“If it involve the good faith I once swore to preserve towards the Emperor Napoleon, I refuse it at once. On such a condition, I cannot accept your aid.” “And does your heart still linger where your pride has been so insulted?” “It does, it does; to be his soldier once more, I would submit to everything but dishonor.” “In that case,” said he, smiling good-naturedly, “my conscience is a clear one; and I may forward your escape with the satisfying reflection that I have diminished the enemies of his Majesty Louis the Eighteenth by one most inveterate follower of Napoleon. I shall ask no conditions of you. When are you ready?” “To-day,--now.” “Let me see; to-morrow will be the 8th,--to-morrow will do. I will write about it at once. Meanwhile, it is as well you should not drop any hint of your intended departure, except to Madame de Langeac, whose secrecy may be relied on.” “May I ask,” said I, “if you run any risk in thus befriending me? It is an office, believe me, of little promise.” “None whatever. Rarely a month passes over without some one or other leaving this for England. The intercourse between Rome and Ireland is uninterrupted, and has been so during the hottest period of the war.” “This seems most unaccountable to me; I cannot understand it.” “There is a key to the mystery, however,” said he, smiling. “The English Government have confidence in the peaceful efforts of the priesthood as regards Ireland, and permit them to hold unlimited intercourse with the Holy See, which fears France and the spirit of her Emperor. The Bourbons look to the Church as the last hope of the Restoration. It is in the Catholic religion of this country, and its traditions, that monarchy has its root. Sap one, and you undermine the other. Legitimacy is a holy relic,--like any other, the priests are the guardians of it; and as for the present ruler of France, he trusts in the spirit of the Church to increase its converts, and believes that Ireland is ripening to revolt through the agency of the priests. Fouché alone is not deceived. Between him and the Church the war is to the knife; and but for him the high seas would be more open than the road to Strasburg,--at least, to all with a shaven crown and a silk frock. Here, then, is the simple explanation of what seemed so difficult; and I believe you will find it the true one.” “But two out of the three parties must be deceived,” said I. “Perhaps all three are,” replied he, smiling sarcastically. “There are some, at least, who deem the return of the rightful sovereign is more to be hoped from the sabre than the crosier, and think that Rome never was true except to Rome. As to your journey, however, its only difficulty or danger is the transit through France; once at the coast, and all is safe. Your passport shall be made out as a retired sous-officier returning to his home. You will take Marboeuf in the route, and I will give you the necessary directions for discovering the abbé.”