nquires that officer.

"I have lost it."

"A passport is not so easily lost."

"Well, I have lost mine."

"You cannot proceed any further."

"I come from Rome, and I am going to Constantinople, bearing a letter
from Cardinal Acquaviva. Here is the letter stamped with his seal."

"All I can do for you is to send you to M. de Gages."

I found the famous general standing, surrounded by his staff. I told him
all I had already explained to the officer, and begged him to let me
continue my journey.

"The only favour I can grant you is to put you under arrest till you
receive another passport from Rome delivered under the same name as the
one you have given here. To lose a passport is a misfortune which befalls
only a thoughtless, giddy man, and the cardinal will for the future know
better than to put his confidence in a giddy fellow like you."

With these words, he gave orders to take me to the guard-house at St.
Mary's Gate, outside the city, as soon as I should have written to the
cardinal for a new passport. His orders were executed. I was brought back
to the inn, where I wrote my letter, and I sent it by express to his
eminence, entreating him to forward the document, without loss of time,
direct to the war office. Then I embraced Therese who was weeping, and,
telling her to go to Rimini and to wait there for my return, I made her
take one hundred sequins. She wished to remain in Pesaro, but I would not
hear of it; I had my trunk brought out, I saw Therese go away from the
inn, and was taken to the place appointed by the general.

It is undoubtedly under such circumstances that the most determined
optimist finds himself at a loss; but an easy stoicism can blunt the too
sharp edge of misfortune.

My greatest sorrow was the heart-grief of Therese who, seeing me torn
from her arms at the very moment of our union, was suffocated by the
tears which she tried to repress. She would not have left me if I had not
made her understand that she could not remain in Pesaro, and if I had not
promised to join her within ten days, never to be parted again. But fate
had decided otherwise.

When we reached the gate, the officer confined me immediately in the
guard-house, and I sat down on my trunk. The officer was a taciturn
Spaniard who did not even condescend to honour me with an answer, when I
told him that I had money and would like to have someone to wait on me. I
had to pass the night on a little straw, and without food,