"But the prince rejected the proposal?" said he, peering at me beneath the dark shadow of his heavy brow; "he would not hear of it?"
"Of course not," cried I; "he even threatened to denounce the man to the government."
"And do you think that he would have gone thus far, sir?" asked he, slowly.
"I am certain of it. The horror and disgust he expressed when reciting the story were a guarantee for what he would have done."
"But yet Bonaparte has been a dreadful enemy to his race," said the count.
"It is not a Condé can right himself by a murder," said I as calmly.
"How I like that burst of generous royalism, young man!" said he, grasping my hand and shaking it warmly. "That steadfast faith in the honor of a Bourbon is the very heart and soul of loyalty!"
Now, although I was not, so far as I knew of, any thing of a Royalist—the cause had neither my sympathy nor my wishes—I did not choose to disturb the equanimity of a poor sick man by a needless disclaimer, nor induce a discussion which must be both unprofitable and painful.
"How did the fellow propose the act? had he any accomplices? or was he alone?"
"I believe quite alone."