ressed as if for the
road, and looking paler and more agitated than usual.

'O'Leary,' said he, in a tremulous voice, 'I am come to place in your
hands the highest trust a man can repose in another. Am I certain of
your friendship?' I shook his hand in silence, and he went on. 'I must
leave Brussels to-night, secretly. A political affair, in which
the peace of Europe is involved, has just come to my knowledge; the
Government here will do their best to detain me; orders are already
given to delay me at the frontier, perhaps send me back to the capital;
in consequence, I must cross the boundary on horseback, and reach
Aix-la-Chapelle by to-morrow evening. Of course, the countess cannot
accompany me.' He paused for a second. 'You must be her protector. A
hundred rumours will be afloat the moment they find I have escaped, and
as many reasons for my departure announced in the papers. However, I'm
content if they amuse the public and occupy the police; and meanwhile I
shall obtain time to pass through Prussia unmolested. Before I reach St.
Petersburg, the countess will receive letters from me, and know where
to proceed to; and I count on your friendship to remain here until that
time--a fortnight, three weeks at farthest. If money is any object to
you----'

'Not in the least; I have far more than I want.' 'Well, then, may I
conclude that you consent?' 'Of course you may,' said I, overpowered by
a rush of sensations I must leave to my reader to feel, if it has ever
been his lot to be placed in such circumstances, or to imagine if he has
not.

'The countess,' I said, 'is of course aware----'

'Of everything,' interrupted he, 'and bears it all admirably. Much,
however, is attributable to the arrangement with you, which I promised
her was completed even before I asked your consent--such was my
confidence in your friendship.'

'You have not deceived yourself,' was my reply, while I puzzled my brain
to think how I could repay such proofs of his trust. 'Is there, then,
anything more,' said I--'can you think of nothing else in which I may be
of service?'

'Nothing, dear friend, nothing,' said he. 'Probably we shall meet at St.
Petersburg.'

'Yes, yes,' said I; 'that is my firm intention.'

'That's all I could wish for,' rejoined he. 'The grand-duke will be
delighted to acknowledge the assistance your friendship has rendered us,
and Potoski's house will be your own.' So saying, he embraced me most
affectionately, and depart