From his light hair and mustache, and ruddy complexion, it was plain to be seen that he was one of the many Irishmen who had taken service in France now that she was likely to go to war with England.
"Ah! is it you, my dear Macdonald," said Pichegru, making a sign to the young man, "I was just going to send for you; here is one of your Scotch or English countrymen."
"Neither the English nor the Scotch are my countrymen, general," said Macdonald. "I am Irish."
"I beg your pardon, colonel," said Pichegru, laughing, "I did not mean to insult you, I only meant that he speaks nothing but English, and, as I do not know it very well, I want to know what he is saying."
"Nothing is easier," replied Macdonald. Then, addressing the young man, he put several questions to him, to which the other replied without an instant's hesitation.
"Has he told you what he wants?" asked Pichegru.
"Yes," replied Macdonald; "he asks for a place in the commissary department."
"Then," Pichegru said to the Pole, "that is all I wanted to know. Do what you have been told, and do not forget anything. If you will be good enough to translate what I have said to him, Macdonald, you will be doing me a great service."
Macdonald repeated, word for word, in English, what the general had said. The pretended Englishman bowed and went out.
"Well," asked Pichegru, "how does he speak English?"