Monk, astonished at this language, which established between him and the French gentleman equality at least, raised his piercing eye to the stranger’s face, and with a sensible irony conveyed by the inflection of his voice alone, for not a muscle of his face moved, — “I thank you, monsieur,” said he; “but, in the first place, to whom have I the honor of speaking?”

“I sent you my name by your sergeant, my lord.”

“Excuse him, monsieur, he is a Scotsman, — he could not retain it.”

“I am called the Comte de la Fere, monsieur,” said Athos, bowing.

“The Comte de la Fere?” said Monk, endeavoring to recollect the name.  “Pardon me, monsieur, but this appears to be the first time I have ever heard that name.  Do you fill any post at the court of France?”

“None; I am a simple gentleman.”

“What dignity?”

“King Charles I. made me a knight of the Garter, and Queen Anne of Austria has given me the cordon of the Holy Ghost.  These are my only dignities.”

“The Garter! the Holy Ghost!  Are you a knight of those two orders, monsieur?”

“Yes.”

“And on what occasions have such favors been bestowed upon you?”

“For services rendered to their majesties.”

Monk looked with astonishment at this man, who appeared to him so simple and so great at the same time.  Then, as if he had renounced endeavoring to penetrate this mystery of a simplicity and grandeur upon which the stranger did not seem disposed to give him any other information than that which he had already received, — “Did you present yourself yesterday at our advanced posts?”

“And was sent back?  Yes, my lord.”

“Many officers, monsieur, would permit no one to enter their camp, particularly on the eve of a probable battle.  But I differ from my colleagues, and like to leave nothing behind me.  Every advice is good to me; all danger is sent to me by God, and I weigh it in my hand with the energy He has given me.  So, yesterday, you were only sent back on account of the council I was holding.  To-day I am at liberty, — speak.”

“My lord, you have done much better in receiving me, for what I have to say has nothing to do with the battle you are about to fight with General Lambert, or with your camp; and the proof is, that I turned away my head that I might not see your men, and closed my eyes that I might not count your tents.  No, I came to speak to you, my lord, on my own account.”

“Speak then, monsieur,” said Monk.

“Just now,” continued Athos, “I had the honor of telling your lordship that for a long time I lived in Newcastle; it was in the time of Charles I., and when the king was given up to Cromwell by the Scots.”

“I know,” said Monk, coldly.