793, above the storm,--some of whom have 'found,' as the old
song says, 'a haven.' To be anything in France in these days a man must
have been tossed in those tempests."

"It seems to me," said the princess, smiling, "that from that point of
view the present state of things under your regime leaves nothing to be
desired."

A well-bred laugh went round the room, and even the prime minister
himself could not help smiling. The ambassadors seemed impatient for the
tale; de Marsay coughed dryly and silence was obtained.

"On a June night in 1800," began the minister, "about three in the
morning, just as daylight was beginning to pale the brilliancy of the
wax candles, two men tired of playing at _bouillotte_ (or who were
playing merely to keep others employed) left the salon of the ministry
of foreign affairs, then situated in the rue du Bac, and went apart into
a boudoir. These two men, of whom one is dead and the other has _one_
foot in the grave, were, each in his own way, equally extraordinary.
Both had been priests; both had abjured religion; both were married. One
had been merely an Oratorian, the other had worn the mitre of a bishop.
The first was named Fouche; I shall not tell you the name of the
second;[*] both were then mere simple citizens--with very little
simplicity. When they were seen to leave the salon and enter the
boudoir, the rest of the company present showed a certain curiosity. A
third person followed them,--a man who thought himself far stronger than
the other two. His name was Sieyes, and you all know that he too
had been a priest before the Revolution. The one who _walked with
difficulty_ was then the minister of foreign affairs; Fouche was
minister of police; Sieyes had resigned the consulate.

[*] Talleyrand was still living when de Marsay related these
circumstances.

"A small man, cold and stern in appearance, left his seat and followed
the three others, saying aloud in the hearing of the person from whom I
have the information, 'I mistrust the gambling of priests.' This man was
Carnot, minister of war. His remark did not trouble the two consuls who
were playing cards in the salon. Cambaceres and Lebrun were then at the
mercy of their ministers, men who were infinitely stronger than they.

"Nearly all these statesmen are dead, and no secrecy is due to
them. They belong to history; and the history of that night and its
consequences has been terrible. I tell it to you now because I