LITMIR.BIZ

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was addressed to a man about thirty-eight years of age, short, fair-haired, and with high shoulders; his eye a clear blue, now bright, but oftener with a pensive expression, and with nobility stamped unmistakably on his open and manly forehead.

      "I only drink water, marshal," he replied.

      "Excepting with Louis XV.," returned the marshal; "I had the honor of dining at his table with you, and you deigned that day to drink wine."

      "Ah! you recall a pleasing remembrance, marshal; that was in 1771. It was tokay, from the imperial cellar."

      "It was like that with which my maître-d'hôtel will now have the honor to fill your glass," replied Richelieu, bowing.

      Count Haga raised his glass, and looked through it. The wine sparkled in the light like liquid rubies. "It is true," said he; "marshal, I thank you."

      These words were uttered in a manner so noble, that the guests, as if by a common impulse, rose, and cried, —

      "Long live the king!"

      "Yes," said Count Haga, "long live his majesty the King of France. What say you, M. de la Pérouse?"

      "My lord," replied the captain, with that tone, at once flattering and respectful, common to those accustomed to address crowned heads, "I have just left the king, and his majesty has shown me so much kindness, that no one will more willingly cry 'Long live the king' than I. Only, as in another hour I must leave you to join the two ships which his majesty has put at my disposal, once out of this house, I shall take the liberty of saying, 'Long life to another king, whom I should be proud to serve, had I not already so good a master.'"

      "This health that you propose," said Madame Dubarry, who sat on the marshal's left hand, "we are all ready to drink, but the oldest of us should take the lead."

      "Is it you, that that concerns, or me, Taverney?" said the marshal, laughing.

      "I do not believe," said another on the opposite side, "that M. de Richelieu is the senior of our party."

      "Then it is you, Taverney," said the duke.

      "No, I am eight years younger than you! I was born in 1704," returned he.

      "How rude," said the marshal, "to expose my eighty-eight years."

      "Impossible, duke! that you are eighty-eight," said M. de Condorcet.

      "It is, however, but too true; it is a calculation easy to make, and therefore unworthy of an algebraist like you, marquis. I am of the last century – the great century, as we call it. My date is 1696."

      "Impossible!" cried De Launay.

      "Oh, if your father were here, he would not say impossible, he, who, when governor of the Bastile, had me for a lodger in 1714."

      "The senior in age, here, however," said M. de Favras, "is the wine Count Haga is now drinking."

      "You are right, M. de Favras; this wine is a hundred and twenty years old; to the wine, then, belongs the honor – "

      "One moment, gentlemen," said Cagliostro, raising his eyes, beaming with intelligence and vivacity; "I claim the precedence."

      "You claim precedence over the tokay!" exclaimed all the guests in chorus.

      "Assuredly," returned Cagliostro, calmly; "since it was I who bottled it."

      "You?"

      "Yes, I; on the day of the victory won by Montecucully over the Turks in 1664."

      A burst of laughter followed these words, which Cagliostro had pronounced with perfect gravity.

      "By this calculation, you would be something like one hundred and thirty years old," said Madame Dubarry; "for you must have been at least ten years old when you bottled the wine."

      "I was more than ten when I performed that operation, madame, as on the following day I had the honor of being deputed by his majesty the Emperor of Austria to congratulate Montecucully, who by the victory of St. Gothard had avenged the day at Especk, in Sclavonia, in which the infidels treated the imperialists so roughly, who were my friends and companions in arms in 1536."

      "Oh," said Count Haga, as coldly as Cagliostro himself, "you must have been at least ten years old, when you were at that memorable battle."

      "A terrible defeat, count," returned Cagliostro.

      "Less terrible than Cressy, however," said Condorcet, smiling.

      "True, sir, for at the battle of Cressy, it was not only an army, but all France, that was beaten; but then this defeat was scarcely a fair victory to the English; for King Edward had cannon, a circumstance of which Philip de Valois was ignorant, or rather, which he would not believe, although I warned him that I had with my own eyes seen four pieces of artillery which Edward had bought from the Venetians."

      "Ah," said Madame Dubarry; "you knew Philip de Valois?"

      "Madame, I had the honor to be one of the five lords who escorted him off the field of battle; I came to France with the poor old King of Bohemia, who was blind, and who threw away his life when he heard that the battle was lost."

      "Ah, sir," said M. de la Pérouse, "how much I regret, that instead of the battle of Cressy, it was not that of Actium at which you assisted."

      "Why so, sir?"

      "Oh, because you might have given me some nautical details, which, in spite of Plutarch's fine narration, have ever been obscure to me."

      "Which, sir? I should be happy to be of service to you."

      "Oh, you were there, then, also?"

      "No, sir; I was then in Egypt. I had been employed by Queen Cleopatra to restore the library at Alexandria – an office for which I was better qualified than any one else, from having personally known the best authors of antiquity."

      "And you have seen Queen Cleopatra?" said Madame Dubarry.

      "As I now see you, madame."

      "Was she as pretty as they say?"

      "Madame, you know beauty is only comparative; a charming queen in Egypt, in Paris she would only have been a pretty grisette."

      "Say no harm of grisettes, count."

      "God forbid!"

      "Then Cleopatra was – "

      "Little, slender, lively, and intelligent; with large almond-shaped eyes, a Grecian nose, teeth like pearls, and a hand like your own, countess – a fit hand to hold a scepter. See, here is a diamond which she gave me, and which she had had from her brother Ptolemy; she wore it on her thumb."

      "On her thumb?" cried Madame Dubarry.

      "Yes; it was an Egyptian fashion; and I, you see, can hardly put it on my little finger;" and taking off the ring, he handed it to Madame Dubarry.

      It was a magnificent diamond, of such fine water, and so beautifully cut, as to be worth thirty thousand or forty thousand francs.

      The diamond was passed round the table, and returned to Cagliostro, who, putting it quietly on his finger again, said, "Ah, I see well you are all incredulous; this fatal incredulity I have had to contend against all my life. Philip de Valois would not listen to me, when I told him to leave open a retreat to Edward; Cleopatra would not believe me when I warned her that Antony would be beaten: the Trojans would not credit me, when I said to them, with reference to the wooden horse, 'Cassandra is inspired; listen to Cassandra.'"

      "Oh! it is charming," said Madame Dubarry, shaking with laughter; "I have never met a man at once so serious and so diverting."

      "I assure you," replied Cagliostro, "that Jonathan was much more so. He was really a charming companion; until he was killed by Saul, he nearly drove me crazy with laughing."

      "Do you know," said the Duke de Richelieu, "if you go on in this way you will drive poor Taverney crazy; he is so afraid of death, that he is staring at you with all his eyes, hoping you to be an immortal."

      "Immortal I cannot say, but one thing I can affirm – "

      "What?" cried Taverney, who was the most eager listener.

      "That

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