is no reason why you should die. I need a secretary, for
mine has just died at Barcelona. I am in the same position as the famous
Baron Goertz, minister of Charles XII. He was traveling toward Sweden
(just as I am going to Paris), and in some little town or other he
chanced upon the son of a goldsmith, a young man of remarkable good
looks, though they could scarcely equal yours. . . . Baron Goertz
discerned intelligence in the young man (just as I see poetry on your
brow); he took him into his traveling carriage, as I shall take you very
shortly; and of a boy condemned to spend his days in burnishing spoons
and forks and making trinkets in some little town like Angouleme, he
made a favorite, as you shall be mine.

"Arrived at Stockholm, he installed his secretary and overwhelmed him
with work. The young man spent his nights in writing, and, like all
great workers, he contracted a bad habit, a trick--he took to chewing
paper. The late M. de Malesherbes use to rap people over the knuckles;
and he did this once, by the by, to somebody or other whose suit
depended upon him. The handsome young secretary began by chewing blank
paper, found it insipid for a while, and acquired a taste for manuscript
as having more flavor. People did not smoke as yet in those days. At
last, from flavor to flavor, he began to chew parchment and swallow
it. Now, at that time a treaty was being negotiated between Russia and
Sweden. The States-General insisted that Charles XII. should make peace
(much as they tried in France to make Napoleon treat for peace in 1814)
and the basis of these negotiations was the treaty between the two
powers with regard to Finland. Goertz gave the original into his
secretary's keeping; but when the time came for laying the draft before
the States-General, a trifling difficulty arose; the treaty was not to
be found. The States-General believed that the Minister, pandering
to the King's wishes, had taken it into his head to get rid of the
document. Baron Goertz was, in fact, accused of this, and the secretary
owned that he had eaten the treaty. He was tried and convicted and
condemned to death.--But you have not come to that yet, so take a cigar
and smoke till we reach the caleche."

Lucien took a cigar and lit it, Spanish fashion, at the priest's cigar.
"He is right," he thought; "I can take my life at any time."

"It often happens that a young man's fortunes take a turn when despair
is darkest," the Spaniard contin