"_Ah, mon garçon_! I cheated you nicely at that old _chaumière_ in the wood, and all for the best, was it not? But pray don't give way to such outbursts here; _ma foi!_ no, they will never do; so be wary and be off, ere worse come to pass. Bourgneuf has some fellows in his Regiment de Bretagne who would skin their own fathers--people from his own estates who would chop you into mincemeat if such were his supreme will and pleasure, and if quietly shooting you down did not suit his purpose quite as well." I took another glass of wine and snapped my fingers, as a spirit of bravado next possessed me. "Tell me, is the countess here?" I asked. "Madame de Bourgneuf, _née_ Broglie? well, she is not exactly at Ysembourg, but we shall not say where. Awkward, is it not?" said the chevalier, playing with the gold tassel of his hussar pelisse. "Awkward!--what--how!" stammered I. "_Diable!_ without condescending to be more plain, my friend, I think that under all the circumstances, it _is_ exceedingly awkward that the countess, and you, a former lover, are, with the knowledge of such a man as Bourgneuf, within a few miles of each other. How do you feel about it?" "Simply, my dear chevalier," said I, as the wax lights began to multiply strangely, and the room seemed to swim round me, "that my naturally fine appetite is in no way impaired by the circumstance, and I have dined as well as ever I did on that deuced tough ration beef of the Hessians; and as for Monsieur de Bourgneuf----" "He is at your service, monsieur!" said a harsh voice in my car, while a hand was laid, almost with a clutch, on my right shoulder. I turned and encountered that which sobered me in a moment; the stern and sallow face, and dark, glittering, almond-shaped, and rather wicked eyes of the Count de Bourgneuf, who had entered unseen, and had overheard, _how much or how little_ of the past conversation, we knew not. He delivered to me a paper, saying, "Monsieur, this is your signed pass to the nearest British cantonment; and you can depart when you please, and by any route; so delay is unadvisable," he added, with a keen glance. "I thank you, Monsieur le Comte," said I. "By the way of Hesse Cassel, I have advised," said Monjoy hastily. "The Lahn lies in an _opposite_ direction--but Hesse Cassel be it," said the Count, with a deep smile. "Ah, Boisguiller, thou unconscionable tosspot--art bibbing still? Good evening, monsieur," he added to me, as he bowed and withdrew; "a pleasant and a _safe_ journey to you." "Did you remark his smile?" asked Monjoy in a low voice, while twitching my sleeve. "Yes," replied I; "and it reminded me of one who never smiled thus save when planning mischief." I thought of the aide-de-camp, Shirley. "Boisguiller, assist me in getting a horse for our comrade," said Monjoy, looking at his watch: "it is now eight, and we shall depart from this within an hour." CHAPTER X. THE STORY OF MONJOY.