“Very nearly. In fact, when one does anything more, they generally do wrong; and by a steady persistence in this kind of thing for thirty years, you are called 'a safe man, who never compromised his Government,' and are certain to be employed by any party in power.” “I begin to think I might be an envoy myself,” said Harcourt. “No doubt of it; we have two or three of your calibre in Germany this moment,--men liked and respected; and, what is of more consequence, well looked upon at 'the Office.'” “I don't exactly follow you in that last remark.” “I scarcely expected you should; and as little can I make it clear to you. Know, however, that in that venerable pile in Downing Street called the Foreign Office, there is a strange, mysterious sentiment,--partly tradition, partly prejudice, partly toadyism,--which bands together all within its walls, from the whiskered porter at the door to the essenced Minister in his bureau, into one intellectual conglomerate, that judges of every man in 'the Line'--as they call diplomacy--with one accord. By that curious tribunal, which hears no evidence, nor ever utters a sentence, each man's merits are weighed; and to stand well in the Office is better than all the favors of the Court, or the force of great abilities.” “But I cannot comprehend how mere subordinates, the underlings of official life, can possibly influence the fortunes of men so much above them.” “Picture to yourself the position of an humble guest at a great man's table; imagine one to whose pretensions the sentiments of the servants' hall are hostile: he is served to all appearance like the rest of the company; he gets his soup and his fish like those about him, and his wine-glass is duly replenished,--yet what a series of petty mortifications is he the victim of; how constantly is he made to feel that he is not in public favor; how certain, too, if he incur an awkwardness, to find that his distresses are exposed. The servants' hall is the Office, my dear Harcourt, and its persecutions are equally polished.” “Are you a favorite there yourself?” asked the other, slyly. “A prime favorite; they all like _me!_” said he, throwing himself back in his chair, with an air of easy self-satisfaction; and Harcourt stared at him, curious to know whether so astute a man was the dupe of his own self-esteem, or merely amusing himself with the simplicity of another. Ah, my good Colonel, give up the problem; it is an enigma far above your powers to solve. That nature is too complex for _your_ elucidation; in its intricate web no one thread holds the clew, but all is complicated, crossed, and entangled. “Here comes a cabinet messenger again,” said Upton, as a courier's _calèche_ drove up, and a well-dressed and well-looking fellow leaped out. “Ah, Stanhope, how are you?” said Sir Horace, shaking his hand with what from him was warmth. “Do you know Colonel Harcourt? Well, Frank, what news do you bring me?” “The best of news.”