'Well; as a Lorrainer, the poor girl is no longer safe in Paris; for the same edict by which Cardinal Richelieu is about to enrol fifty-two thousand men for the recapture of La Chapelle, Bohain, and Corbie, which the Spaniards have stormed from those dolts the Picards, orders the immediate arrest of all Lorrainers and Alsatians in Paris. Now poor Mademoiselle Nicola is from Nanci--which is her misfortune, but not her fault.' 'And how about yourself--your own safety?' 'Though Louis is ill--all but bedridden at present--my position is secure. Nicola is but a waiting-maid.' 'But dangerously beautiful.' The expressive eyes of the Countess became severe and disdainful. 'She is faithful and attached to me, poor little creature; yet I can evade the Cardinal's edict no longer. She is a woman, a girl rather, without a legitimate protector, and you are a gallant chevalier. To conduct her to her parents at Nanci must be your task.' 'Mine!' I exclaimed, with growing astonishment. 'Yours. So I trust, not to your love for me (that I have ceased to believe in) but to your honour, that you will convey her in safety to the gates of Nanci, which you will pass en route for Elsace-Zaberne--and that you will there leave her, without question or query. You promise?' she demanded, fixing her bright and piercing eyes keenly upon me. 'On my honour, Countess,' said I, laying a hand on my breast; 'impatient as I am to leave Paris, to rejoin the Scottish Guard, and to deliver to Sir John Hepburn his despatches, and the baton he has earned so well, I shall not think of playing the lover or the loiterer on the road.' 'C'est bon! I trust Nicola entirely to your honour and to her own discretion. Horses are provided--I have sent for your old nag Dagobert, and you will leave this in an hour.' 'So soon!' said I, kissing Clara's hand, and feeling something of my old love for her reviving. 'Yes--so soon. Moreover, if you execute faithfully and honourably the trust I repose in you, namely, to see this poor girl to the gates of Nanci, my favours will not cease with our separation. I have written to my dear old friend, Monseigneur le Duc de Lennox, who is now at his castle of Tarbolton, and Cardinal Richelieu by the King's command--a command issued at my request--has written to the Scottish minister at Edinburgh, Sir Archibald Acheson of Glencairn, also in your favour; and thus if you obey me with fidelity, your estate of Blanerne and all your father's offices of Bailiewick and Captainrie shall be fully restored to you, and you will be free to return home, unless,' she added, with one of her old coy glances, 'you find attractions greater in France.' 'Madame, I have no words to thank you! but will the Cardinal be successful?' 'Can you doubt it? Mon Dieu! it is but a small request to make of this sieur Acheson, and the Scottish government, after the late release of all their ships, when those of England were detained and sold at Havre, Brest, and Calais.'