Hôtel de Lassay, Paris
Louis de Rohan watched proceeding events with great interest, although it seemed somewhat of a haze due to sleep deprivation and the alcohol he had consumed once reaching the hotel. It had been a coincidence that he had wandered into where the liberal deputies were trying to organize a counter government, and he felt out of place watching them work. He was a minister of the government they had criticized and now were pushing from power. Despite that, he did not speak to them, and they ignored him in turn. That gave him time to listen to all the news pouring in from outside while getting royally drunk. His cousin had a fine selection of wine and he had decided to help himself to a bottle or two.
In the course of a few hours, Louis managed to watch both the rise and fall of this new ministry, and these liberal deputies surely did not appreciate his boisterous laughter after Gagnon announced the disbanding of his government and had departed. Most of the deputies had left soon after, but some continued to mill around. As word reached Lassay of the intent of the Regent to take the King into exile, Louis could only laugh some more. Perhaps it was the wine or the sheer hopelessness of the situation, but it seemed so overly amusing to him. France was doomed and it was all thanks to his fellow politicians.
Eventually he wandered over to the deputies in his drunken stupor. He placed his bottle of wine down on a nearby table, rough enough to rattle it without breaking. The deputies turned towards the disruption, and Louis, who had been holding back so much pent of frustration over the years, just let them have it.
"I hope you are all happy with yourselves. So caught up in your petty little games to seize power that you never consider how badly things could turn out. Because of you and your ilk, Paris will burn and good Frenchmen will die. What ever happened to the days when men could cooperate and seek compromise instead of vehemently opposing each other with every fibre of their being? Did you truly think you could stir up the public, sabotage your own government, and just step into power? You are fools, all of you. You'll be lucky if you escape Paris alive. If I find out any of you are strung up by the neck by an angry mob, I won't shed a single tear. You deserve whatever fate that is coming your way. You, Gagnon, Malvasia, Lecuyer, and all the rest. France is better off without you."
One of the deputies went to speak, but Louis slammed his fist down on the table, nearly knocking over his bottle of wine. "But the folly is not yours alone. I served as a minister in a corrupt government, one filled with men more concerned with their own ego and pride than France. They would rather let the monarchy die than give up a shred of power. Now France will pay because they were too self-absorbed to see the obvious. I wish I could see them all now so I could tell them face to face the numerous follies they committed. But alas, I wouldn't be surprised if they are dead, torn apart by the masses. A sad fate, but not one unearned."
Louis grabbed his bottle of wine and took several long chugs before setting it back down on the table. "And don't get me started on those filthy republicans. Demand after demand after demand. They claim to represent the people, but they don't even understand them. They, like everyone else, use them for their own needs, to take power wherever they can find it. They don't give a damn, otherwise they would not be condemning countless thousands to a bloody death in their foolish revolutions. At times I feel I am the only one who remembers the Revolution and the bloodshed it caused. The only thing this fight for a republic will do is lead to pain and suffering for all Frenchmen. People will die and nobody seems to care."
Louis grabbed the bottle again, but found it empty. He snatched another from a passing servant and took a long chug before resuming his tirade. "Well they can all go to hell, and France with it. After watching the struggles France has been forced through over the decades, I have finally come to understand the truth. The French people are a self-destructive lot completely content to ruin everything they have created all while bringing down their own country in the process. They will do terrible things in the name of France, but in the end all they do is hurt her. No one actually cares. And you know what, I don't either. France doesn't deserve my love. All it and its people have ever done is hurt me. If the sea swallowed up the entire country and every Frenchman with it, I would thank God that such a blight on this world was removed once and for all. The real France died in 1789 and we've been living in a bloated corpse ever since. The stench is now unbearable and I think it's about time to leave. Good riddance, to both you and this wretched country."
Turning on his heels, albeit awfully unsteadily, Louis strode towards the door, the bottle of wine still in his hand. As he passed a servant, he said, "Give my cousin my thanks for letting me stay in her home, but I have a sudden urge to depart this horrid city." With that, Louis stumbled out into the streets. He wandered towards the city's edge, occasionally drinking from his bottle. With his threadbare coat and bottle of wine, he looked like some poor drunk who had just been through a bender. He was also still aware enough to avoid the worst of the rioting. Perhaps that, combined with his appearance, would be enough for him to go unnoticed so he could leave Paris.
