The Dauphin was of an immoveable composure.  He ’stated simple facts:  he was the Dauphin of France, providentially rescued from the Temple in the days of the Terror.’  For this deliverance, somewhat to the consternation of the others, he offered up a short prayer of thanksgiving over his plate.  He had, he said, encountered incredulity.  He had his proofs.  He who had never been on the soil of France since early boyhood, spoke French with a pure accent:  he had the physical and moral constitution of the Family:  owing to events attending his infant days, he was timid.  Jorian imitated him:—­’I start at the opening of a door; I see dark faces in my sleep:  it is a dungeon; I am at the knees of my Unfortunate Royal Father, with my Beautiful Mother.’  His French was quaint, but not absurd.  He became loquacious, apostrophizing vacancy with uplifted hand and eye.  The unwonted invitation to the society of noblemen made him conceive his Dauphinship to be on the high road to a recognition in England, and he was persuaded to drink and exhibit proofs:  which were that he had the constitution of the Family, as aforesaid, in every particular; that he was peculiarly marked with testificatory spots; and that his mere aspect inspired all members and branch members of the Family with awe and stupefaction.  One of the latter hearing of him, had appointed to meet him in a pastrycook’s shop.  He met him, and left the place with a cloud on his brow, showing tokens of respectful sympathy.

Conceive a monomaniacal obese old English citizen, given to lift hand and eye and address the cornices, claiming to be an Illustrious Boy, and calling on a beautiful historic mother and unfortunate Royal sire to attest it!  No wonder the table was shaken with laughter.  He appealed to Tenby constantly, as to the one man he knew in the room.  Tenby it was who made the discovery of him somewhere in the City, where he earned his livelihood either as a corn-merchant; or a stockbroker, or a chronometer-maker, or a drysalter, and was always willing to gratify a customer with the sight of his proofs of identity.  Mr. Tenby made it his business to push his clamorous waggishness for the exhibition.  I could readily believe that my father was more than his match in disposable sallies and weight of humour, and that he shielded the old creature successfully, so long as he had a tractable being to protect.  But the Dauphin was plied with wine, and the marquis had his fun.  Proof upon proof in verification of his claims was proffered by the now-tremulous son of St. Louis—­so he called himself.  With, Jorian admitted, a real courtly dignity, he stood up and proposed to lead the way to any neighbouring cabinet to show the spots on his person; living witnesses to the truth of his allegations, he declared them to be.  The squire had authority for his broad farce, except in so far as he mixed up my father in the swinery of it.