With a few gracious words to Medallion, she bowed and
drove away, leaving Valmond in the midst of an admiring crowd.
He was launched on an adventure as whimsical as tragical, if he was an
impostor; and if he was not, as pathetic as droll. He was scarcely
conscious that Parpon walked beside him, till the dwarf said:
"Hold on, my dauphin, you walk too fast for your poor fool."
CHAPTER V
From this hour Valmond was carried on by a wave of fortune. Before
vespers on that Sunday night, it was common talk that he was a true son
of the Great Napoleon, born at St. Helena.
Why did he come to Pontiac? He wished to be in retirement till his
friends, acting for him in France, gave him the signal, and then with a
small army of French-Canadians he would land in France. Thousands would
gather round his standard, and so marching on to Paris, the Napoleonic
faith would be revived, and he would come into his own. It is possible
that these stories might have been traced to Parpon, but he had covered
up his trail so well that no one followed him.
On that Sunday night, young men and old flocked into Valmond's chambers
at the Louis Quinze, shook hands with him, addressing him as "Your
Excellency" or "Your Highness." He maintained towards them a mysterious
yet kindly reserve, singularly effective. They inspected the martial
furnishing of the room: the drum, the pair of rifles, the pistols, in the
corner, the sabres crossed on the wall, the gold-handled sword that lay
upon the table, and the picture of Napoleon on a white horse against the
wall.
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