Devereux — Complete by Baron Edward Bulwer Lytton Lytton (best free novels txt) 📖
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* The term roue, now so comprehensive, was first given by the Regent to a select number of his friends; according to them, because they would be broken on the wheel for his sake, according to himself, because they deserved to be so broken.—ED.
A day had now effected a change—a great change—in my fate. A new court, a new theatre of action, a new walk of ambition, were suddenly opened to me. Nothing could be more promising than my first employment; nothing could be more pleasing than the anticipation of the change. “I must force myself to be agreeable to-night,” said I, as I dressed for the Regent’s supper. “I must leave behind me the remembrance of a bon mot, or I shall be forgotten.”
And I was right. In that whirlpool, the capital of France, everything sinks but wit: that is always on the surface; and we must cling to it with a firm grasp, if we would not go down to—“the deep oblivion.”
CHAPTER X. ROYAL EXERTIONS FOR THE GOOD OF THE PEOPLE.
WHAT a singular scene was that private supper with the Regent of France and his roues! The party consisted of twenty: nine gentlemen of the court besides myself; four men of low rank and character, but admirable buffoons; and six ladies, such ladies as the Duke loved best,—witty, lively, sarcastic, and good for nothing.
De Chatran accosted me.
“Je suis ravi, mon cher Monsieur Devereux,” said he, gravely, “to see you in such excellent company: you must be a little surprised to find yourself here!”
“Not at all! every scene is worth one visit. He, my good Monsieur Chatran, who goes to the House of Correction once is a philosopher: he who goes twice is a rogue!”
“Thank you, Count, what am I then? I have been here twenty times.”
“Why, I will answer you with a story. The soul of a Jesuit one night, when its body was asleep, wandered down to the lower regions; Satan caught it, and was about to consign it to some appropriate place; the soul tried hard to excuse itself: you know what a cunning thing a Jesuit’s soul is! ‘Monsieur Satan,’ said the spirit; ‘no king should punish a traveller as he would a native. Upon my honour, I am merely here en voyageur.’ ‘Go then,’ said Satan, and the soul flew back to its body. But the Jesuit died, and came to the lower regions a second time. He was brought before his Satanic majesty, and made the same excuse. ‘No, no,’ cried Beelzebub; ‘once here is to be only le diable voyageur; twice here, and you are le diable tout de bon.’”
“Ha! ha! ha!” said Chatran, laughing; “I then am the diable tout de bon! ‘tis well I am no worse; for we reckon the roues a devilish deal worse than the very worst of the devils,—but see, the Regent approaches us.”
And, leaving a very pretty and gay-looking lady, the Regent sauntered towards us. It was in walking, by the by, that he lost all the grace of his mien. I don’t know, however, that one wishes a great man to be graceful, so long as he’s familiar.
“Aha, Monsieur Devereux!” said he, “we will give you some lessons in cooking to-night; we shall show you how to provide for yourself in that barbarous country which you are about to visit. Tout voyageur doit tout savoir!”
“Avery admirable saying; which leads me to understand that Monseigneur has been a great traveller,” said I.
“Ay, in all things and all places; eh, Count?” answered the Regent, smiling; “but,” here he lowered his voice a little, “I have never yet learned how you came so opportunely to our assistance that night. Dieu me damne! but it reminds me of the old story of the two sisters meeting at a gallant’s house. ‘Oh, Sister, how came you here?’ said one, in virtuous amazement. ‘Ciel! ma soeur!’ cries the other; ‘what brought you?’”*
* The reader will remember a better version of this anecdote in one of the most popular of the English comedies.—ED.
“Monseigneur is pleasant,” said I, laughing; “but a man does now and then (though I own it is very seldom) do a good action, without having previously resolved to commit a bad one!”
“I like your parenthesis,” cried the Regent; “it reminds me of my friend St. Simon, who thinks so ill of mankind that I asked him one day whether it was possible for him to despise anything more than men? ‘Yes,’ said he, with a low bow, ‘women!’”
“His experience,” said I, glancing at the female part of the coterie, “was, I must own, likely to lead him to that opinion.”
“None of your sarcasms, Monsieur,” cried the Regent.
“‘L’amusement est un des besoins de l’homme,’ as I hear young Arouet very pithily said the other day; and we owe gratitude to whomsoever it may be that supplies that want. Now, you will agree with me that none supply it like women therefore we owe them gratitude; therefore we must not hear them abused. Logically proved, I think!”
“Yes, indeed,” said I, “it is a pleasure to find they have so able an advocate; and that your Highness can so well apply to yourself both the assertions in the motto of the great master of fortification, Vauban,—‘I destroy, but I defend.’”
“Enough,” said the Duke, gayly, “now to our fortifzeations;” and he moved away towards the women; I followed the royal example, and soon found myself seated next to a pretty and very small woman. We entered into conversation; and, when once begun, my fair companion took care that it should not cease, without a miracle. By the goddess Facundia, what volumes of words issued from that little mouth! and on all subjects too! church, state, law, politics, play-houses, lampoons, lace, liveries, kings, queens, roturiers, beggars, you would have thought, had you heard her, so vast was her confusion of all things, that chaos had come again. Our royal host did not escape her. “You never before supped here en famille,” said she,—“mon Dieu! it will do your heart good to see how much the Regent will eat. He has such an appetite; you know he never eats any dinner, in order to eat the more at supper. You see that little dark woman he is talking to?—well, she is Madame de Parabere: he calls her his little
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