His situation could not be more embarrassing, all things conspired to overwhelm him. “Is there not something incredible,” said he, one evening when seated on the Battery at New York, and in his excitement unconsciously speaking aloud, “is there not something incredible in my being the sport of such a destiny: that I should have been gallanting Mademoiselle Guimard, when the coquette dropped her handkerchief, and cost me a hundred thousand pounds, without mentioning my scrape with the government at Paris, and my debts that I cannot pay? Oh Fate! who can avert thy blows!” At this moment some one tapped him on the shoulder. CHAPTER III. “Friend,” said the new comer, “you appear overwhelmed with trouble. What can I do for you?” “I will tell you, sir, what you can do,” said the major, haughtily drawing himself up; “you can take off your hat when you address me.” “You are right,” replied the unknown, with a calm smile, removing his hat, “an honest man respects misfortune.” “It is not my misfortunes, sir, but myself I insist on your respecting, when you do me the honor to speak to me.” “You are French, sir.” “A Frenchman and a nobleman.” “You are mistaken.” “What do you say, sir.” “I say you cannot be a French nobleman, since there are no more noblemen in France.” “I know not if there be any in France, but there is one here who will make you food for fishes.” “You will not do it.” “Do you mean that for a challenge?” “Merely as advice. You are the cidevant Baron Anspach, of Phalsbourg, and you descend by the female line from the last Dukes of Lorraine. I know that, and I know also that your farm near Phalsbourg has been confiscated, because you emigrated; that you have no funds in France, and that you are there condemned to death.” “I am obliged to you for the information, but I see nothing in it to prevent my pitching you into the water.” “You may be right, sir; but even should you drown me, I do not perceive how it will improve your affairs. You will only have one friend less, and very certainly one misfortune more.” “It appears, sir, that you have pretensions to wit.” “I do not know which of us two has the most, sir; I, who would enlighten you on your situation, or you who would throw me into the river for offering you my assistance.” “I am your debtor, sir, but a gentleman descended from the last Dukes of Lorraine cannot accept the offers of a stranger.” “And from whom can you expect them here, if not from a stranger.” “Permit me to inform you, sir, that no gentleman is reduced to humiliation who retains his sword.” “Why, how would you use it?” “To chastise the scoundrel who would insult me with his importunate pity, and then, rather than expose myself to repeated injury, thrust it through my own body.”