The Moon Endureth | Page 7

a gaunt loose-limbed being, high-featured and swift and eager.
He was dressed wholly in black velvet, with fresh ruffles and
wristbands, and he wore heeled shoes with antique silver buckles. It
was a figure of an older age which rose to greet me, in one hand a
snuff-box and a purple handkerchief, and in the other a book with
finger marking place. He made me a great bow as Madame uttered my
name, and held out a hand with a kindly smile.
"Mr. Hervey-Townshend," he said, "we will speak English, if you
please. I am fain to hear it again, for 'tis a tongue I love. I make you
welcome, sir, for your own sake and for the sake of your kin. How is
her honourable ladyship, your aunt? A week ago she sent me a letter."
I answered that she did famously, and wondered what cause of
correspondence my worthy aunt could have with wandering nobles of
Italy.

He motioned me to a chair between Madame and himself, while a
servant set a candle on a shelf behind him. Then he proceeded to
catechise me in excellent English, with now and then a phrase of
French, as to the doings in my own land. Admirably informed this
Italian gentleman proved himself. I defy you to find in Almack's more
intelligent gossip. He inquired as to the chances of my Lord North and
the mind of my Lord Rockingham. He had my Lord Shelburne's foibles
at his fingers' ends. The habits of the Prince, the aims of the their
ladyships of Dorset and Buckingham, the extravagance of this noble
Duke and that right honourable gentleman were not hid from him. I
answered discreetly yet frankly, for there was no ill-breeding in his
curiosity. Rather it seemed like the inquiries of some fine lady, now
buried deep in the country, as to the doings of a forsaken Mayfair.
There was humour in it and something of pathos.
"My aunt must be a voluminous correspondent, sir," I said.
He laughed, "I have many friends in England who write to me, but I
have seen none of them for long, and I doubt I may never see them
again. Also in my youth I have been in England." And he sighed as at
sorrowful recollection.
Then he showed the book in his hand. "See," he said, "here is one of
your English writings, the greatest book I have ever happened on." It
was a volume of Mr. Fielding. For a little he talked of books and poets.
He admired Mr. Fielding profoundly, Dr. Smollet somewhat less, Mr.
Richardson not at all. But he was clear that England had a monopoly of
good writers, saving only my friend M. Rousseau, whom he valued, yet
with reservations. Of the Italians he had no opinion. I instanced against
him the plays of Signor Alfieri. He groaned, shook his head, and grew
moody.
"Know you Scotland?" he asked suddenly.
I replied that I had visited Scotch cousins, but had no great estimation
for the country. "It is too poor and jagged," I said, "for the taste of one
who loves colour and sunshine and suave outlines." He sighed. "It is
indeed a bleak land, but a kindly. When the sun shines at all he shines
on the truest hearts in the world. I love its bleakness too. There is a
spirit in the misty hills and the harsh sea-wind which inspires men to
great deeds. Poverty and courage go often together, and my Scots, if
they are poor, are as untamable as their mountains."

"You know the land, sir?" I asked.
"I have seen it, and I have known many Scots. You will find them in
Paris and Avignon and Rome, with never a plack in their pockets. I
have a feeling for exiles, sir, and I have pitied these poor people. They
gave their all for the cause they followed."
Clearly the Count shared my aunt's views of history--those views which
have made such sport for us often at Carteron. Stalwart Whig as I am,
there was something in the tone of the old gentleman which made me
feel a certain majesty in the lost cause.
"I am Whig in blood and Whig in principle," I said,--"but I have never
denied that those Scots who followed the Chevalier were too good to
waste on so trumpery a leader."
I had no sooner spoken the words than I felt that somehow I had been
guilty of a betise.
"It may be so," said the Count. "I did not bid you here, sir, to argue on
politics, on which I am assured we should differ. But I will ask you one
question. The King of England is a stout upholder of the right of kings.
How does he face the