"
"Be quite easy, my children; Death thinks twice of it before carrying
off a Mayor of Paris," said he, with monstrous composure. "And if,
after all, my district is so unfortunate as to lose a man it has twice
honored with its suffrages--you see, what a flow of words I have!
--Well, I shall know how to pack up and go. I have been a commercial
traveler; I am experienced in such matters. Ah! my children, I am a
man of strong mind."
"Papa, promise me to admit the Church--"
"Never," replied Crevel. "What is to be said? I drank the milk of
Revolution; I have not Baron Holbach's wit, but I have his strength of
mind. I am more _Regence_ than ever, more Musketeer, Abbe Dubois, and
Marechal de Richelieu! By the Holy Poker!--My wife, who is wandering
in her head, has just sent me a man in a gown--to me! the admirer of
Beranger, the friend of Lisette, the son of Voltaire and Rousseau.
--The doctor, to feel my pulse, as it were, and see if sickness had
subdued me--'You saw Monsieur l'Abbe?' said he.--Well, I imitated the
great Montesquieu. Yes, I looked at the doctor--see, like this," and
he turned to show three-quarters face, like his portrait, and extended
his hand authoritatively--"and I said:
"The slave was here,
He showed his order, but he nothing gained.
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