"And pray, sir," at length inquired the elder, "what news may be now stirring in France? You have, I presume, but recently arrived from thence?" "I have been in France, but not lately." "In the Netherlands, then? for I take it you are given to the carnal follies of the times, and have been cherished in the heresies, religious and political, propagated by a person or persons assuming a particular rank, which the Almighty saw fitting to wrest from them now many days past." "I have not, as I think, been brought up in any heresy," replied the youth, gently but firmly, "and I should be sorry so brave a gentleman and so expert a swordsman thought so: though I do not feel myself bound to give you any information touching my private opinions, which I hold to be as distinctly my own property as my hat or sword----" "And which," said the stranger, "is, perhaps, the only property you are possessed of." "Exactly so, sir; but persons of a lower estate than mine have lately risen to high places,--ay, and carry themselves as loftily as if they were born to lord it over not only empire, but empires." "Ah! true: then, I suppose, you would fain seek service; and if so, I think my poor word would be of use. I am somewhat esteemed by the Protector and other props of this great Commonwealth, and would gladly tender my aid to you, to whom I am already strongly bound." "I thank you for your bounty, sir; but at present I feel inclined to sheathe, not draw my sword." "But why? A youth like you, gifted with courage, skill, and health,--the state demands some activity at your hands; 'tis ill to be a laggard." "Nor am I one. Frankly, I like not innovation, and this state has been experimentalising lately:--in a word, I like it not." "That is a candid confession, more candid than your former words would have led me to expect. But, young gentleman, it is not safe to trust such sentiments into a stranger's keeping: the Lord Protector has, it is said, his spies in every house; nay, it is reported the highways grow them as rife as blackberries." "And you may be one, for aught I know or care," said the youth bluntly. "But what of that?--they say Old Noll likes in others what he hath not yet practised himself--a thing called honesty; and at worst, he could but take my life, which, after all, is little worth in comparison to those he has already taken." A long silence followed this intemperate speech, which at last was broken by the mounted traveller.