Frank placed his hand upon his breast, and bowed in silence.
“Take the dress you will find on that chair: a carriage is now ready, waiting in the court-yard—get into it, and set out for Bâle. On your arrival there, which will be—mark me well—about eight o’clock on the morning of Thursday, you’ll leave the carriage, and send it into the town, while you must station yourself on the bridge over the Rhine, and take an exact note of everything that occurs, and every one that passes, till the cathedral clock strikes three. Then, the calèche will be in readiness for your return; and lose not a moment in repairing to Paris.”
It was an hour beyond midnight, in the early part of the following week, that a calèche, travel-stained and dirty, drove into the court of the minister’s hotel, and five minutes after, Frank, wearied and exhausted, was ushered into M. de Louvois’ presence.
“Well, Monsieur,” said he impatiently, “what have you seen?”
“This, may it please your Excellency,” said Frank, trembling, “is a note of it; but I am ashamed that so trivial an account——”
“Let us see—let us see,” said the minister.
“In good truth, I dare scarcely venture to read such a puerile detail.”
“Read it at once, Monsieur,” was the stern command.
Frank’s face became deep-red with shame, as he began thus:—
“Nine o’clock.—I see an ass coming along, with a child leading him. The ass is blind of one eye.—A fat German sits on the balcony, and is spitting into the Rhine——”