'My reputation, Count, is so well established both at Versailles and in the camp of Duke Charles IV., that I need not suffer myself to be needlessly hacked to pieces, rather than be taken; and so, monsieur, I am your prisoner.' 'Your name, abbé, if an abbé you are, indeed?' 'I am Arthur Blane, a gentleman of king Louis's Scottish Guard, and no abbé.' 'A cuirassier.' 'Yes, monsieur.' ''Tis he, Count, of whom poor Raoul d'Ische and the Prince de Vaudemont have spoken so often,' said General Goltz; 'parbleu! he is a brave fellow!' 'But must, nevertheless, swing, M. le General; he is a spy.' 'Count, it is false,' I exclaimed. 'Then what seek you here, so far from your head-quarters, and in this garb too?' 'A lady, M. le Comte, a lady who--' 'How--have you not ladies enough in the French camp?' 'She whom I seek is a lady of Lorraine, whom I had pledged my word of honour to conduct in safety from Paris to the gate of Nanci--being now en route to join the army of Hepburn and Lavalette.' 'And who is this demoiselle, and what are her name and rank, that she required a chevalier of the King's Scottish Guard to escort her from Paris through Champagne and Lorraine?' Policy and emotions of a somewhat mingled nature made me pause: to mention the name and position of Nicola, as a soubrette of the King's mistress, would only have courted ridicule and mischief. 'Who is she, monsieur?' demanded the Count. 'I think at such a time as this, when rumour affirms that Mademoiselle de Lorraine has been taken at a sequestered château near Paris, and is now languishing in the Bastille, some wonderful interest must be attached to the woman you are in quest of?' 'M. le Comte, she is--' 'What--speak!' 'My sister.' 'A likely story! we never heard that any of our ladies at Nanci had brothers in the Garde du Corps Ecossais; but we shall inquire into all this, at least before we hang you; so give up your sword.' 'To whom?' said I. 'To me--it shall suffer no dishonour in my hands.' ''Tis well, Count; for that sword is the last inheritance of a race that never knew dishonour--until now.' 'Soldiers should never condescend to play the mouchard.' 'Silence, Count, and be generous if you can!' said I, choking with passion. 'If such were said of me after death, I would come back to resent it, though all hell should bar the way.' Awed by my words, the superstitious German changed colour and turned from me. 'A file of musketeers,' said General Goltz; 'Sergeant Caspar Alsfeldt, guard the prisoner to Nanci, and shoot him if he attempts to escape.' 'I will inquire into all this to-morrow at the Duke's palace, where you will bring him before me,' said Pappenheim; 'farewell, M. le Prisonnier--may we part better friends to-morrow than we do to-night. Forward, gentlemen, for the hours grow apace.'