“Ay, but there are considerations beyond that. Much may be said upon both sides. There is danger certainly in organic changes, at the same time we must work out by all means our full and legitimate freedom. What would you do in such a case of perplexity?”
Victor Hugo’s simple and romantic method of deciding between hostile opinions, as exemplified in his valuable drama of Lucrèce Borgia, at once occurred to me.
“Are you quite serious,” said I, “in wishing to effect a change of some kind?”
“I am,” said the Marquis, “as resolute as Prometheus on the Caucasus.”
“Then, suppose we toss for it; and so leave the question of a new cabinet or dynasty entirely to the arbitration of fate?”
“A good and a pious idea!” replied the Marquis de la Pailleterie. “Here is a five-franc piece. I shall toss, and you shall call.”
Up went the dollar, big with the fate of France, twirling in the evening air.
“Heads for a new ministry!” cried I, and the coin fell chinking on the gravel. We both rushed up.
“It is tails!” said the Marquis devoutly. “Destiny! thou hast willed it, and I am but thine instrument. Farewell, my friend; in ten days you shall hear more of this. Meantime, I must be busy. Poor Leontine! thou hast a heavy task before thee!”
“If you are going homewards,” said I, “permit me to accompany you so far. Our way lies together.”