"I was then hardly nineteen, but I spurned the tedious tutelage of schools and colleges, and threw myself at once into the university of nature; the wide and populous world. I went to the continent.--But not to visit the _garden of the Hourii_! At Geneva, I became the friend of philosophers; at Paris, the companion of wits; in Italy, the counsellor of princes.--Do you mark me?" "I do, with wonder and admiration." "What I then dared to advise, I am now come to execute." He paused a moment, then resumed, "De Montemar, there are objects at Avignon, of more interest than Vaucluse!"--again he paused, and looked at Louis, expecting a reply. "I do not understand you, my Lord." "Expound my riddle, and you shall have a better fate than Oedipus." "I should deserve a worse, were I to waste the time in guesses; when I may profit by its exposition from yourself." The Duke did not like this dullness, but he proceeded.--"De Montemar, what is your opinion of the Marquis of Montrose? He who Cromwell sent to the scaffold for attachment to the house of Stuart." "I consider his gallant patriotism," replied Louis, "as hardly second to that of his immortal country-man William Wallace; and could almost envy him his feelings, when the executioner bound to his neck the catalogue of his battles against the regicides. What a consciousness of true greatness must have been in the smile with which he welcomed this intended badge of disgrace, as a brighter testimony to his honour, than the star of Saint George which they tore from his breast!" "Well answered, my promising catechumen!" cried the Duke, "now for another question, and I have done.--In what respect do you hold honest George Monk, who deserted the blockhead chief of the Roundheads, and recalled the son of his murdered sovereign to the throne of his ancestors?" "Monk does not fire my heart, like Montrose," replied Louis, "I love the direct path; and _honest_ George was most inclined to crooked ones.--However, he walked straight at last, and for that I honour him." "Then you love the Stuarts?" "Their line is of mingled yarn!--I revere, love, blame, pity them." "De Montemar, you must know the Chevalier de Saint George!" "How?--where?" "At Avignon.--Now, do you read me?" Louis met the powerful glance of Wharton's eye, and it shot into his soul. At the same instant the words of his guardian seemed to ring in his ear:--_The wily Duke will teach you to be a traitor!_--Hot and cold damps burst from every pore of his body. "You do not answer me, de Montemar?--I see you are discomposed,--you are agitated;--and it is a cause to stir up every vital spring in the breast of free-born man! My blood is ready to follow the course of Derwentwater and Kenmuir; or to purchase, in some happy field of victory, the re-establishment of my lawful king!"