“Take care of this gentleman for me,” said De Beauvais, pointing to me; and then, wheeling round his horse, he galloped at full speed to the rear.
“I will spare you all trouble on my account, sir,” said I. “My way lies yonder, and at present I see no obstacle to my pursuing it.”
“Let me at least send an escort with you.”
I thanked him and declined the offer; and leaving the ranks of the procession, mingled with the crowd, and in a few minutes after reached my hotel without further molestation. The hour was come, I saw plainly, in which I must leave France. Not only was every tie which bound me to that land severed, but to remain was only to oppose myself singly to the downward current of popular opinion which now threatened to overturn every landmark and vestige of the Empire. Up to this moment, I never confessed to my heart with what secret hope I had prolonged each day of my stay,—how I cherished within me the expectation that I should once again, though but for an instant, see her who lived in all my thoughts, and, unknown to my self, formed the mainspring of all my actions!
This hope only became confessed when about to leave me forever.
As I busied myself in the preparations for departure, a note arrived from De Beauvais, stating that he desired particularly to see and confer with me that same evening, and requesting me on no account to be from home, as his business was most pressing. I felt little curiosity to know to what he might allude, and saw him enter my room some hours later without a single particle of anxiety as to his communication.
“I am come, Burke,” said he, after a few commonplaces had been exchanged between us,—“I am come, Burke, on a mission which I hope you will believe the sincerest regard for you has prompted me to undertake, and which, whatever objections it may meet with from you, none can arise, I am certain, on the score of his fidelity who now makes this proposition to you. To be brief: the Count d'Artois has sent me to offer you your grade and rank in the army of his Majesty Louis the Eighteenth. Your last gazette was as colonel; but there is a rumor you should have received your appointment as general of brigade. There will be little difficulty in arranging your brevet on that understanding; for your services, brief as they were, have not been unnoticed. Marshal Ney himself bears testimony to your conduct at Montereau; and your name twice occurs on the list of the minister of war for promotion. Strange claims these, you will say, to recompense from the rightful sovereign of France, gained as they were in the service of the Usurper! But it is the prerogative of legitimacy to be great and noble-minded, and to recognize true desert wherever it occurs. Come, what say you? Does this proposal meet your wishes?”
“If to surpass my expectations, and flatter my pride, were to convince my reason, and change my estimation of what is loyal and true, I should say, 'Yes, De Beauvais; the proposition does meet my wishes.' But not so. I wore these epaulettes first in my admiration of him whose fortunes I have followed to the last. My pride, my glory, were to be his soldier; that can be no longer, and the sword I drew in his cause shall never be unsheathed in another's.”
“Are you ignorant that such arguments apply with equal force to all those great men who have, within these few weeks past, sworn allegiance to his Majesty? What say you to the list of marshals, not one of whom has refused the graciously offered favor of his Majesty? Are Ney, Soult, Augereau, Macdonald, and Marmont nothing as examples?”
“I will not say so, De Beauvais; but this I will say, they had had both more respect and esteem from me had they done otherwise. If they were true to the Emperor, they can scarce be loyal to the King.”