"But all Frenchmen," I could not help reminding the man in power, "are not faithful friends."
He gave me a sharp look as he passed on, and repeated what I afterward learned was one of his favorite maxims:
"A faithful friend is the true image."
VIII
"Must you go to Mittau?" the Marquis du Plessy said when I told him what I intended to do. "It is a long, expensive post journey; and part of the way you may not be able to post. Riga, on the gulf beyond Mittau, is a fine old town of pointed gables and high stone houses. But when I was in Mittau I found it a mere winter camp of Russian nobles. The houses are low, one-story structures. There is but one castle, and in that his Royal Highness the Count of Provence holds mimic court."
We were riding to Versailles, and our horses almost touched sides as my friend put his hand on my shoulder.
"Don't go, Lazarre. You will not be welcome there."
"I must go, whether I am welcome or not."
"But I may not last until you come back."