so eminent a man at the side of one's desk, revealing for
one's guidance the secrets of sovereigns and cabinets.
Great names were mentioned in the course of this
dissertation--mentioned with the authoritative ease of one
who dined with princes and prime ministers--and Thorpe
felt that he shared in the distinction of this familiarity
with the august. He was in the position of paying a salary
to this courtly old nobleman and statesman, who could tell
him of his own intimate knowledge how Emperors conversed
with one another; how the Pope fidgeted in his ornate-carved
chair when the visitor talked on unwelcome topics;
how a Queen and an opera-bouffe dancer waged an obscure
and envenomed battle for the possession of a counting-house
strong box, and in the outcome a nation was armed
with inferior old muskets instead of modern weapons,
and the girl got the difference expressed in black pearls.

These reminiscences seemed to alter the atmosphere,
and even the appearance, of the Board Room. It was
almost as if the apartment itself was becoming historic,
like those chambers they pointed out to the tourist wherein
crowned heads had slept. The manner of the Marquis lent
itself charmingly to this illusion. He spoke in a facile,
mellifluous voice, and as fluently as if he had been
at work for a long time preparing a dissertation on
this subject, instead of taking it up now by chance.
In his tone, in his gestures, in the sustained friendliness
of his facial expressions, there was a palpable desire
to please his auditor--and Thorpe gave more heed to this
than to the thread of the discourse. The facts that he