He entered the tent, wrote a few lines, and returned to me.

“M.  Lafayette must consider himself as a prisoner; but as my wish is to treat him with honour, I must beg of you, M. Marston, to take charge of him for the time.  Your offer has relieved me from an embarrassment; and I shall take care to make honourable mention of your conduct in this instance, as in all others, to both the courts of Berlin and St James’s.  The marquis must be sent to Berlin, and I must request that you will be ready to set out with him this evening.”

The sound was a thunder-stoke.  “This evening!” when the decisive action of the war was to be fought next morning.  “To Berlin!” when all my gallant friends were to be on the march to Paris.  Impossible!  I retracted my offer at once.  But the prince, not accustomed to be resisted, held his purpose firmly; representing that, as the French general was actually my prisoner, and as my court was equally interested with those of the Allied powers, in preventing his return to embroil France, “it was my duty, as her commissioner, to see that the measure was effectively performed.”  But the appearance of leaving the army, on the very eve of important service, was not to be argued, or even commanded, away.  The duke was equally inflexible, though his sentences were perhaps shorter than mine; and I finally left his presence, declaring, that if the request were persisted in, I should throw up my commission at once, volunteer as a common trooper into the first squadron which would admit me, and then, his highness, might, of course, order me wherever he pleased.”

A stately smile was the answer to this tirade.  I bowed, and retired.

Within a hundred yards I met my two friends, Varnhorst and Guiscard, and poured out my whole catalogue of wrongs at once.  Varnhorst shared my indignation, fiercely pulled his thick mustaches, and muttered some phrases about oppression, martinetism, and other dangerous topics, which fortunately were scattered on the air.  Guiscard neither raged nor smiled, but walked into the ducal tent.  After a few minutes he returned, and then his sallow countenance wore a smile.  “You have offended the duke desperately,” said he.  “And as a sovereign prince, I dare say that banishment from his territories for life would be the least reparation; but as a general, we think that we cannot have too many good troops, and your proposal to take a Hulan’s lance and pistol in your hand, is irresistible.  In short, he receives you as a volunteer into his own hussars, and as you are henceforth at his disposal, he orders.”—­My tormentor here made a malicious pause, which threw me into a fever.  I gazed on his countenance, to anticipate his mission.  It wore the same deep and moveless expression.  “His highness orders, that you shall escort, with a squadron, General Lafayette, to the Chateau, our former headquarters, and where we first met; there deliver over the Frenchman to an officer of the staff, who will be in readiness to escort him further; and, in the mean time, if the very fiery and independent M. Marston should have no objection to travel at night, he may return, and be in time for whatever is to be done here to-morrow.”