turn (and this shall
be but rarely) request a favour of you, ask me not for what end nor
hesitate to adopt the means I shall propose. You seem startled; are you
content at this understanding between us, or will you retract the bond?"

"My father," said I, "there is enough to startle me in your proposal;
it greatly resembles that made by the Old Man of the Mountains to his
vassals, and it would not exactly suit my inclinations to be called upon
some morning to act the part of a private executioner."

The priest smiled. "My young friend," said he, "those days have passed;
neither religion nor friendship requires of her votaries sacrifices of
blood. But make yourself easy; whenever I ask of you what offends your
conscience, even in a punctilio, refuse my request. With this exception,
what say you?"

"That I think I will agree to the bond: but, father, I am an irresolute
person; I must have time to consider."

"Be it so. To-morrow, having surrendered my charge to your uncle, I
depart for France."

"For France!" said I; "and how? Surely the war will prevent your
passage."

The priest smiled. Nothing ever displeased me more than that priest's
smile. "The ecclesiastics," said he, "are the ambassadors of Heaven, and
have nothing to do with the wars of earth. I shall find no difficulty in
crossing the Channel. I shall not return for several months, perhaps not
till the expiration of a year: I leave you, till then, to decide upon
the terms I have proposed to you. Meanwhile, gratify my vanity by
employing my power; name some commission in France which you wish me to
execute."

"I can think of none,--yet, stay;" and I felt some curiosity to try the
power of which he boasted,--"I have read that kings are blest with a
most accommodating memory, and perfectly forget their favourites when
they can be no longer useful. You will see, perhaps, if my father's name
has become a Gothic and unknown sound at the court of the Great King.
I confess myself curious to learn this, though I can have no personal
interest in it."

"Enough, the commission shall be done. And now, my child, Heaven bless
you! and send you many such friends as the humble priest, who, whatever
be his failings, has, at least, the merit of wishing to serve those whom
he loves."

So saying, the priest closed the door. Sinking into a revery, as his
footsteps died upon my ear, I muttered to myself: "Well, well, my sage
ecclesiastic, the game is not over yet; let us