“We wished to see and speak with you about many things in France, sir. You have latterly been there? We are given to understand that you are a shrewd observer, and we desire to learn your views of events, and of the people who direct them. Our own informant induces us to believe that the tide of popular favor is turning against the men of violent opinions, and that a wiser and healthier tone pervades the nation. Does that agree with your experience?”
“Quite so, sir; there cannot be a second opinion on the question.”
“And the old attachment to the monarchy is again displaying itself, far and near, through the country?” added he, warmly.
“There I cannot go with you, sir,” was my answer; and although his look was a fierce, almost an angry one, I continued: “The military spirit is that which now sways the nation, and he who can best gratify the thirst of glory will be the ruler. The kings of France have been but pageants of late.”
“Be discreet, sir. Speak of what you know, and do not dare to insult—” he paused, and then added, “an ancient follower of his sovereign.”
His age and his fervor repressed any resentment the speech might have suggested, and I only said,—
“You asked me for opinions, sir, and I gave you mine frankly. You must not be displeased if they do not always chime with your own.”
“Monsieur is perfectly right. His remark is a just one,” said the other, who now spoke for the first time.
“I think he is mistaken, though,” replied the former. “I fancy that he is led away by that vulgar cant which sees in the degradation of one solitary individual the abasement of his whole class and order. By the way, you knew that same Count de Gabriac?”
I bowed my assent.