“No, Monsieur—I do not say that.”
“Then the Emperor would have turned many friends
into enemies, and no enemies into friends.”
“Monsieur—you in England know that
a party in opposition is not propitiated when the
party in power steals its measures. Ha!—pardon
me, who is that gentleman, evidently your countryman,
whom I see yonder talking to the Secretary of your
Embassy?”
“He.—Mr. Vane-Graham Vane.
Do you not know him? He has been much in Paris,
attached to our Embassy formerly; a clever man—much
is expected from him.”
“Ah! I think I have seen him before, but
am not quite sure. Did you say Vane? I
once knew a Monsieur Vane, a distinguished parliamentary
orator.”
“That gentleman is his son—would
you like to be introduced to him?”
“Not to-day—I am in some hurry.”
Here Victor lifted his hat in parting salutation,
and as he walked away cast at Graham another glance
keen and scrutinising. “I have seen that
man before,” he muttered, “where?—
when?—can it be only a family likeness to
the father? No, the features are different;
the profile is—ha!—Mr. Lamb,
Mr. Lamb—but why call himself by that name?—why
disguised?—what can he have to do with poor
Louise? Bah—these are not questions
I can think of now. This war—this
war—can it yet be prevented? How it
will prostrate all the plans my ambition so carefully
schemed! Oh!—at least if I were but
in the Chamber. Perhaps I yet may be before
the war is ended—the Clavignys have great
interest in their department.”
Graham had left a note with Rochebriant’s concierge
requesting an interview on the Marquis’s return
to Paris, and on the evening after the day just commemorated
he received a line, saying that Alain had come back,
and would be at home at nine o’clock. Graham
found himself in the Breton’s apartment punctually
at the hour indicated.
Alain was in high spirits: he burst at once into
enthusiastic exclamations on the virtual announcement
of war.
“Congratulate me, mon cher!” he cried—“the
news was a joyous surprise to me. Only so recently
as yesterday morning I was under the gloomy apprehension
that the Imperial Cabinet would continue to back Ollivier’s
craven declaration ‘that France had not been
affronted!’ The Duchesse de Tarascon, at whose
campagne I was a guest, is (as you doubtless know)
very much in the confidence of the Tuileries.
On the first signs of war, I wrote to her, saying
that whatever the objections of my pride to enter
the army as a private in time of peace, such objections
ceased on the moment when all distinctions of France
must vanish in the eyes of sons eager to defend her
banners. The Duchesse in reply begged me to come
to her campagne and talk over the matter.
I went; she then said that if war should break out
it was the intention to organise the Mobiles
