"He is here, Sire."
"Come on!" replied the King.
The horses moved backward with the carriage; the door was opened, the King got down and dragged himself back to his apartment, followed by the limping minister. There M. de Talleyrand began an angry explanation. His Majesty listened to him, and answered:
"Prince de Bénévent, so you're leaving us? The waters will do you good: you must send us your news."
The King left the prince open-mouthed, had himself taken back to his berlin, and drove away.
M. de Talleyrand was foaming with rage; Louis XVIII.'s composure had staggered him: he, M. de Talleyrand, who prided himself so greatly on his composure, to be beaten on his own ground, given the slip, on a square at Mons, like the most insignificant of men: he could not get over it! He remained dumb, watched the coach moving off, and then, seizing the Duc de Lévis by a button of his spencer:
"Go, monsieur le duc, go and say how I am treated! I have put back the crown on the King's head"—he was always harking back to that crown—"and I am going back to Germany to begin the new Emigration."
M. de Lévis, listening absent-mindedly, lifting himself on his toes, said:
"Prince, I am going; the King must have at least one great lord with him."