'There are a good many men here who would risk something to have Savary address them as he addressed you.

The Emperor is certainly going to do something for you.
But attention, friend, for here is Monsieur de Talleyrand himself coming towards us.' A singular-looking person was shuffling in our direction.

He was a man about fifty years of age, largely made about the shoulders and chest, but stooping a good deal, and limping heavily in one leg.

He walked slowly, leaning upon a silver-headed stick, and his sober suit of black, with silk stockings of the same hue, looked strangely staid among the brilliant uniforms which surrounded him.

But in spite of his plain dress there was an expression of great authority upon his shrewd face, and every one drew back with bows and salutes as he moved across the tent.
'Monsieur Louis de Laval ?' said he, as he stopped in front of me, and his cold grey eyes played over me from head to heel.
I bowed, and with some coldness, for I shared the dislike which my father used to profess for this unfrocked priest and perjured politician; but his manner was so polished and engaging that it was hard to hold out against it.
'I knew your cousin de Rohan very well indeed,' said he.