THE AMBASSADOR.
On the evening of the next day a traveling-carriage passed through the
Barrière d’Enfer, so covered with dust and scratches that no one could
discern the arms. The four horses that drew it went at a rapid pace,
until it arrived before an hotel of handsome appearance, in the Rue de
la Jussienne, at the door of which two men, one of whom was in full
dress, were waiting. The carriage entered the courtyard of the hotel,
and one of the persons waiting approached the door, and commenced
speaking in bad Portuguese.
“Who are you?” said a voice from the inside, speaking the language
perfectly.
“The unworthy chancellor of the embassy, your excellency.”
“Very well. Mon Dieu! how badly you speak our language, my dear
chancellor! But where are we to go?”
“This way, monseigneur.”
“This is a poor reception,” said Don Manoël, as he got out of the
carriage, leaning on the arms of his secretary and valet.
“Your excellency must pardon me,” said the chancellor, “but the courier
announcing your arrival only reached the hotel at two o’clock to-day. I
was absent on some business, and when I returned, found your
excellency’s letter; I have only had time to have the rooms opened and
lighted.”
“Very good.”
“It gives me great pleasure to see the illustrious person of our
ambassador.”
“We desire to keep as quiet as possible,” said Don Manoël, “until we
receive further orders, from Lisbon. But pray show me to my room, for I
am dying with fatigue; my secretary will give you all necessary
directions.”
The chancellor bowed respectfully to Beausire, who returned it, and
then said, “We will speak French, sir; I think it will be better for
both of us.”
“Yes,” murmured the chancellor, “I shall be more at my ease; for I
confess that my pronunciation——”
“So I hear,” interrupted Beausire.
“I will take the liberty to say to you, sir, as you seem so amiable,
that I trust M. de Souza will not be annoyed at my speaking such bad
Portuguese.”
“Oh, not at all, as you speak French.”
“French!” cried the chancellor; “I was born in the Rue St. Honoré.”
“Oh, that will do,” said Beausire. “Your name is Ducorneau, is it not?”
“Yes, monsieur; rather a lucky one, as it has a Spanish termination. It
is very flattering to me that monsieur knew my name.”
“Oh, you are well known; so well that we did not bring a chancellor
from Lisbon with us.”
“I am very grateful, monsieur; but I think M. de Souza is ringing.”
“Let us go and see.”
They found Manoël attired in a magnificent dressing-gown. Several boxes
and dressing-cases, of rich appearance, were already unpacked and lying
about.
“Enter,” said he to the chancellor.
“Will his excellency be angry if I answer in French?” said Ducorneau,
in a low voice, to Beausire.
“Oh, no; I am sure of it.”
M. Ducorneau, therefore, paid the compliments in French.
“Oh, it is very convenient that you speak French so well, M. Ducorno,”
said the ambassador.
“He takes me for a Portuguese,” thought the chancellor, with joy.
“Now,” said Manoël, “can I have supper?”
“Certainly, your excellency. The Palais Royal is only two steps from
here, and I know an excellent restaurant, from which your excellency
can have a good supper in a very short time.”
“Order it in your own name, if you please, M. Ducorno.”
“And if your excellency will permit me, I will add to it some bottles
of capital wine.”
“Oh, our chancellor keeps a good cellar, then?” said Beausire,
jokingly.
“It is my only luxury,” replied he. And now, by the wax-lights, they
could remark his rather red nose and puffed cheeks.
“Very well, M. Ducorno; bring your wine, and sup with us.”
“Such an honor——”
“Oh, no etiquette to-night; I am only a traveler. I shall not begin to
be ambassador till to-morrow; then we will talk of business.”
“Monseigneur will permit me to arrange my toilet.”
“Oh, you are superb already,” said Beausire.
“Yes, but this is a reception dress, and not a gala one.”
“Remain as you are, monsieur, and give the time to expediting our
supper.”
Ducorneau, delighted, left the room to fulfil his orders. Then the
three rogues, left together, began to discuss their affairs.
“Does this chancellor sleep here?” said Manoël.
“No; the fellow has a good cellar, and, I doubt not, a snug lodging
somewhere or other. He is an old bachelor.”
“There is a Suisse.”
“We must get rid of him; and there are a few valets, whom we must
replace to-morrow with our own friends.”
“Who is in the kitchen department?”
“No one. The old ambassador did not live here; he had a house in the
town.”
“What about the strong-box?”
“Oh, on that point we must consult the chancellor; it is a delicate
matter.”
“I charge myself with it,” said Beausire; “we are already capital
friends.”
“Hush! here he comes.”
Ducorneau entered, quite out of breath. He had ordered the supper, and
fetched six bottles of wine from his cellar, and was looking quite
radiant at the thoughts of the coming repast.
“Will your excellency descend to the dining-room?”
“No, we will sup up here.”
“Here is the wine, then,” said Ducorneau.
“It sparkles like rubies,” said Beausire, holding it to the light.
“Sit down, M. Ducorneau; my valet will wait upon us. What day did the
last despatches arrive?”
“Immediately after the departure of your excellency’s predecessor.”
“Are the affairs of the embassy in good order?”
“Oh yes, monseigneur.”
“No money difficulties? no debts?”
“Not that I know of.”
“Because, if there are, we must begin by paying them.”
“Oh, your excellency will have nothing of that sort to do. All the
accounts were paid up three weeks ago; and the day after the departure
of the late ambassador one hundred thousand francs arrived here.”
“One hundred thousand francs?” said Beausire.
“Yes, in gold.”
“So,” said Beausire, “the box contains——”
“100,380 francs, monsieur.”
“It is not much,” said Manoël, coldly; “but, happily, her majesty has
placed funds at my disposal. I told you,” continued he, turning to
Beausire, “that I thought we should need it at Paris.”
“Your excellency took wise precautions,” said Beausire, respectfully.
From the time of this important communication the hilarity of the party
went on increasing. A good supper, consisting of salmon, crabs, and
sweets, contributed to their satisfaction. Ducorneau, quite at his
ease, ate enough for ten, and did not fail, either, in demonstrating
that a Parisian could do honor to port and sherry.