“Not so fast, Sir,” said I, laying firm hand on my companion’s shoulder, “I know you now, and I thank Providence that I have found you. Marie Oswald, it is not lightly that I will part with you!”
“With all my heart, Sir, with all my heart. But, morbleu! Monsieur le Comte, do take your hand from my shoulder: I am a nervous man, and your pistols are loaded, and perhaps you are choleric and hasty. I assure you I am far from wishing to part with you abruptly, for I have watched you for the last two days in order to enjoy the honour of this interview.”
“Indeed! your wish will save both of us a world of trouble. I believe you may serve me effectually; if so, you will find me more desirous and more able than ever to show my gratitude.”
“Sir, you are too good,” quoth Mr. Oswald, with an air far more respectful than he had yet shown me. “Let us make to your inn, and there I shall be most happy to receive your commands.” So saying, Marie pushed on his horse, and I urged my own to the same expedition.
“But tell me,” said I, as we rode on, “why you have wished to meet me?—me whom you so cruelly deserted and forsook?”
“Oh, parbleu, spare me there! it was not I who deserted you: I was compelled to fly; death, murder, on one side; safety, money, and a snug place in Italy, as a lay-brother of the Institute on the other! What could I do?—you were ill in bed, not likely to recover, not able to protect me in my present peril, in a state that in all probability never would require my services for the future. Oh, Monsieur le Comte, it was not desertion,—that is a cruel word,—it was self-preservation and common prudence.”
“Well,” said I, complaisantly, “you apply words better than I applied them. And how long have you been returned to England?”
“Some few weeks, Count, not more. I was in London when you arrived; I heard of that event; I immediately repaired to your hotel; you were gone to my Lord Bolingbroke’s; I followed you thither; you had left Dawley when I arrived there; I learned your route and followed you. Parbleu and morbleu! I find you, and you take me for a highwayman!”
“Pardon my mistake: the clearest-sighted men are subject to commit such errors, and the most innocent to suffer by them. So Montreuil persuaded you to leave England; did he also persuade you to return?”
“No: I was charged by the Institute with messages to him and others. But we are near the town, Count, let us defer our conversation till then.”