“Be it so, then. My friend here,” resumed he, addressing me, “is of opinion that your information and habits would well fit you for a task which will be at once one of emolument and trust. The English minister has already pointed you out as a suitable agent, and nothing but your own concurrence is now needed.” I begged for a further explanation; and he briefly told me that the Royalist party, not alone throughout France, but in different parts of the Continent, where they had sought refuge, were distracted and broken up for want of due intercourse with each other and with the head of their party; that false intelligence and fictitious stories had been circulated industriously to sow discord and disunion amongst them; and that nothing but an actual, direct, and personal agency could efficiently counteract this peril and restore confidence and stability to the party. Many--some of them men of the highest rank--had taken service in this way; some had condescended to accept of the very humblest stations, and almost menial duties, where they could obtain information of value; and all we're ready to risk life and fortune for the Prince to whom they owed their allegiance. “But you forget, sir, that the loyalty which reflects such honor on them would be wanting in my case: I am not a Frenchman.” “But your mother was French,” said he who sat at the table, “and of the best blood of France too. I have told you we are relations.” A gesture of caution from the General stopped him here, and he was silent. I saw there was embarrassment somewhere; but on what ground I knew not. More to relieve the awkwardness of the moment than from any other intention, I asked what my duties might be in this capacity. “On that head you will receive the fullest instructions,” said the General. “Once say that you are ready and at our disposal, and we shall supply you with every means and every knowledge you can wish for.” “May I have a little time to consider of it, sir?” asked I. “A night, for instance?” “Yes, a night,--certainly; only remember that whether you accept or refuse, this interview is a secret, and not to be divulged to any one.” “I shall so consider it,” said I. “You will, then, be here to-morrow at ten,--at ten, remember, and this time punctually.” And with that he bowed me ceremoniously to the door, the other waving his hand more familiarly, and wishing me a good-bye as I passed out. As I reached the outer gate of the lawn, a servant hastily overtook me. It was a gentleman, he said, who wished to return to London, begged permission to accompany me, if I would so far oblige him. “With pleasure,” said I. “Will you favor me with his name?” “The Abbé Tonsurd.” “The Abbé Tonsurd!--the very man of all others I wished to meet!” And while I was just rejoicing over my good fortune on the occurrence, he came hurrying forward to offer me his thanks.