He paused here, and seemed as if he expected me to say something; but as I thought the whole a most strange commencement to the ceremony of investing me with a cross of the Legion, I remained silent. “At Paris, when attached to the _élite_, you appear to have visited the Duchess of Montserrat, and frequented her soirées.” “Once, sir; but once I was in the house of the duchess. My visit could scarcely have occupied as many minutes as I have spent here this morning.” “Dined occasionally at the 'Moisson d'Or,” continued the marshal, not noticing in any way my reply. “Well, as I believe you are now aware that there are no secrets with his Majesty's Government, perhaps you will inform me what are your relations with the Chevalier Duchesne?” For some minutes previous my mind was dwelling on that personage; and I answered the question in a few words, by stating the origin of our acquaintance, and briefly adverting to its course. “You correspond with the chevalier?” said he, interrupting. “I have never done so; nor is it likely, from the manner in which we parted last, that I ever shall.” “This scarcely confirms that impression, sir,” said the marshal, taking an open letter from the table and holding it up before me. “You know his handwriting; is that it?” “Yes; I have no doubt it is.” “Well, sir, that letter belongs to you; you may take and read it. There is enough there, sir, to make your conduct the matter of a court-martial; but I am satisfied that a warning will be sufficient. Let this be such then. Learn, sir, that the plottings of a poor and mischievous party harmonize ill with the duties of a brave soldier; and that a captain of the Guards might choose more suitable associates than the dupes and double-dealers of the Faubourg St. Germain. There is your brevet to the 'Legion,' signed by the Emperor. I shall return it to his Majesty; mayhap at some future period your conduct may merit differently. I need hardly say that a gentleman so very little particular in the choice of his friends would be a most misplaced subject for the honor of the 'Legion.'” He waved his hand in sign for me to withdraw, and overwhelmed with confusion, I bowed and left the room. Nor was it till the door closed behind me that I felt how cruelly and unjustly I had been treated; then suddenly the blood rushed to my face and temples, my head seemed as if it would burst at either side, and forgetting every circumstance of place and condition, I seized the handle of the door and wrenched it open. “Marshal,” said I, with the fearlessness of one resolved at any risk to vindicate his character, “I know nothing of this letter; I have not read one line of it. I have no further intimacy with the writer than an officer has with his comrade; but if I am to be the subject of espionage to the police,--if my chance acquaintances in the world are to be matter of charges against my fealty and honor,--if I, who have nothing but my sword and my epaulette--”