“No, sir,” says he, again smiling, “while I withhold my name from you, I won’t place myself at your table. What security have you that I an’t some mean fellow masquerading as a person of quality?”
Thus he ended his work, and restored me the watch, that was now become whole and sound once more, and so prepared to depart. Now I was in some disquiet, fearing to offend him by offering him money, and yet not desiring to send a servant to settle the matter; but he, seeing the strait I was in, named a convenient price, and received it from me with great gravity, saying only that it would provide for his wants for a week, and so departed, saluting me very civilly, but without any servility. And I, remembering thereafter his words and looks, mused long concerning him, wondering who he might be, so that when our friend the doctor arrived that evening I was eager to discover from him all that he knew. And first I desired him to tell me this gentleman’s name, if he were acquainted on’t.
“If I know it,” says he, “ ’tis in strict secrecy, and not to be revealed, but that I won’t tell you. Yet this I may disclose, that this unfortunate gentleman declared his name and quality to certain Hollanders that were sojourning here, asking their good offices with the emperor for his release, but they repaid his confidence only with mockery, and jeered both at him and at the friends whose honour he desires to spare. Since that time, he has vowed not to disclose himself to any but one of his own countrymen.”
“But how came he here, sir?” said I.
“Why, that I may tell you,” says he. “He was sent ambassador from some factory on the coast of Malabar to the princes of these parts, and had the ill luck to visit Seva Gi, the Moratty rebel, on his way hither. Having won his favour and obtained great countenance from him, he came on to Dhilly, where the emperor then was, but his majesty had him at once arrested and clapped in prison, accounting him a spy of Seva Gi. After some time, his imprisonment was made less rigorous, and now ’tis permitted him to go about within the city as he lists, though the emperor hath often looked black at him when news come of Seva Gi’s successes in the war. He will hearken to no entreaties to let him go, even from myself, and ’tis my continual fear lest he shall revenge himself on him in the event of any further victory of the rebel’s.”
“He appears to be a very agreeable person, and one of good parts and conditions,” says I.
“Agreeable? Yes, truly,” said the doctor, “and with an air of contentment also, despite his trials. Of his parts and conditions you may judge by this, that the emperor thought so highly thereof that he would fain have given him high preferment in his army, would he but turn renegado, but he hath always steadfastly refused this compliance. ’Tis a brave man and a patient,” and the doctor sighed heavily; “but I see no chance of his ever being released, nor can I help him to’t. It may be that you, sir,” turning to me, “will be able to bring some solace to this unhappy gentleman by the pleasure of your company and discourse. He is a Hugonot, like yourself, and you should therefore the more readily become friends.”
At this point the doctor was engaged in discourse by Mr Kidder, and I was left to ponder over the hard fortunes of this gentleman, whose appearance and carriage had already aroused in me so much interest. Now as I pondered, it seemed to me that I had heard some part of this history before, though I could not at first decide in my mind when or where this should have been. Considering silently with myself the discourse of our friendly physician, I lit on some two or three words that he had last said, which seemed to stick in my mind and would not be dislodged. He is a Hugonot, like yourself,—when had I heard this before? For some time I could not recall it, but at last, repeating them several times in my mind, there come back to me the recollection of that morning when I had stood with Madam Heliodora upon the veranda at St Thomas, and had heard from her lips those words that had made my life since that time a dreary desert. ’Twas in these very words that she had spoke to me touching that gentleman to whom she was betrothed, the person that, as Mr Martin had showed me, I had hated ever since then with a sullen hatred,—the Viscount de Galampré. Was this gentleman he? Now at first, thinking thus, I was very much tumbled up and down in my mind, finding myself unable to reconcile my hitherto antipathy to Madam Heliodora’s servant, with the kindness that now possessed me on behalf of that Ferringhee, as he called himself, and I thought long upon the matter, coming at last to no decision, save that I must hear from his own lips the truth or falsehood of this phantasy of mine.
Having thus determined, I found next day a ring that Mr Marigny had given to me on our parting at Maderas, whereof the diamond that was set therein was become loose, and sent Loll Duss to seek for him that was called the Ferringhee, and beg of him to wait upon me once more. It wan’t long before he brought him again to my chamber, but to me it seemed a prodigious length of time, so eager was I to be confirmed or contradicted in my guess. But when he was set down, and I had showed him the ring, and explained what lacked therein, I began to cast about in my mind with great uneasiness as to the manner in which I should put to him my question, seeing that once already he had refused me his name, and might deem me unmannerly and prying in asking it again. But while I hummed and hawed, and cast about for some way to begin, he spared me by speaking himself.
“I perceive that this is a French ring, sir,” says he.