“Descendez donc, Monsieur,” said the man.

“I’ll be d——­d if I do,” said I.

“Comment donc?” said the man.

“Tais-toi bete” said I, “ou je te brulerai la cervelle.”

“Vous f——­e,” said the man, who behaved very well, and instantly began to remove me, vi et armis; but I planted a stomacher in his fifth button, which I knew would put him hors de combat for a few minutes, and by that time, at the rate the carriage was driving, my purpose would have been answered.  The fellow lost his breath—­could not hold on or speak—­so tumbled off and lay in the middle of the road.

As he fell on dry ground and was not an English sailor, I did not jump after him, but left him to his own ease, and we saw no more of him, for we were going ten knots, while he lay becalmed without a breath of wind.  This was one of the most successful acts of usurpation recorded in modern history.  It has its parallels, I know; but I cannot now stop to comment on them, or on my own folly and precipitation.  I was as firmly fixed behind the carriage, as Bonaparte was on the throne of France after the battle of Eylau.

We stopped at a large porte cochere, being the entrance to a very grand house, with lamps at the door, within a spacious court yard; we drove in and drew up.  I was down in a moment, opened the carriage door, and let down the steps.  The lady descended, laid her hand on my arm without perceiving that she had changed her footman, and tripped lightly up the stairs.  I followed her into a handsome saloon, where another servant in livery had placed lights on the table.  She turned round, saw me, and fainted in my arms.

It was, indeed, Eugenia, herself; and with all due respect to my dear Emily, I borrowed a thousand kisses while she lay in a state of torpor, in a fauteuil to which I carried her.  It was some few minutes before she opened her eyes; the man-servant, who had brought the lights, very properly never quitted the room, but was perfectly respectful in his manner, rightly conceiving that I had some authority for my proceedings.

“My dearest Frank,” said Eugenia, “what an unexpected meeting!  What, in the name of fortune, could have brought you here?”

“That,” said I, “is a story too long, Eugenia, for a moment so interesting as this.  I also might ask you the same question; but it is now one o’clock in the morning, and, therefore, too late to begin with inquiry.  This one question, however, I must ask—­are you a mother?”

“I am,” said Eugenia, “of the most lovely boy that ever blessed the eyes of a parent; he is now in perfect health and fast asleep—­come to-morrow, at ten o’clock, and you shall see him.”

“To-morrow,” said I, with surprise, “to-morrow, Eugenia? why am I to quit your house?”

“That also you shall know, to-morrow,” said she; “but now you must do as you are desired.  To-morrow, I will be at home to no one but you.”