No longer could any one walk, talk, write, or rise.

That perplexed him.

Had he been sincere, he would have avowed that he could not comprehend that there could be storms, or thunder-clouds in the heavens--that the world was not perfectly happy and tranquil, while he himself was so.

When his nephew was old enough to comprehend him, Baron Tonnelier was no longer peer of France; but being one who does himself no hurt--and sometimes much good by a fall, he filled a high office under the new government.
He endeavored to discharge its duties conscientiously, as he had those of the preceding reign.
He spoke with peculiar ease of suppressing this or that journal--such an orator, such a book; of suppressing everything, in short, except himself.

In his view, France had been in the wrong road since 1789, and he sought to lead her back from that fatal date.
Nevertheless, he never spoke of returning, in his proper person, to his grandfather's mill; which, to say the least, was inconsistent.