. declared her belief that he was her prince to be
so firm that she would have died on the scaffold rather than recant.
Without hesitation, she gave up the best apartments of her house for
his use and occupation; she even offered for his acceptance the
remains of her fortune. This, however, he at once refused, asking no
more from her than that she would send for a tailor to equip him with
habiliments more in accordance with his pretensions than the tatters
he then wore. This the countess did, and was not slow in imparting to
her royalist friends of whom she was the honoured hostess. All
acknowledged the extraordinary similarity both in person and manner
which the stranger bore to the royal family. Some were enthusiastic
believers; others, with all their _legitimist_ enthusiasm, were
sceptical. Amongst the former was a certain Monsieur S. de L., who
thought the appearance of the 'prince' a miracle in reference to that
particular time. Louis-Philippe, when he accepted the crown nearly
two years before, had done so with great apparent reluctance. 'How
happy, therefore, will he be,' said this visionary politician, 'to
remove the burden of the state from his own shoulders to those of the
rightful heir to the throne!' But before so curious a proposition was
made to the king of the French, the other royalists consulted M. de
Talleyrand. He replied, with his usual epigrammatic irony, 'There are
some people who are born with two left hands. This is poor S.'s case:
added to which, he seems to have been brought into the world without
brains.' Upon this the party wisely determined to keep the 'prince's'
presence in Paris as quiet as possible. Another of his adherents, M.
de Forbin Janson, the fiery bishop of Nancy, suggested that, as the
illustrious stranger's chance of the throne was somewhat remote, he
should enter the church, in which the highest dignities awaited him.
This was also found to be impracticable when Neuendorf (the name by
which the 'prince' now declared he had hitherto been known) revealed
that he was a married man, and the father of six children.

The more sceptical part of his adherents very naturally wished to
know--supposing his story to be true--how in his early years he
escaped from the Temple; and when the stranger had sufficiently
mastered the French language--which he took but a short time to
acquire--he gave a most circumstantial and plausible account of his
early adventures. His narrative was carefully n