“Poor man!” she said; “he tried to kneel to me, praying that I would not think of him, and forgetting the shackles that were on his feet! Ah, marquis, I will plead his cause. Yes, I’ll kiss the boot of their Emperor. If I fail—well, the memory of that man shall live eternally honored in our family. Present his petition for mercy so as to gain time; meantime I am resolved to have his portrait. Come, let us go.”
The next day, when Talleyrand was informed by a sign agreed upon that Laurence was at her post, he rang the bell; his orderly came to him, and received orders to admit Monsieur Corentin.
“My friend, you are a very clever fellow,” said Talleyrand, “and I wish to employ you.”
“Monsiegneur—”
“Listen. In serving Fouche you will get money, but never honor nor any position you can acknowledge. But in serving me, as you have lately done at Berlin, you can win credit and repute.”
“Monseigneur is very good.”
“You displayed genius in that late affair at Gondreville.”
“To what does Monseigneur allude?” said Corentin, with a manner that was neither too reserved nor too surprised.
“Ah, Monsieur!” observed the minister, dryly, “you will never make a successful man; you fear—”
“What, monseigneur?”