“Parry, I conjure you to tell me nothing; for if your news had been good, you would not have begun in such a manner; you go about, which proves that the news is bad.” “My lord,” said the old man, “do not hasten to alarm yourself, all is not lost, I hope. You must employ energy, but more particularly resignation.” “Parry,” said the young man, “I have reached this place through a thousand snares and after a thousand difficulties; can you doubt my energy? I have meditated this journey ten years, in spite of all counsels and all obstacles—have you faith in my perseverance? I have this evening sold the last of my father’s diamonds; for I had nothing wherewith to pay for my lodging and my host was about to turn me out.” Parry made a gesture of indignation, to which the young man replied by a pressure of the hand and a smile. “I have still two hundred and seventy-four pistoles left, and I feel myself rich. I do not despair, Parry; have you faith in my resignation?” The old man raised his trembling hands towards heaven. “Let me know,” said the stranger,—“disguise nothing from me—what has happened?” “My recital will be short, my lord, but in the name of Heaven do not tremble so.” “It is impatience, Parry. Come, what did the general say to you?” “At first the general would not receive me.” “He took you for a spy?” “Yes, my lord, but I wrote him a letter.” “Well?” “He read it, and received me, my lord.” “Did that letter thoroughly explain my position and my views?” “Oh, yes!” said Parry, with a sad smile; “it painted your very thoughts faithfully.” “Well—then, Parry?” “Then the general sent me back the letter by an aide-de-camp, informing me that if I were found the next day within the circumscription of his command, he would have me arrested.” “Arrested!” murmured the young man. “What! arrest you, my most faithful servant?” “Yes, my lord.” “And notwithstanding you had signed the name Parry?” “To all my letters, my lord; and the aide-de-camp had known me at St. James’s and at Whitehall, too,” added the old man with a sigh. The young man leaned forward, thoughtful and sad. “Ay, that’s what he did before his people,” said he, endeavoring to cheat himself with hopes. “But, privately—between you and him—what did he do? Answer!” “Alas! my lord, he sent to me four cavaliers, who gave me the horse with which you just now saw me come back. These cavaliers conducted me, in great haste, to the little port of Tenby, threw me, rather than embarked me, into a fishing-boat, about to sail for Brittany, and here I am.” “Oh!” sighed the young man, clasping his neck convulsively with his hand, and with a sob. “Parry, is that all?—is that all?” “Yes, my lord; that is all.” After this brief reply ensued a long interval of silence, broken only by the convulsive beating of the heel of the young man on the floor. The old man endeavored to change the conversation; it was leading to thoughts much too sinister.