“Bravo, bravo!” exclaimed good-natured Varnhorst.  “Guiscard, you are the first of negotiators!”

“No,” was the quiet reply.  “I pretend to nothing more than the art of being a good listener.  I merely waited until the duke had spoken his will, and then interposed my suggestion.  It was adopted at once; and now our young friend has only to ride hard to-night, and come to shade his brow with a share of any laurels which we may pluck in the forest of Argonne, in the next twenty-four hours.”

I was enraptured—­the communication was made in the most courteous manner to the marquis.  He had at once perceived the difficulties of his position, and was glad to leave them behind as far as possible.  Our escort was mounted within a few minutes, and we were in full gallop over the fruitful levels of Champagne.

To speed of this order, time and space were of little importance; and with the rapidity of a flock of falcons, we reached the foot of the noble hill, on which, embosomed in the most famous vineyards of the vine country, stood the Chateau.  It was blazing with lights, and had evidently lost nothing of its population by the change of headquarters.  We were soon brought to a stand by a challenge in French, and found that we were no longer among the jovial Jaegers of Deutchland.  We had fallen in with the advanced corps of the Emigrant army under the command of the Prince of Conde.

Here was a new dilemma.  Our prisoner’s was perhaps the most startling name which could have been pronounced among those high-blooded and headlong men.  The army was composed almost wholly of the noblesse; and Lafayette, under all his circumstances of birth, sentiments, and services, had been the constant theme of noble indignation.  The champion of the American Republic, the leader of the Parisian movement, the commandant of the National Guard, the chief of the rebel army in the field—­all was terribly against him.  Even the knowledge of his fall could not have appeased their resentment; and the additional knowledge that he was within their hands, might have only produced some unfortunate display of what the philosopher calls “wild justice.”  In this difficulty, while the officer of the patrol was on his way to the Chateau to announce our coming, I consulted the captain of my escort.  But, though a capital sabreur, he was evidently not made to solve questions in diplomacy.  After various grimaces of thinking, and even taking the meersham from his mouth, I was thrown on my own resources.  My application to the captive general was equally fruitless:  it was answered with the composure of one prepared for all consequences, but it amounted simply to—­“Do just as you please.”