but to bid each other farewell. This is what comes of getting into favor again.”
“Into favor?”
“Yes. You smile. Ah, my dear count, do you know why I have accepted this
enterprise, can you guess?”
“Because your highness loves glory above—everything.”
“Oh! no; there is no glory in firing muskets at savages. I see no glory in that, for my part, and it is more probable that I shall there meet with something
else. But I have wished, and still wish earnestly, my dear count, that my life should have that last facet, after all the whimsical exhibitions I have seen myself make during fifty years. For, in short, you must admit that it is sufficiently strange to be born the grandson of a king, to have made war against kings, to have been reckoned among the powers of the age, to have maintained
