ung emigres into his service.'

I was convinced that he was lying, but none the less I had to bow and
utter a few words of cold thanks.

'I see that you still bear me some grudge for what passed between us the
other day,' said he, 'but really, my dear Louis, you have no occasion to
do so. It was your own good which I had chiefly at heart. I am neither
a young nor a strong man, Louis, and my profession, as you have seen, is
a dangerous one. There is my child, and there is my estate. Who takes
one, takes both. Sibylle is a charming girl, and you must not allow
yourself to be prejudiced against her by any ill temper which she may
have shown towards me. I will confess that she had some reason to be
annoyed at the turn which things had taken. But I hope to hear that you
have now thought better upon this matter.'

'I have never thought about it at all, and I beg that you will not
discuss it,' said I curtly.

He stood in deep thought for a few moments, and then he raised his evil
face and his cruel grey eyes to mine.

'Well, well, that is settled then,' said he. 'But you cannot bear me a
grudge for having wished you to be my successor. Be reasonable, Louis.
You must acknowledge that you would now be six feet deep in the
salt-marsh with your neck broken if I had not stood your friend, at some
risk to myself. Is that not true?'

'You had your own motive for that,' said I.

'Very likely. But none the less I saved you. Why should you bear me
ill will? It is no fault of mine if I hold your estate.'

'It is not on account of that.'

'Why is it then?'

I could have explained that it was because he had betrayed his comrades,
because his daughter hated him, because he had ill-used his wife,
because my father regarded him as the source of all his troubles--but
the salon of the Empress was no place for a family quarrel, so I merely
shrugged my shoulders, and was silent.

'Well, I am very sorry,' said he, 'for I had the best of intentions
towards you. I could have advanced you, for there are few men in
France who exercise more influence. But I have one request to make to
you.'

'What is that, sir?'

'I have a number of personal articles, belonging to your father--his
sword, his seals, a deskful of letters, some silver plate--such things
in short as you would wish to keep in memory of him. I should be glad
if you will come to Grosbois--if it is only for one night--and look over
these things, choosing what