“It is his immortal prerogative,” answered Mauville easily. “I only mentioned it to show how highly he honored my father.”
The nobleman lifted his eyebrows, steadily regarding his companion.
“It was a great honor,” he said softly. “One does not lend to a king. When Louis Philippe borrowed from your father he lent luster to your ancestry.”
“Yes; I doubt not my father regarded himself as 229 the debtor. Again, we had another distinguished compatriot of yours at our house––General Lafayette.”
“Lafayette!” repeated the marquis. “Ah, that’s another matter! A man, born to rank and condition, voluntarily sinking to the level of the commonalty! A person of breeding choosing the cause of the rout and rabble! How was he received?”
“Like a king!” laughed Mauville. “A vast concourse of people assembled before the river when he embarked on the ‘Natchez’ for St. Louis.”
Muttering something about “bourgeoisie!––épicier!” the nobleman partook of the liquid consolation before him, which seemed to brighten his spirits.
“If my doctors could see me now! Dolts! Quacks!”
“It’s a good joke on them,” said Mauville, ironically.
“Isn’t it? They forbid me touching stimulants. Said they would be fatal! Impostors! Frauds! They haven’t killed me yet, have they?”