"Oh, that is easily remedied," said the adventurer; "I have no sous to spare, but I have ten fingers, baiting one which was hacked off at the battle of St. Denis, which will do as well for me as any barber in Christendom; and then, again, though water is not plenty in this hot weather, yet it is to be had. As to my jerkin, too, a couple of ounces of chalk, and the worth of a denier of yellow ochre, will put that all to rights; so that, if you like to have me, I will turn out to-morrow morning as smart a trooper as you'd wish to see. I cannot get rid of my face though, so you must make the best of that." "What religion are you of?" I asked, wishing to ascertain that point first before I divulged my own. "I don't know," he replied. "What is yours?" There was a sort of quaint oddity about the fellow which amused me, and, I confess, made me think better of him, though I know not why, and I demanded, without answering his question, "Who have you served under?" "Two or three dozen," he answered; "but I have got my character written down for the benefit of those whom it may concern by a great many of my different friends, and I have not altered a word of their certificates, for it is useless for a man to try to change his nature, and it will come out sooner or later. Who will you have?" he continued; "here is Martigues on the one side, and Andelot on the other. Here is Puygaillard, and Lossac, and Stuart, and--" "Stay, stay," I said; "That will do. Let me see Martigues on the one side, and Stuart on the other." "You are a cute bird, after all," he said; "You wont be limed, I see, to show yourself a Protestant or a Catholic. However, here are the papers." And, lifting up the flap of his jerkin, he drew from an inner pocket a number of dirty pieces of paper, of which he placed in my hands two, saying, "There they are." The first I opened was in a strange hand, and it went on as follows: "This is to signify that Moric Endem is the greatest liar in Europe; but none the worse for that. He fights like a tiger, and will now and then obey his orders." This was signed "Martigues;" and the other, which I instantly recognised as the same handwriting wherein Stuart had given me a letter to the Prince de Condé, was much in the same strain. "I hereby aver," it said, "That Moric Endem is better than he looks. He will stand by a friend or leader till the last, and has done so many brave things, that he is a fool for bragging of things that he never did."