D’Eon, whose part in this affair was so active and successful, had, according to La Messelière, unwittingly saved his own head. At all events, he had a claim upon Woronzow’s gratitude, and fresh titles to Elizabeth’s confidence; consequently the idea was mooted of attaching d’Eon to the service of Russia, and a formal request to that effect was made by the Marquis de L’Hospital to the Abbé de Bernis. The Minister for Foreign Affairs and M. Tercier, being at one in this matter, were not at all opposed to the scheme, suggested, no doubt, by the Czarina herself, whereby an agent esteemed at the same time by the ministry and the secret service should be established at her court. D’Eon, although flattered by this proposal, which he never omitted to mention in the rough drafts of his memoirs, did not think fit to accept it. The favour which he enjoyed at Versailles, a career brilliantly opened in diplomacy, the scope given to his aspirations in the army—all gave promise of a sufficiently enviable future for him in his own country. He knew, too, that foreigners seldom attained to high places in Russia. Fortune was particularly fickle there, and her wheel was more often than not broken on the road to Siberia. Lastly, his health was beginning to suffer from the effects of the severe climate; and he did not hesitate to refuse. “Had I a bastard brother,” he wrote to Tercier, “be assured I should prevail upon him to accept such an offer, but for myself, who am legitimate, I should be glad to die like a faithful dog in a ditch in my native land.” In thanking the Abbé de Bernis, “he begged him to dismiss him from his memory whenever there was a question of his destiny removing him entirely from France.” The Minister for Foreign Affairs did not insist, and even congratulated him upon his attachment to his country. At that time, moreover, d’Eon had other projects in view. He was tired of Russia, where he feared his energies would be wasted for many years to come, while he aspired to other spheres of action. He had followed from his distant post the disastrous campaign of 1757, which ended in the crushing defeat of the French army at Rosbach. Couriers arriving at the embassy in March brought no better news. Hanover had just been evacuated, and the Comte de Clermont’s troops, compelled to quit Westphalia, had to cross the Rhine again. Everywhere hostilities were being resumed with fresh vigour. D’Eon, who had been for some time impatiently waiting an opportunity for making his first campaign, was longing to join his regiment before the end of the war: “To do so after peace had been declared would,” he said, “be too great a blow to his honour and his self-esteem.”