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Updated: May 22, 2025
Be as explicit as you can, I pray you, so that there may be no danger of our going astray." The agent of the Comte de Pommereuil accordingly gave the most minute and exact directions possible, but ended by saying, "Never mind, you need not burden your memory with all these troublesome details! I will send you a lackey to serve as guide."
He appeared to be the major-domo, or steward, of some great nobleman's establishment, and, in effect, announced to Herode that he had been sent to consult with him, as manager of the troupe, by his master, the Comte de Pommereuil. This highly respectable old functionary was richly dressed in black velvet, and had a heavy gold chain round his neck.
When Herode asked an old peasant woman, who came by with a bundle of fagots on her back, how far it was to the Chateau de Pommereuil, she answered that there was no place of that name anywhere in the country round.
"Yes, I have the honour to be the man you seek," the tyrant answered, bowing very graciously. "The Comte de Pommereuil greatly desires to have you give one of your celebrated representations at his chateau, where guests of high rank are sojourning at this moment, and I have come to ascertain whether it will be possible for you to do so. The distance is not very considerable, only a few leagues.
Here is a purse containing a hundred pistoles that the Comte de Pommereuil charged me to put into your hands, to defray the expenses of the journey. You will receive as much more before you return, and there will be handsome presents for the actresses forthcoming, of valuable jewels, as souvenirs of the occasion."
"But how the devil did he get wind of our expedition to the Chateau de Pommereuil? or can it be possible that it was all a plot from the beginning, and we are bound on a fool's errand? I really begin to think it must be so. If it is true, I never saw a better actor in my life than that respectable old major-domo, confound him!
The King of England followed by his officers, all on foot, walking down the little street of the old French town, while both pavements were packed with soldiers and French civilians, who cheered, shouted, sang and rushed into the road to gain a nearer view of His Majesty. In January we moved to Pommereuil, a clean little village, where Mayor and people did their utmost to make us comfortable.
On Wednesday morning, as the comedians were finishing the packing of their chariot, which stood ready for departure in the courtyard of the hotel, with a pair of fine spirited horses before it that the tyrant had hired for the journey, a tall, rather fierce-looking lackey, dressed in a neat livery and mounted on a stout pony, presented himself at the outer door, cracking his whip vigorously, and announcing himself as the guide, sent according to promise by the considerate major-domo, to conduct them to the Chateau de Pommereuil.
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