He turned from the Spanish ambassador, to whom he was talking, came forward and took my hand; inquired, in a voice raised slightly so as to be distinct, about my journey; apologised for not having informed me that it was one of his political evenings, and introduced me to the Duc de Cadore.
Then—and this was his punishment—he totally ignored me for the remainder of the evening.
I cannot remember what the Duc de Cadore said to me, or I to him; but we talked, and I ate ices which I could not taste. I would have frankly beaten a retreat, now that I had made my entry and faced the fire, but for a young man who, engaged in a conversation with two of the attachés of the Austrian Embassy, looked in my direction every now and then. It was my evil genius, the Comte de Coigny.
The same who, as a boy in the garden of the Hôtel de Moray, had told me of the ruin of the Felicianis. I had not come across him since he left the Bourdaloue College. He was now, it seems, an attaché of the Emperor's, and he was just the same as of old, though bigger. A stout young man, with a stolid, insolent face; and I guessed, by his side-glances, that his conversation with the Austrians was about me, and that I was being discussed critically and sarcastically.
God! how I hated that young man at that moment; and how I longed to cross the room, and, flinging the convenances to the winds, smack him in the face! But that pleasure was to be reserved for another hand than mine.
When the unhappy political reception was over, and the last of the guests departed, I sought my guardian in the smoking-room, to make my apologies.
"My dear sir," said my guardian, with a little, kindly laugh that took the stiffness from the formality of his address and turned it into a little joke, "on my heart, I did not perceive what you were attired in. A host is oblivious of all things but the face and the hand of his guest. Were the Duc de Bassano or M. le Duc de Cadore to turn up at a reception of mine attired as a rag-picker, I would only be conscious that I was receiving the Duc de Cadore or the Duc de Bassano. They would be for me themselves, however their fellow-guests might sneer!
"And how have we enjoyed ourselves in Paris?" asked the kindly old gentleman, turning from the subject of dress, and lighting a fresh cigar.
"Oh, very well," I said. "And, by the way, I have met an old acquaintance."
"Ah!"