him, and spoke of him as the most thorough Vendeen of them all.
Notwithstanding this ovation, none of these august persons thought of
inquiring as to the sum of his losses, or of the money he had poured
so generously into the chests of the Catholic regiments. He
discovered, a little late, that he had made war at his own cost.
Towards the end of the evening he thought he might venture on a witty
allusion to the state of his affairs, similar, as it was, to that of
many other gentlemen. His Majesty laughed heartily enough; any speech
that bore the hall-mark of wit was certain to please him; but he
nevertheless replied with one of those royal pleasantries whose
sweetness is more formidable than the anger of a rebuke. One of the
King's most intimate advisers took an opportunity of going up to the
fortune-seeking Vendeen, and made him understand by a keen and polite
hint that the time had not yet come for settling accounts with the
sovereign; that there were bills of much longer standing than his on
the books, and there, no doubt, they would remain, as part of the
history of the Revolution. The Count prudently withdrew from the
venerable group, which formed a respectful semi-circle before the
august family; then, having extricated his sword, not without some
difficulty, from among the lean legs which had got mixed up with it,
he crossed the courtyard of the Tuileries and got into the hackney cab
he had left on the quay. With the restive spirit, which is peculiar to
the nobility of the old school, in whom still survives the memory of
the League and the day of the Barricades (in 1588), he bewailed
himself in his cab, loudly enough to compromise him, over the change
that had come over the Court. "Formerly," he said to himself, "every
one could speak freely to the King of his own little affairs; the
nobles could ask him a favor, or for money, when it suited them, and
nowadays one cannot recover the money advanced for his service without
raising a scandal! By Heaven! the cross of Saint-Louis and the rank of