s a habit of his
never to use the same pen twice. Nothing could be more disagreeable to
him than a spot of ink on his fingers.

"That's good," said he. "Seal it and put on the address: 'To Lord
Grenville.'"

Bourrienne did as he was told. At the same moment the noise of a
carriage was heard entering the courtyard of the Luxembourg. A moment
later the door opened and Roland appeared.

"Well?" asked Bonaparte.

"Didn't I tell you you could have anything you wanted, general?"

"Have you brought your Englishman?"

"I met him in the Place de Buci; and, knowing that you don't like to
wait, I caught him just as he was, and made him get into the carriage.
Faith! I thought I should have to drive round to the Rue Mazarine, and
get a guard to bring him. He's in boots and a frock-coat."

"Let him come in," said Bonaparte.

"Come in, Sir John," cried Roland, turning round.

Lord Tanlay appeared on the threshold. Bonaparte had only to glance at
him to recognize a perfect gentleman. A trifling emaciation, a slight
pallor, gave Sir John the characteristics of great distinction. He
bowed, awaiting the formal introduction, like the true Englishman he
was.

"General," said Roland, "I have the honor to present to you Sir John
Tanlay, who proposed to go to the third cataract for the purpose of
seeing you, but who has, to-day, obliged me to drag him by the ear to
the Luxembourg."

"Come in, my lord; come in," said Bonaparte. "This is not the first time
we have seen each other, nor the first that I have expressed the wish to
know you; there was therefore positive ingratitude in trying to evade my
desire."

"If I hesitated," said Sir John, in excellent French, as usual, "it was
because I could scarcely believe in the honor you do me."

"And besides, very naturally, from national feeling, you detest me,
don't you, like the rest of your countrymen?"

"I must confess, general," answered Sir John, smiling, "that they have
not got beyond admiration."

"And do you share the absurd prejudice that claims that national honor
requires you to hate to-day the enemy who may be a friend to-morrow?"

"France has been almost a second mother country to me, and my friend
Roland will tell you that I long for the moment when, of my two
countries, the one to which I shall owe the most will be France."

"Then you ought to see France and England shaking hands for the good of
the world, without repugnance."

"The day when I see that will be a