“MONSIEUR LE MARECHAL,—­I send this under cover of the Governor from the city of Bayonne, out of which I hope to escape to-night, having come so far in obedience to my word, which appears to be more sacred than that of a Marshal of France.  My escort having been overpowered between Vittoria and Tolosa, I declined the rescue offered me, but not before your letter to the Governor had been broken open and its contents read, in my presence.  This letter also I saw restored to its bearer, who during its perusal lay unconscious, of a severe and painful wound in his sword-arm.  I beg to assure you that he has behaved in all respects as a gentleman of courage and honour:  and, conceiving that you owe me some reparation, I shall rely on you that his prospects as a soldier are not in any way compromised by the miscarriage of your benevolent plans concerning me.”

I laughed aloud, and even the Doctor relaxed his features.

“Bravo, kinsman!” said I.  “If Marmont hates one thing more than another it’s to see his majestic image diminished in the looking-glass.  But—­ faith!  I’d have kept that letter in my pocket until I was many miles south of Bayonne.”

“South?  You don’t suppose I had any intention of escaping towards the Pyrenees?  Why, my dear fellow, that’s the very direction in which they were bound to search.”

“Oh, very well,” said I—­a trifle nettled, I will confess—­“perhaps you preferred Paris!”

“Precisely,” was the cool answer.  “I preferred Paris:  and having but an hour or two to spare before the hotels closed, I at once inquired at the chief hotels if any French officer were starting that night for the capital.  The first-named, if I remember, the Hotel du Sud—­I drew blank.  At the second, the Trois Couronnes, I was informed that a chaise and four had been ordered by no less a man than General Souham, who would start that night as soon as he returned from supping with the Governor.  I waited:  the General arrived a few minutes before ten o’clock:  I introduced myself—­”

“General Souham,” I groaned.  “Reverend father, I have not yet tasted the wine of Rueda:  it appears to me that the fumes are strong enough.  He tells me he introduced himself to General Souham!”

“—­and, I assure you, found him excellent company.  We travelled three in the chaise—­the General, his aide-de-camp, and your fortunate kinsman.  A second chaise followed with the General’s baggage.  He and the aide-de-camp at times beguiled the road with a game of picquet:  for myself, I disapprove of cards.”

“Doubtless you told them so at an early stage?” I suggested, with a last effort at irony.

“I was obliged to, seeing that the General challenged me to a partie; but I did not, I hope, adopt a tone inconsistent with good fellowship.  We travelled through to Paris, with a few hours’ break at Orleans—­an opportunity which I seized to purchase a suit of clothes more congruous than my uniform with the part I had to play in Paris.  I had ventured to ask General Souham’s advice, and he assured me that a British officer, though a prisoner on parole, might incur some risk from the Parisian mob by wearing his uniform in public.”