“Can you not distinguish between the forced services exacted by a tyrant and the noble duty rendered to a rightful sovereign?”
“I can better estimate the fascinations which lead men to follow a hero, than to be the parade-soldier around the gilded gates of a palace.”
De Beauvais's cheek flashed scarlet, and his voice was agitated, as he replied,—
“The nobles of France, sir, have shown themselves as high in deeds of chivalry and heroism as they have ever been in the accomplishments of true-born gentlemen.”
“Pardon me, De Beauvais! I meant no imputation of them and their motives. There is every reason why you and your gallant companions should enjoy the favors of that crown your efforts have placed upon the head of the King of France. Your true and fitting station is around the throne your bravery and devotion have restored. But as for us,—we who have fought and marched, have perilled limb and life, to raise the fortune and elevate the glory of him who was the enemy of that sovereign,—how can we be participators in the triumph we labored to avert, and rejoice in a consummation we would have died rather than witness?”
“But it has come; the fates have decided against you. The cause you would serve is not merely unfortunate,—it is extinct; the Empire has left no banner behind it. Come, then, and rally round one whose boast it is to number among its followers the high-born and the noble,—to assert the supremacy of rank and worth above the claim of the base and low.”
“I cannot; I must not.”
“At least, you will wait on the Comte d'Artois. You must see his royal highness, and thank him for his gracious intentions.”
“I know what that means, De Beauvais; I have heard that few can resist the graceful fascinations of the prince's manner. I shall certainly not fear to encounter them, however dangerous to my principles.”
“But not to refuse his royal highness?” said he, quickly. “I trust you will not do that.”