The Parisians — Complete by Baron Edward Bulwer Lytton Lytton (best novels ever txt) 📕

the conditions on which she holds her crown to sign a declaration of war, which vast majorities in a Parliament just elected, and a Council of Ministers whom she could not practically replace, enforced upon her will.”

“Your observations, M. Duplessis, impress me strongly, and add to the deep anxieties with which, in common with all my countrymen, I regard the menacing aspect of the present hour. Let us hope the best. Our Government, I know, is exerting itself to the utmost verge of its power, to remove every just ground of offence that the unfortunate nomination of a German Prince to the Spanish throne could not fail to have given to French statesmen.”

“I am glad you concede that such a nomination was a just ground of offence,” said Lemercier, rather bitterly; “for I have met Englishmen who asserted that France had no right to resent any choice of a sovereign that Spain might make.”

“Englishmen in general are not very reflective politicians in foreign affairs,” said Graham; “but those who are must see that France could not, without alarm the most justifiable, contemplate a cordon of hostile states being drawn around her on all sides,—Germany, is, itself so formidable since the field of Sadowa, on the east; a German prince in the southwest; the not improbable alliance between Prussia and the Italian kingdom, already so alienated from the France to which it owed so much. If England would be uneasy were a great maritime power possessed of Antwerp, how much more uneasy might France justly be if Prussia could add the armies of Spain to those of Germany, and launch them both upon France. But that cause of alarm is over—the Hohenzollern is withdrawn. Let us hope for the best.”

The three men had now seated themselves at a table in the Trois Freres, and Lemercier volunteered the task of inspecting the menu and ordering the repast, still keeping guard on Fox.

“Observe that man,” said Duplessis, pointing towards a gentleman who had just entered; “the other day he was the popular hero—now, in the excitement of threatened war, he is permitted to order his bifteck uncongratulated, uncaressed; such is fame at Paris! here to-day and gone to-morrow.”

“How did the man become famous?”

“He is a painter, and refused a decoration—the only French painter who ever did.”

“And why refuse?”

“Because he is more stared at as the man who refused than he would have been as the man who accepted. If ever the Red Republicans have their day, those among them most certain of human condemnation will be the coxcombs who have gone mad for the desire of human applause.”

“You are a profound philosopher, M. Duplessis.”

“I hope not—I have an especial contempt for philosophers. Pardon me a moment—I see a man to whom I would say a word or two.”

Duplessis crossed over to another table to speak to a middle-aged man of somewhat remarkable countenance, with the red ribbon in his buttonhole, in whom Graham recognised an ex-minister of the Emperor, differing from most of those at that day in his Cabinet, in the reputation of being loyal to his master and courageous against a mob. Left thus alone with Lemercier, Graham said:

“Pray tell me where I can find your friend the Marquis de Rochebriant. I called at his apartment this morning, and I was told that he had gone on some visit into the country, taking his valet, and the concierge could not give me his address. I thought myself so lucky on meeting with you, who are sure to know.”

“No, I do not; it is some days since I saw Alain. But Duplessis will be sure to know.” Here the financier rejoined them.

“Mon cher, Grarm Varn wants to know for what Sabine shades Rochebriant has deserted the ‘fumum opes strepitumque’ of the capital.”

“Ah! the Marquis is a friend of yours, Monsieur?”

“I can scarcely boast that honour, but he is an acquaintance whom I should be very glad to see again.”

“At this moment he is at the Duchesse de Tarascon’s country-house near Fontainebleau; I had a hurried line from him two days ago stating that he was going there on her urgent invitation. But he may return to-morrow; at all events he dines with me on the 8th, and I shall be charmed if you will do me the honour to meet him at my house.”

“It is an invitation too agreeable to refuse, and I thank you very much for it.”

Nothing worth recording passed further in conversation between Graham and the two Frenchmen. He left them smoking their cigars in the garden, and walked homeward by the Rue de Rivoli. As he was passing beside the Magasin du Louvre he stopped, and made way for a lady crossing quickly out of the shop towards her carriage at the door. Glancing at him with a slight inclination of her head in acknowledgment of his courtesy, the lady recognised his features,—

“Ah, Mr. Vane!” she cried, almost joyfully—“you are then at Paris, though you have not come to see me.”

“I only arrived last night, dear Mrs. Morley,” said Graham, rather embarrassed, “and only on some matters of business which unexpectedly summoned me. My stay will probably be very short.”

“In that case let me rob you of a few minutes—no, not rob you even of them; I can take you wherever you want to go, and as my carriage moves more quickly than you do on foot, I shall save you the minutes instead of robbing you of them.”

“You are most kind, but I was only going to my hotel, which is close by.”

“Then you have no excuse for not taking a short drive with me in the Champs Elysees—come.”

Thus bidden, Graham could not civilly disobey. He handed the fair American into her carriage, and seated himself by her side.