Balsamo, the Magician; or, The Memoirs of a Physician

"Yes, whether worthless or very valuable."

"My object of search is not worth much," responded Jean, shaking his head. "Only a young fellow of eighteen, named Gilbert, who was in the service of the Taverneys in Lorraine, but was picked up on the road by my sister Chon. She took him to Luciennes, where he abused the hospitality."

"Stole something?"

"I do not say so, but he took flight in a suspicious manner."

"Have you any clue to his hiding place?"

"I met him at the fountain at the corner of Plastrière Street, where I suppose he is living, and I believe I could lay my hand on the very house."

"All right, I will send a sure agent, who will take him out of it!"

"The fact is, this is a special affair, and I should like you to manage it without a third party."

"Oh, in that case, let me pick out a becoming wig and I am with you."

"I have a carriage below."

"Thank you, I prefer my own; it gets a new coat of paint every month, so as not to betray me."

He had tried on his twentieth peruke when the carriage was waiting at the door.

"There it is, the dirty house," said Jean, pointing in the direction of a dwelling in Plastrière street.

"Whew!" said Sartines, "dash me if I did not suspect this. You are unlucky, for that is the dwelling of Rousseau, of Geneva."

"The scribbler? What does that matter?"

"It matters that Rousseau is a man to be dreaded."

"Pooh! it is not likely my little man will be harbored by a celebrity."

"Why not, as you nicknamed him a philosopher? Birds of a feather – you know – "

"Suppose it is so. Why not put this Rousseau in the Bastille if he is in our way?"

"Well, he would be more in our way there than here. You see the mob likes to throw stones at him, but they would pelt us if he was no longer their target, and they want him for themselves. But let us see into this. Sit back in the carriage."

He referred to a notebook.

"I have it. If your young blade is with Rousseau, when would he have met him?"

"Say, on the sixteenth instant."

"Good! he returned from botanizing in Meudon Wood on the seventeenth with a youth, and this stranger stayed all night under his roof. You are crossed by luck. Give it up or you would have all the philosophers against us in riot."

"Oh, Lord! what will sister Jeanne say?"

"Oh, does the countess want the lad? Why not coax him out, and then we would nab him, anywhere not inside Rousseau's house?"

"You might as well coax a hyena."

"I doubt it is so difficult. All you want is a go-between. Let me see; a prince will not do; better one of these writers, a poet, a philosopher or a bota – stay, I have him!"

"Gilbert?"

"Yes, through a botanist friend of Rousseau's. You know Jussieu?"

"Yes, for the countess lets him prowl in her gardens and rifle them."

"I begin to believe that you shall have your Gilbert, without any noise. Rousseau will hand him over, pinioned, so to say. So you go on making a trap for philosophers, according to a plan I will give you, on vacant ground out Meudon or Marly way. Now, let us be off, as the passengers are beginning to stare at us. Home, coachman!"

CHAPTER XLV

TOO GOOD A TEACHER

Fatigued by the ceremonies of the dauphin's nuptials, and particularly by the dinner, which was too stately, the king retired at nine o'clock and dismissed all attendants except Duke Vauguyon, tutor of the royal children. As he was losing his best pupil by the marriage, having only his two brothers to teach, and as it is the custom to reward a preceptor when education of a charge is complete, he expected a recompense.

He had been sobbing, and now he slipped out a pockethandkerchief and began to weep.

"Come, my poor Vauguyon," said the king, pointing to a foot-stool in the light, while he would be in the shade, "pray be seated, without any to-do."

The duke sighed.

"The education is over, and you have turned out in the prince royal the best educated prince in Europe."

"I believe he is."

"Good at history, and geography, and at wood-turning – "

"The praise for that goes to another, sire."

"And at setting timepieces in order. Before he handled them, my clocks told the time one after another like wheels of a coach; but he has put them right. In short, the heir to the crown will, I believe, be a good king, a good manager, and a good father of family. I suppose he will be a good father?" he insisted.

"Why, your majesty," said Vauguyon simply, "I consider that as the dauphin has all the germs of good in his bosom, those that constitute that are in the cluster."

"Come, come, my lord," said the sovereign, "let us speak plainly. As you know the dauphin thoroughly, you must know all about his tastes and his passions – "

"Pardon me, sire, but I have extirpated all his passions."

"Confound it all! this is just what I feared!" exclaimed Louis XV., with an energy which made the hearer's wig stand its hairs on end.

"Sire, the Duke of Berri has lived under your august roof with the innocence of the studious youth."

"But the youth is now a married man."

"Sire, as the guide of – "