"So be it. They shall see him. Oh, I am sick to death of fine
sentiments and high loyalty and all the vapouring stuff I have
lived among for years. All I ask for myself and my father is a
little peace, and, by Heaven! I shall secure it. If nothing
will kill your gentlemen's folly but truth, why, truth they shall
have. They shall see my father, and this very minute. Bring
them up, Mr. Townshend, and usher them into the presence of the
rightful King of England. You will find him alone." She
stopped her walk and looked out of the window.

I went back in a hurry to the Americans. "I am bidden to bring
you to the Count's chamber. He is alone and will see you. These
are the commands of madame his daughter."

"Good!" said Mr. Galloway, and all four, grave gentlemen as they
were, seemed to brace themselves to a special dignity as befitted
ambassadors to a king. I led them upstairs, tapped at the
Count's door, and, getting no answer, opened it and admitted
them.

And this was what we saw. The furniture was in disorder, and on a
couch lay an old man sleeping a heavy drunken sleep. His mouth
was open and his breath came stertorously. The face was purple,
and large purple veins stood out on the mottled forehead. His
scanty white hair was draggled over his cheek. On the floor was
a broken glass, wet stains still lay on the boards, and the place
reeked of spirits. The four looked for a second--I do not think
longer at him whom they would have made their king. They did not
look at each other. With one accord they moved out, and Mr.