s the children of the sheikh of
the tribe amused themselves by putting him up for a mark and flinging
horses' knuckle-bones at his head.

Montriveau came back to Paris in 1818 a ruined man. He had no interest,
and wished for none. He would have died twenty times over sooner than
ask a favour of anyone; he would not even press the recognition of his
claims. Adversity and hardship had developed his energy even in trifles,
while the habit of preserving his self-respect before that spiritual
self which we call conscience led him to attach consequence to the most
apparently trivial actions. His merits and adventures became known,
however, through his acquaintances, among the principal men of science
in Paris, and some few well-read military men. The incidents of his
slavery and subsequent escape bore witness to a courage, intelligence,
and coolness which won him celebrity without his knowledge, and that
transient fame of which Paris salons are lavish, though the artist that
fain would keep it must make untold efforts.

Montriveau's position suddenly changed towards the end of that year. He
had been a poor man, he was now rich; or, externally at any rate, he had
all the advantages of wealth. The King's government, trying to attach
capable men to itself and to strengthen the army, made concessions
about that time to Napoleon's old officers if their known loyalty and
character offered guarantees of fidelity. M. de Montriveau's name once
more appeared in the army list with the rank of colonel; he received his
arrears of pay and passed into the Guards. All these favours, one
after another, came to seek the Marquis de Montriveau; he had asked
for nothing however small. Friends had taken the steps for him which he
would have refused to take for himself.

After this, his habits were modified all at once; contrary to his
custom, he went into society. He was well received, everywhere he met
with great deference and respect. He seemed to have found some end
in life; but everything passed within the man, there were no external
signs; in society he was silent and cold, and wore a grave, reserved
face. His social success was great, precisely because he stood out in
such strong contrast to the conventional faces which line the walls
of Paris salons. He was, indeed, something quite new there. Terse
of speech, like a hermit or a savage, his shyness was thought to be
haughtiness, and people were greatly taken with it. He was something
stra