At one of those gatherings I had been placed close to the Comte de Witt.
That same morning I had had a strange visit. I was just stepping out of bed when told that a young Frenchman wished to speak to me. The caller turns out to be a man of good appearance, who presents me with a small parcel he is carrying. ‘This,’ he says, ‘is a letter M. Rey, the advocate with whom you dined at M. de Bondy’s, the Prefect at Lyons, has asked me to hand you.’ While I motion him to be seated I open the epistle, in which M. Rey, after the usual greetings, asks me, supposing I should be in Vienna, to interest myself for the bearer, M. Cast ... in order to get him some employment.
‘By the date of the letter, monsieur, you must have left Lyons some time.’
‘Yes,’ replies the visitor, ‘having the whole of the world thrown open to me to choose a habitat, I made my way to the present one on foot.’
‘You have no doubt other recommendations?’
‘None whatever.’
‘Allow me to compliment you on your courage. To do three hundred leagues on foot simply on the strength of a letter from a person whom I have only seen once, and without even the certainty of finding me—assuredly you ought to succeed! In spite of this, I can give you but little hope. If you came to the Congress to claim a kingdom, a province, an indemnity, you would probably be listened to, but a post for a Frenchman in the Austrian States—that, I am afraid, will be a difficult thing to get. Nevertheless, I will do all I can for you. What have you done up to the present?’
‘I have served in the Guards of Honour.’
‘What sort of post have you in view?’
‘I am not at all particular. I can be a secretary, or pretty well fill any kind of post, whether it be civil or military.’