“My lord, I shall try once more to convince your honor.”

“You will not succeed,” replied Monk; “but it is of consequence that you should depart from Newcastle without leaving of your passage the least suspicion that might prove injurious to me or you.  To-morrow my officers think Lambert will attack me.  I, on the contrary, am convinced he will not stir; it is in my opinion impossible.  Lambert leads an army devoid of homogeneous principles, and there is no possible army with such elements.  I have taught my soldiers to consider my authority subordinate to another, therefore, after me, round me, and beneath me, they still look for something.  It would result that if I were dead, whatever might happen, my army would not be demoralized all at once; it results, that if I choose to absent myself, for instance, as it does please me to do sometimes, there would not be in the camp the shadow of uneasiness or disorder.  I am the magnet — the sympathetic and natural strength of the English.  All those scattered irons that will be sent against me I shall attract to myself.  Lambert, at this moment, commands eighteen thousand deserters; but I have never mentioned that to my officers, you may easily suppose.  Nothing is more useful to an army than the expectation of a coming battle; everybody is awake — everybody is on guard.  I tell you this that you may live in perfect security.  Do not be in a hurry, then, to cross the seas; within a week there will be something fresh, either a battle or an accommodation.  Then, as you have judged me to be an honorable man, and confided your secret to me, I have to thank you for this confidence, and I shall come and pay you a visit or send for you.  Do not go before I send word.  I repeat the request.”

“I promise you, general,” cried Athos, with a joy so great, that in spite of all his circumspection, he could not prevent its sparkling in his eyes.

Monk surprised this flash, and immediately extinguished it by one of those silent smiles which always caused his interlocutors to know they had made no inroad on his mind.

“Then, my lord, it is a week that you desire me to wait?”

“A week? yes, monsieur.”

“And during those days what shall I do?”

“If there should be a battle, keep at a distance from it, I beseech you.  I know the French delight in such amusements; — you might take a fancy to see how we fight, and you might receive some chance shot.  Our Scotsmen are very bad marksmen, and I do not wish that a worthy gentleman like you should return to France wounded.  Nor should I like to be obliged, myself, to send to your prince his million left here by you; for then it would be said, and with some reason, that I paid the Pretender to enable him to make war against the parliament.  Go, then, monsieur, and let it be done as has been agreed upon.”

“Ah, my lord,” said Athos, “what joy it would give me to be the first that penetrated to the noble heart which beats beneath that cloak!”