“No; we separated at the same moment.”
“Who accompanied you to the barracks?”
“No one; I returned alone.”
“And this Monsieur de Beauvais,—you can't tell anything of him? What age is he? what height?”
“About my own,” said I, blushing deeply at the thought of the events of a few moments back. “He may be somewhat older, but he looks not much more than twenty-one or two.”
“Have you mentioned any of these circumstances to any of your brother officers or to your colonel?”
“No, sir, never.”
“Very right, sir. These are times in which discretion is of no common importance. I have only to recommend similar circumspection in future. It is probable that some of these gentlemen may visit you and write to you; they may invite you to sup or to dine. If so, sir, accept the invitation. Be cautious, however, not to speak of this interview to any one. Remember, sir, I am the messenger of one who never forgave a breach of trust, but who also never fails to reward loyalty and attachment. If you be but prudent, Mr. Burke, your fortune is certain.”
With these words. Monsieur Gisquet threw his cloak over his shoulder, and raising his hat, he bowed formally to me and withdrew; leaving me to meditations which, I need not say, were none of the happiest.
If my fears were excited by the thought of the acquaintances I had so rashly formed, so also was my pride insulted by the system of watching to which my movements had been subjected; and deeper still, by the insulting nature of the proposal the minister of police had not scrupled to make to me,—on reflecting over which, only, did I perceive how base and dishonorable it was.