nce.'

'You think so, colonel?' asked the bishop, half slyly.

'_Parbleu!_ to be sure I do--and you?'

'I'm just as sanguine,' said the bishop, 'and fancy that, about a month
hence, we shall be talking of all these things as matters of history;
and while sorrowing over some of the unavoidable calamities of the
event, preserving a grateful memory of some who came as enemies but left
us warm friends.'

'If such is to be the turn of fortune,' said Charost, with more
seriousness than before, 'I can only say that the kindly feelings will
not be one-sided.'

And now the conversation became an animated discussion on the chances of
success or failure. Each party supported his opinion ably and eagerly,
and with a degree of freedom that was not a little singular to the
bystanders. At last, when Charost was fairly answered by the bishop on
every point, he asked--

'But what say you to the Army of the North?'

'Simply, that I do not believe in such a force,' rejoined the bishop.

'Not believe it--not believe on what General Humbert relies at this
moment, and to which that officer yonder is an accredited messenger!
When I tell you that a most distinguished Irishman, Napper Tandy----'

'Napper Tandy!' repeated the bishop, with a good-humoured smile; 'the
name is quite enough to relieve one of any fears, if they ever felt
them. I am not sufficiently acquainted with your language to give him
the epithet he deserves, but if you can conceive an empty, conceited
man, as ignorant of war as of politics, rushing into a revolution for
the sake of a green uniform, and ready to convulse a kingdom that he may
be called a major-general, only enthusiastic in his personal vanity,
and wanting even in that heroic daring which occasionally dignifies weak
capacities--such is Napper Tandy.'

'What in soldier-phrase we call a "Blague,"' said Charost, laughing;
'I'm sorry for it.'

What turn the conversation was about to take I cannot guess, when it was
suddenly interrupted by one of the bishop's servants rushing into the
room, with a face bloodless from terror. He made his way up to where the
bishop sat, and whispered a few words in his ear.

'And how is the wind blowing, Andrew?' asked the bishop, in a voice that
all his self-command could not completely steady.

'From the north, or the north-west, and mighty strong, too, my lord,'
said the man, who trembled in every limb.

The affrighted aspect of the messenger, the excited expression