I went next to Marshal Canrobert’s, and there I had a great surprise. Just as I was getting out of the carriage, I nearly fell into the arms of the Marshal, who was coming out of his house.
“What is it? What’s the matter? Is it postponed?” he asked, laughing.
I did not understand, and gazed at him rather bewildered.
“Well, have you forgotten that you invited me to luncheon?” he asked.
I was quite confused, for I had entirely forgotten it.
“Well, all the better!” I said; “I very much wanted to talk to you. Come; I am going to take you with me now.”
I then related my visit to Victor Hugo, and repeated all the fine thoughts he had uttered, forgetting that I was constantly saying things that were contrary to the Marshal’s ideas. This admirable man could admire, though, and if he could not change his opinions, he approved the great ideas which were to bring about great changes.
One day, when he and Busnach were both at my house, there was a political discussion which became rather violent. I was afraid for a moment that things might take a bad turn, as Busnach was the most witty and at the same time the rudest man in France. It is only fair to say, though, that if Marshal Canrobert was a polite man and very well bred, he was not at all behind William Busnach in wit. The latter was worked up by the chafing speeches of the Marshal.
“I challenge you, Monsieur,” he exclaimed, “to write about the odious Utopias that you have just been supporting!”
“Oh, Monsieur Busnach,” replied Canrobert coldly, “we do not use the same steel for writing history! You use a pen, and I a sword.”