“We are speaking, Mr. Burke, of an abbé who is about to visit Ireland, and whose fears of the English cruisers seem little reasonable to some of my friends here, though you can explain, perhaps, that they are not groundless. I forgot,--you were but a boy when you crossed that sea.” “But he will go at last,” said Madame de Langeac; “I suppose we may rely on that?” “We hope,” said the general, shrugging his shoulders with an air of doubt, “because, when we can do nothing else, we can always hope.” And so saying he arose from the table, and taking a courteous leave of each person in turn, pleading the fatigue of his journey, he retired for the night. I left the saloon soon after, and went to my room full of all I had heard, and pondering many thoughts about the abbé and his intended voyage. I spent a sleepless night. Thoughts of home, long lost in the excitement of my career, came flocking to my brain, and a desire to revisit my country--stronger, perhaps, because undefined in its object--made me restless and feverish. It was with delight I perceived the day dawning, and dressing myself hastily, I descended into the garden. To my surprise, I found General Burke already there. He was sauntering along slowly by himself, and seemed wrapped in meditation. The noise of my approach startled him, and he looked up. “Ah! my countryman,--so early astir?” said he, saluting me courteously. “Is this a habit of yours?” “No, sir; I cannot claim the merit of such wakefulness. But last night I never closed my eyes. A few words you dropped in conversation in the drawing-room kept possession of my heart, and even yet I cannot expel them.” “I saw it at the time I spoke,” replied the general, with a keen, quick glance; “you changed color twice as I mentioned the Abbé Gernon. Do you know him?” “No, sir; it was his intended journey, not himself, for which I felt interested.” “You would wish to accompany him, perhaps. Well, the matter is not impossible; but as time presses, and we have little leisure for mysteries, tell me frankly why are you here?” In few words, and without a comment on any portion of my conduct, I told him the principal circumstances of my life, down to the decisive moment of my leaving the army. “After that step,” said I, “feeling that no career can open to me here, I wish to regain my own country.” “You are right,” said the general, slowly; “it is your only course now. The venture is not without risk,--less from the English cruisers than the French, for the abbé is well known in England, and Ireland too; but his Royalist character would find slight favor with Fouché. You are willing to run the risk, I suppose?” “I am.” “And to travel as the abbe's servant, at least to Falaise? there the disguise will end.” “Perfectly so.” “And for this service, are you also ready to render us one in return?” said he, peering at me beneath his eyelashes.