“You would not have me yield to the flattery of a prince's notice what I refuse to the solicitations of a friend, would you?”
“And such is your intention,—your fixed intention?”
“Undoubtedly it is.”
De Beauvais turned away impatiently, and leaned on the window for some minutes. Then, after a pause, and in a slow and measured voice, added,—
“You are known to the Court, Burke, by other channels than those I have mentioned. Your prospects of advancement would be most brilliant, if you accept this offer: I scarcely know to what they may not aspire. Reflect for a moment or two. There is no desertion,—no falling off here. Remember that the Empire was a vision, and like a dream it has passed away. Where there is no cause, there can be no fealty.”
“It is but a sorry memory, De Beauvais, that only retains while there are benefits to receive; mine is a more tenacious one.”
“Then my mission is ended,” cried he, taking up his hat. “I may mention to his royal highness that you intend returning to England; that you are indisposed to service at present. It is unnecessary to state more accurately the views you entertain?”
“I leave the matter completely to your discretion.”
“Adieu, then. Our roads lie widely apart, Burke; and I for one regret it deeply. It only remains that I should give you this note; which I promised to deliver into your hands in the event of your declining to accept the prince's offer.”
He blushed deeply, as he placed a small sealed note in my fingers; and as if anxious to get away, pressed my hand hurriedly, and left the room.