kneeling at a side altar, an officer in a green
uniform coat, very deeply engaged in devotion. Something familiar in the
figure and posture of the kneeling man struck Captain Esmond, even before
he saw the officer's face. As he rose up, putting away into his pocket a
little black breviary, such as priests use, Esmond beheld a countenance so
like that of his friend and tutor of early days, Father Holt, that he
broke out into an exclamation of astonishment and advanced a step towards
the gentleman, who was making his way out of church. The German officer
too looked surprised when he saw Esmond, and his face from being pale grew
suddenly red. By this mark of recognition, the Englishman knew that he
could not be mistaken; and though the other did not stop, but on the
contrary rather hastily walked away towards the door, Esmond pursued him
and faced him once more, as the officer helping himself to holy water,
turned mechanically towards the altar to bow to it ere he quitted the
sacred edifice.

"My father!" says Esmond in English.

"Silence! I do not understand. I do not speak English," says the other in
Latin.

Esmond smiled at this sign of confusion, and replied in the same language.
"I should know my father in any garment, black or white, shaven or
bearded," for the Austrian officer was habited quite in the military
manner, and had as warlike a moustachio as any Pandour.

He laughed--we were on the church steps by this time, passing through the
crowd of beggars that usually is there holding up little trinkets for sale
and whining for alms. "You speak Latin," says he, "in the English way,
Harry Esmond; you have forsaken the old true Roman tongue you once knew."
His tone was very frank, and friendly quite; the kind voice of fifteen
years back; he gave Esmond his hand as he spoke.

"Others have changed their coats too, my father," says Esmond, glancing at
his friend's military decoration.

"Hush! I am Mr. or Captain von Holtz, in the Bavarian Elector's service,
and on a mission to his highness the Prince of Savoy. You can keep a
secret I know from old times."

"Captain von Holtz," says Esmond, "I am your very humble servant."

"And you, too, have changed your coat," continues the other, in his
laughing way; "I have heard of you at Cambridge and afterwards: we have
friends everywhere; and I am told that Mr. Esmond at Cambridge was as good
a fencer as he was a bad theologian." (So, thinks Esmond, my old _maitre
d'arm