“Ha! _parbleu!_” cried he, with energy; “I thought not. See here, Burke; it is Duroc who writes:--” My dear Duchesne,--I knew there was no use in making such a proposition, and told you as much. The moment I said the word 'England,' he shouted out 'No!' in such a tone you might have heard it at the Luxembourg. You will perceive, then, the thing is impracticable; and perhaps, after all, for your own sake, it is better it should be so. Yours ever, D. “This is all mystery to me, Duchesne; I cannot fathom it in the least.” “Let me assist you; a few words will do it. I gave in my _démission_ as Captain of the Guard, which, as you see, his Majesty has accepted; we shall leave it to the 'Moniteur' of to-morrow to announce whether graciously or not. I also addressed a formal letter to Duroc, to ask the Emperor's permission to visit England, on private business of my own.” His eyes sparkled with a malignant lustre as he said these last words, and his cheek grew deep scarlet. “This, however, his Majesty has not granted, doubtless from private reasons of his own; and thus we stand. Which of us, think you, has most spoiled the other's rest for this night?” “But still I do not comprehend. What can take you to England? You have no friends there; you've never been in that country.” “Do you know the very word is proscribed,--that the island is covered from his eyes in the map he looks upon, that _perfide_ Albion is the demon that haunts his dark hours, and menaces with threatening gesture the downfall of all his present glory? Ah, by Saint Denis, boy! had I been you, it is not such an epaulette as this I had worn.” “Enough, Duchesne; I will not hear more. Not to you, nor any one, am I answerable for the reasons that have guided my conduct; nor had I listened to so much, save that such excitement as yours may make that pardonable which in calmer moments is not so.” “You say right, Burke,” said he, quickly, and with more seriousness of manner; “it is seldom I have been betrayed into such a passionate warmth as this. I hope I have not offended you. This change of circumstance will make none in our friendship. I knew it, my dear boy. And now let us turn from such tiresome topics. Where, think you, have I been spending the evening? But how could you ever guess? Well, at the Odéon, attending Mademoiselle Pierrot, and a very pretty friend of hers,--one of our vivandières, who happens to be in the brigade with mademoiselle's brother, and dined there to-day. She only arrived in Paris this morning; and, by Jove! there are some handsome faces in our gay _salons_ would scarcely stand the rivalry with hers. I must show you the fair Minette.” “Minette!” stammered I, while a sickly sensation--a fear of some unknown misfortune to the poor girl--almost stopped my utterance. “I know her; she belongs to the Fourth Cuirassiers.”