“Not all, perhaps, but some, certainly. My dear friend, you have the gift of tongues; you can move, persuade, influence to admiration. I myself would try, but you know the English language better, I think, than I, and then I am unknown to these gentlemen. Ah, you will not desert us, d'Haricot! Your King demands this service of you!”
“Of me?”
“Yes; he mentioned your name when I spoke to him of our schemes.”
“He wished me to perform this act?”
“I had not then arranged it. But is it for you to choose the nature of your service?”
“If it is put to me thus, I shall endeavor to do my best,” I replied. “But I confess I do not care for this scheme of yours.”
No use in protesting; the Marquis rose and embraced me with such flattering words as I hesitate to reproduce.
“It is done! It is accomplished already!” he cried.
I disengaged myself and endeavored to reflect. “This is all very well,” I said. “But of what use to us is a bishop?”
“We wish the support of the English Church.”