e example, and the sum was made up. De
Morny lost, and was about to rise from the table, when they said--

"Have your revenge."

"Very well; ten thousand on the black."

He lost again. Most grand seigneurs would have got up without saying
anything. Twenty thousand francs was, after all, not an important sum to
him, and I feel, moreover, certain that it was not the loss of the money
that vexed him. But he felt bound to emphasize his indifference.

"There, that will do. I trust I shall be left in peace now."

My informant considered this exceedingly _talon rouge_; I did not.

A story of a similar kind, when he was a simple deputy. A bigwig, with
an inordinate ambition to become a minister, invited him to dinner. He
had been told that his host was in the habit of drinking a rare Bordeaux
which was only offered to one or two guests, quietly pointed out by the
former to the servant. At the question of the latter whether he (M. de
Morny) would take Brane-Mouton or Ermitage, he pointed to the famous
bottle that had been hidden away. The servant, as badly trained as the
master, looked embarrassed, but at last filled De Morny's glass with the
precious nectar. De Morny simply poured it into a tumbler and diluted it
with water.

Ridiculous as it may seem, De Morny often spoke and acted as if he had
royal blood in his veins, and in that respect scarcely considered
himself inferior to Colonna Walewski, of whose origin there could be no
doubt. A glance at the man's face was sufficient. Both frequently spoke
and acted as if Louis-Napoleon occupied the Imperial throne by their
good will, and that, therefore, he was, in a measure, bound to dance to
their fiddling. Outwardly these two were fast friends, up to a certain
period; I fancy that their common hatred of De Persigny was the
strongest link of that bond. In reality they were as jealous of one
another and of their influence over the Emperor as they were of De
Persigny and his. The latter, who was well aware of all this, frankly
averred that he preferred Walewski's undisguised and outspoken hostility
to De Morny's very questionable cordiality. "The one would take my head
like Judith took Holofernes', the other would shave it like Delilah
shaved Samson's, provided I trusted myself to either, which I am not
likely to do."

It was De Persigny who told me the substance of the following story, and
I believe every word of it, because, first, I never caught De Persigny
telling a de