"How do you mean?"
"Ah, you may well ask!" cried Madame de Cornuel. "Why, he lived for many years in the disguise of a woman, and had all sorts of curious adventures."
"/Mort Diable/!" cried Hamilton; "it was entering your ranks, Madame, as a spy. I hear he makes but a sorry report of what he saw there."
"Come, Count Antoine," cried the lively de Cornuel, "we must not turn our weapons against each other; and when you attack a woman's sex you attack her individually. But what makes you look so intently, Count Devereux, at that ugly priest?"
The person thus flatteringly designated was Montreuil; he had just caught my eye, among a group of men who were conversing eagerly.
"Hush! Madame," said I, "spare me for a moment;" and I rose, and mingled with the Abbe's companions.
"So, you have only arrived to-day," I heard one of them say to him.
"No, I could not despatch my business before."
"And how are matters in England?"
"Ripe! if the life of his Majesty (of France) be spared a year longer, we will send the Elector of Hanover back to his principality."