Fleur's Filosophers...
1st Member: Paris is deadly quiet at the moment...
2nd Member: Of course it is, dear boy! All the heroic, manly types are at
the front fighting for King and Country. The only gentlemen left in Paris
are cowardly, limp-wristed mignons like ourselves!
1st Member: Hush Darling! The Minister of State is one of the gentlemen you
refer to and his spies are everywhere!
2nd Member: What of it? The Minister's minions will be as well aware of his
cowardice as I am! Having sent three armies to the front so as to ensure
that his arms investments line his pockets as thickly as possible, he stays
at home to count his money while better men are dying at the front to earn
it for him! By way of contrast one need only look at Axel! If anyone
deserves to put his feet up it's Axel. But do you find him skulking around
Paris when there is fighting to be done?
1st Member: I don't think you're being fair to Duc Senior. Axel still has a
regiment to lead, whereas Duc Senior became Guards Brigadier so as to allow
those beneath him access to promotion at last.
2nd Member: What of that? Doesn't signify in the slightest!! Duc Zer was in
exactly the same boat when he was Minister of State, but _he_ didn't spend
Summer Campaigns attending his wife's embroidery classes for the want of
anything better to do! Every Summer would find him fighting with the Royal
North Highland Borderers like the hero he was! No, you mark my words, Duc
Senior is a fully paid up member of the limp-wristed, lily-livered
fraternity and always has been!
1st Member: So what of de Mylcandonai over there? He was fighting with the
Highlanders in May, but apparently some bureaucratic mix up prevented him
from taking command of a Division for the campaign. He and the Princess
have
been here all month waiting for His Majesty's authority to sort it out.
2nd Member: All right, I'll admit that there is one macho poseur still in
Paris, but I'm on much safer ground with van Schnell over here. Our
sausage-eating Vicomte hasn't taken to the field of battle since 1670! Word
is that during his last engagement his horse broke wind so thunderously
that
he has been a veritable bag of nerves ever since!
1st Member: I still can't help but feel that you do those less highly
regarded gentlemen (whose lack of the wherewithal to purchase commissions
is the only thing keeping them in Paris) a grave disservice. They can't
_all_ be limp-wristed cowards, surely?
2nd Member: Are we talking about _peasants_ now?!! My dear boy, who cares a
fig about what _they_ do? ...Ahhh, comme je suis de Birmingham!
1st Member: But we're in Paris, surely?
2nd Member: Sorry, dear boy. It's a new expression going around Court
meaning 'how bored I am' (from which one may assume that Birmingham is not
the most exciting of cities even when compared to those other dreary piles
of bricks in England). I say, when we've finished this bottle, why don't we
seek some excitement by taunting the market traders at the Foire de St
Germain...?
