THE COLONEL TRIES TO RELIEVE HIMSELF OF A MILLION WHICH INCUMBERS HIM.
Fougas had left Paris for Berlin the day after his audience. He took three days to make the trip, because he stopped some time at Nancy. The Marshal had given him a letter of introduction to the Prefect of Meurthe, who received him very politely, and promised to aid him in his investigations. Unfortunately, the house where he had loved Clementine Pichon was no longer standing. The authorities had demolished it in 1827, in cutting a street through. It is certain that the commissioners had not demolished the family with the house, but a new difficulty all at once presented itself: the name of Pichon abounded in the city, the suburbs, and the department. Among this multitude of Pichons, Fougas did not know which one to hug. Tired of hunting, and eager to hasten forward on,the road to fortune, he left this note for the commissioner of police:
"Search, on the registers of personal statistics and elsewhere, for a young girl named Clementine Pichon. She was eighteen years old in 1813; her parents kept an officers' boarding-house. If she is alive, get her address; if she is dead, look up her heirs. A father's happiness depends upon it!"
On reaching Berlin, the Colonel found that his reputation had preceded him. The note from the Minister of War had been sent to the Prussian Government through the French legation; Leon Renault, despite his grief, had found time to write a word to Doctor Hirtz; the papers had begun to talk, and the scientific societies to bestir themselves. The Prince Regent, even, had not disdained to ask information on the subject from his physician. Germany is a queer country, where science interests the very princes.
Fougas, who had read Doctor Hirtz's letter annexed to Herr Meiser's will, thought that he owed some acknowledgments to that excellent gentleman. He made a call upon him, and embraced him, addressing him as the oracle of Epidaurus. The doctor at once took possession of him, had his baggage brought from the hotel and gave him the best chamber in his house. Up to the 29th day of the month, the Colonel was cared for as a friend, and exhibited as a phenomenon. Seven photographers disputed the possession of so precious a sitter. The cities of Greece did no more for our poor old Homer. His Royal Highness, the Prince Regent, wished to see him in propriâ personâ, and begged Herr Hirtz to bring him to the palace. Fougas scratched his ear a little, and intimated that a soldier ought not to associate with the enemy, seeming to think himself still in 1813.
The Prince is a distinguished soldier, having commanded in person at the famous siege of Rastadt. He took pleasure in Fougas' conversation; the heroic simplicity of the young old-time soldier charmed him. He paid him huge compliments and said that the Emperor of France was very fortunate in having around him officers of so much merit.
"He has not a great many," replied the Colonel. "If there were but four or five hundred of my stamp, your Europe would have been bagged long ago!"
This answer seemed more amusing than threatening, and no addition was immediately made to the available portion of the Prussian army.
His Royal Highness directly informed Fougas that his indemnity had been fixed at two hundred and fifty thousand francs, and that he could receive the amount at the treasury whenever he should find it agreeable.
"My Lord," replied he, "it is always agreeable to pocket the money of an enemy—— a foreigner. But wait! I am not a censor-bearer to Plutus: give me back the Rhine and Posen, and I'll leave you your two hundred and fifty thousand francs."