"Yet I am not sure of deserving the marquis' interest."
"Has the marquis admitted that he feels any interest in you? Though this I will own: few experiences have affected me like your living eyes staring out of the face of my dead king!"
We met each other again with a steady gaze like that in the mortuary chapel.
"Do you believe I am ——?"
"Do I believe you are ——? Who said there was such a person in existence?"
"Louis Philippe."
"The Duke of Orleans? Eh, bien! What does he know of the royal family? He is of the cadette branch."
"But he told me the princess, the dauphin's sister, believes that the dauphin was taken alive from the Temple and sent to America."
"My dear Lazarre, I do not say the Duke of Orleans would lie—far be it from me—though these are times in which we courageously attack our betters. But he would not object to seeing the present pretender ousted. Why, since his father voted for the death of Louis XVI, he and his are almost outlawed by the older branch! Madame Royal, the Duchess of Angoulême, cannot endure him. I do not think she would speak to him!"
"He is my friend," I said stoutly.