“I'm quite positive that I'm right, however,” said he, “and you must allow me to acquit myself of the obligation. Who is your banker at Paris?”
I had to say that so many years had passed over since I was there, I really had not thought of selecting one.
“But you are going on thither?” asked he.
“Yes, in a day or two; that is, as soon as I have arranged a difficulty about my passport.”
“If that's the only thing that detains you,” said he, “pray accept of mine. In travelling with my friend Mr. Fox, I need none.”
I turned at the sound of the name, and at once recognized, by the resemblance to the prints, the bluff and manly features of the great leader of the Opposition.
“This is our famous whist-player, Fox, Mr. Carew,” said Canthorpe, presenting me; and the other rose and received me most courteously, adding some little compliments on my reputed skill at the game.
While we were yet talking, their breakfast made its appearance, and I was invited to partake of the meal,—a politeness which I accepted of readily, while I congratulated myself by thinking that up to this time at least O'Kelly had not divulged the secret of my former station.
The conversation turned principally on France and its relations with England; and I was surprised to find the great parliamentary leader so little acquainted with either the character of the people or of those who ruled them. He seemed willing to accept all the present civil overtures as guarantees of lasting and cordial friendship, and to regard as antiquated and unworthy prejudices those expressions of distrust to which, in my more intimate knowledge of France, I occasionally gave utterance.
“Mr. Carew's whist experiences, I perceive',” said he, “are not his guides in politics. He will not trust his partner.”