De Vergy went on to say that he was persuaded from this ambiguous language and the few words de Guerchy had said to him, that he was required to take part in some machinations, but to what end he could not conceive. He explained his dilemma to d’Argental, who put him at his ease by assuring him that he had nothing to fear, and as he was literally starving, he overcame his scruples and consented to leave for England where he preceded de Guerchy by several weeks. He was to assist in encompassing the ruin of D’Eon, and through him of the Count de Broglio; he was to spread reports injurious to the Chevalier’s reputation; if possible, to pick a quarrel with him, and write a pamphlet to his prejudice. It was thus that advantage was to be taken of his necessitous situation. It was his conscience, not his courage, that made him wince whilst doing the will of the ambassador, and when he had said to the Chevalier the evening they met at the Embassy, _You do not know the fate that awaits you in France_, it was his conscience that spoke and would warn him, and had the Chevalier replied in an encouraging and conciliatory manner, de Vergy would have confessed all to him. But he was depending upon the Count de Guerchy for his very existence. ‘At five-and-twenty,’ he said, ‘the stomach is an integral part of the conscience. It has a deliberative voice in its internal decisions, and when to its sharp cry is added the hoarse and hollow sound from the bowels, their voices united generally have the preponderance.’ [Sidenote: DE VERGY’S CONFESSION.] ‘I could not help laughing,’ notes D’Eon, ‘at this theory in explanation of the verdict of our conscience, and de Vergy laughed quite as heartily.’