ds
lived with Doctor Mopsius, who will give you a character, if need be;
and the landlord of the "Star" will, of course, certify that you are an
honest fellow: but his certificate goes for nothing. As for the rest of
your story, you can fashion that as you will, and make it as romantic
or as ludicrous as your fancy dictates. Try, however, to win the
Chevalier's confidence by provoking his compassion. He gambles a great
deal, and WINS. Do you know the cards well?'

'Only a very little, as soldiers do.'

'I had thought you more expert. You must find out if the Chevalier
cheats; if he does, we have him. He sees the English and Austrian envoys
continually, and the young men of either Ministry sup repeatedly at his
house. Find out what they talk of; for how much each plays, especially
if any of them play on parole: if you can read his private letters, of
course you will; though about those which go to the post, you need not
trouble yourself; we look at them there. But never see him write a note
without finding out to whom it goes, and by what channel or messenger.
He sleeps with the keys of his despatch-box on a string round his neck.
Twenty Frederics, if you get an impression of the keys. You will, of
course, go in plain clothes. You had best brush the powder out of your
hair, and tie it with a riband simply; your moustache you must of course
shave off.

With these instructions, and a very small gratuity, the Captain left me.
When I again saw him, he was amused at the change in my appearance.
I had, not without a pang (for they were as black as jet, and curled
elegantly), shaved off my moustaches; had removed the odious grease and
flour, which I always abominated, out of my hair; had mounted a demure
French grey coat, black satin breeches, and a maroon plush waistcoat,
and a hat without a cockade. I looked as meek and humble as any servant
out of place could possibly appear; and I think not my own regiment,
which was now at the review at Potsdam, would have known me. Thus
accoutred, I went to the 'Star Hotel,' where this stranger was,--my
heart beating with anxiety, and something telling me that this Chevalier
de Balibari was no other than Barry, of Ballybarry, my father's eldest
brother, who had given up his estate in consequence of his obstinate
adherence to the Romish superstition. Before I went in to present
myself, I went to look in the remises at his carriage. Had he the Barry
arms? Yes, there they were: argent, a