that our military envoy had corrupted some clerks at the Ministry of War and had obtained from them some very important confidential documents. The wretched men (there were two of them) had confessed their crime and were to be shot that night. To-morrow all the town would be talking of the affair. But the worst was that the Emperor Napoleon was furiously angry at the discovery and had made up his mind to have the Russian envoy arrested.

‘Such was this de Castel’s disclosure; and though he had spoken in low tones Tomassov remained for a moment stunned as by a great crash.

‘ “Arrested,” he murmured dazedly.

‘ “Yes. And kept as a State prisoner—with everybody belonging to him …”

‘The French officer seized Tomassov’s arm above the elbow and pressed it with force.

‘ “And kept,” he repeated into Tomassov’s very ear, and then letting him go, stepped back a space and remained silent.

‘ “And it’s you! You! who are telling me this …” cried Tomassov. His gratitude was inexpressible though hardly greater than his admiration for the generosity of his future foe. Could a brother have done for him more? He sought the hand of the French officer, but the latter remained wrapped up closely in his cloak. Possibly in the dark he had not noticed the attempt. He moved back a bit and in his self-possessed voice of a man of the world, as though he were speaking across a card-table or something of the sort, he called Tomassov’s attention to the fact that if he meant to make use of the warning the moments were precious.

‘ “They are,” agreed the awed Tomassov. “Good bye, then. I have no words of thanks adequate to your generosity; but if ever I have an opportunity, I swear it … You may command my life …”

‘But the Frenchman had retreated, had already vanished in the dark lonely street. Tomassov was alone. And then he didn’t waste any of the precious minutes of that night.

‘See how people’s idle talk and mere gossip pass into history. In all the memoirs of the time, if you read them, you will find it stated that our envoy was warned by some highly-placed woman who was in love with him. Of course it’s known that he had successes with women, and in the highest spheres too. Yet the person who warned him was no other but our simple Tomassov—an altogether different sort of lover from himself.

‘This is then the secret of our Emperor’s representative’s escape from arrest. He and all his official household got out of France all right—as history records.

‘And amongst that household there was our Tomassov of course. He had, in the words of the French officer, the soul of a warrior. And what more desolate prospect to a man with such a soul than to be imprisoned on the eve of a war; to be cut off from his country in danger, from his military family, from his duty, from honour, and—well—from glory too.

‘Tomassov used to shudder at the mere thought of the moral torture he had escaped; and he nursed in his heart an admiring gratitude for the two people who had saved him from that cruel ordeal. They were wonderful. For him love and friendship were but two aspects of the cult of perfection. He had found these fine examples of it and he vowed them indeed a sort of cult. It affected his attitude towards Frenchmen in general, great patriot as he was. He was indignant at the invasion of his country, but this indignation had no personal animosity in it. His was altogether a fine nature. He grieved at the appalling amount of human suffering he saw around him. Yes, he was compassionate to all forms of suffering in a manly way.