te a politician, apparently," said Monk.

"Why, we sailors, my lord, who are accustomed to study the water and the
air--that is to say, the two most changeable things in the world--are
seldom deceived as to the rest."

"Now, then," said Monk, changing the conversation, "I am told you are
going to provision us."

"I shall do my best, my lord."

"How much do you ask for your fish in the first place?"

"Not such a fool as to name a price, my lord."

"Why not?"

"Because my fish is yours."

"By what right?"

"By that of the strongest."

"But my intention is to pay you for it."

"That is very generous of you, my lord."

"And the worth of it--"

"My lord, I fix no price."

"What do you ask, then?"

"I only ask to be permitted to go away."

"Where?--to General Lambert's camp?"

"I!" cried the fisherman; "what should I go to Newcastle for, now I have
no longer any fish?"

"At all events, listen to me."

"I do, my lord."

"I shall give you some advice."

"How, my lord!--pay me and give me good advice likewise! You overwhelm
me, my lord."

Monk looked more earnestly than ever at the fisherman, about whom he
still appeared to entertain some suspicion. "Yes, I shall pay you, and
give you a piece of advice; for the two things are connected. If you
return, then, to General Lambert--"

The fisherman made a movement of his head and shoulders, which
signified, "If he persists in it, I won't contradict him."

"Do not cross the marsh," continued Monk: "you will have money in your
pocket, and there are in the marsh some Scottish ambuscaders I have
placed there. Those people are very intractable; they understand but
very little of the language which you speak, although it appears to me
to be composed of three languages. They might take from you what I have
given you, and, on your return to your country, you would not fail to
say that General Monk has two hands, the one Scottish, and the other
English; and that he takes back with the Scottish hand what he has given
with the English hand."

"Oh! general, I shall go where you like, be sure of that," said the
fisherman, with a fear too expressive not to be exaggerated. "I only
wish to remain here, if you will allow me to remain."

"I readily believe you," said Monk, with an imperceptible smile, "but I
cannot, nevertheless, keep you in my tent."

"I have no such wish, my lord, and desire only that your lordship should
point out where you will have me posted.