and, I heartily believe, the most deserving of his fortune! And see if General Moreau be not of my opinion.
There he is on the balcony, and she is leaning on his arm.’
‘Parbleu! the major is right!’ said another; ‘but, for certain, it was not in that humour he left us just now; his lips were closely puckered up, and his fingers were twisted into his sword-knot—two signs of anger and displeasure there’s no mistaking.’
‘If he’s in a better temper, then,’ said another, ‘it was never the smiles of a pretty woman worked the change. There’s not a man in France so thoroughly indifferent to such blandishments.’
‘Tant pis pour lui,’ said the major; ‘but they’re closing the window-shutters, and we may as well go home.’
CHAPTER XLV. THE CABINET OF A CHEF DE POLICE
Whatever opinion may be formed of the character of the celebrated conspiracy of Georges and Pichegru, the mode of its discovery, and the secret rules by which its plans were detected, are among the great triumphs of police skill. From the hour when the conspirators first met together in London, to that last fatal moment when they expired in the Temple, the agents of Fouché never ceased to track them.