“I have sent him to my hotel. He was in reality very near becoming an actual child of France.” And I told the story of the nuptials, at which the ouvrier nearly split himself with laughter.
“And now, Mr Dunshunner,” said he at length, “may I ask the nature of your plans?”
“These may depend a good deal upon your advice,” said I.
“I never give advice,” replied the ouvrier with a nasal twitch. “Sometimes it is rather dangerous. But tell me—what would you think of the state of the British government, if Earl Grey at a cabinet-council were to threaten to call in the mob, and if Lord Johnny Russell prevented him by clapping a pistol to his ear?”
“I should think very badly of it indeed,” said I.
“Or if Incapability Wood should threaten, in the event of the populace appearing, to produce from the Earl’s pocket a surreptitious order on the treasury for something like twelve thousand pounds?”
“Worse still.”
“Well, then; I don’t think you’ll find that sort of thing going on in London, at all events.”
“Have you any commands for the other side of the Channel?”
“Oh, then, you are determined to leave? Well, perhaps upon the whole it is your wisest plan. And—I say—just tell them that if things look worse, I may be over one of these fine mornings. Good-bye.”