"Impossible, Father!" the young man interposed with a flush of indignation. "Wallenstein a traitor!"
Father Lamormain made a little movement with his hands.
"I do not say treasonable! We live in times when we find it as difficult to say what is honour as Pilate found it hard to say what was truth. Besides, Wallenstein, being a private gentleman holding no office, may if he so chooses write letters even to Gustavus about ... shall we say butterflies, or forestry, or a thousand subjects."
"But with the open enemy of the Emperor!" protested Nigel.
The priest maintained his suavity.
"Injudicious, let us say, if it be true! It is suspected. Now if you should in your journeying intercept any of his messengers, the Emperor's service demands that you should possess yourself of his letters and hand them to the next regular priest you meet for transmission to the Emperor."
At the first grasp of the proposal Nigel was inclined to hesitate. But at the second he saw that there was nothing essentially unbecoming in it. He was in the service of the Emperor, and the Emperor's enemies avowed or secret must be his. There could be no division of allegiance. Besides, it was too impossible.
Father Lamormain watched his face, saw the hesitation, and drew forth a written order, signed by the Emperor himself, to seize the person of any messenger he would who carried letters, examine him, and send unbroken to the Emperor any letters he might seize.
Nigel read it and nodded.