“Chance has favored me for once, Monsieur l'Abbé,” said I, “since I have the good fortune to see one to whom I have a letter of introduction. I called this very morning at your lodgings to deliver this.” “Oh, the rare good luck indeed,” cried he, breaking open the seal and rapidly perusing the contents. “That dear Ursule,” said he, with something very near to a smile, “always so good and so confiding, trusts even after hope has departed. But tell me rather of themselves; for this is the theme she has not spoken of.” I rapidly related all that I knew of the family. I saw, however, that his mind was wandering from the subject ere I had finished. “And you,” said he, suddenly, “when do you set out on your mission?” “I have not decided on accepting it.” “Not decided! Can you hesitate, can you waver for a moment? Has not the Count himself charged you with his commands?” “And who may the Count be?” asked I. “His Majesty the rightful king of France. You cannot be well versed in physiognomy, or you must have recognized the royal features of his race. He is every inch a Bourbon.” “He who sat at the table?” “The same. The General Guerronville is reckoned handsome; but he is vulgar and commonplace when seen beside his Majesty.” The Abbé, to whom, doubtless, the letter imparted sufficient to give him full confidence in me, spoke frankly and openly of the Royalist party, their hopes and fears and future prospects. He even went so far as to say that they were losing confidence in the English Government, of whose designs for a peace they entertained deep suspicion. Turning hastily from this, he urged me earnestly not to decline the duty proposed to me, and said at last,-- “That if no other argument could weigh with me, personal advantage might, and that success in my enterprise was my fortune made forever.” While he was thus speaking, I was only dwelling upon what I could recall of my late scene with the King of France, and wondering what he possibly could mean by a relationship between us. The Abbé explained the difficulty away by a careless reply as to the various small channels into which the royal blood had been diverted, by obscure marriages and the like. “At all events,” said he, “if his Majesty could remember the tie, it would come badly from you to forget it. Accept this offer, therefore, and be assured that you will serve yourself even more than his cause.” It was not very difficult to persuade me; and even where his arguments failed, my own necessities urged me to accept the offer. I therefore agreed, and, charging the Abbé to convey my sentiments of gratitude for the trust reposed in me, I stated my readiness to set out at once wherever it was deemed necessary to employ me; and with this I lay down to rest, more at ease in heart than I had felt for months long. CHAPTER XXXIV. SECRET SERVICE