"Certainly." 

 "If anything ever strikes me as suspicious, I will write to you about it and ask your advice. Then will be the time ..." 

 "Don't do any such thing, my young friend. You had better realize now that over there you will inevitably be surrounded by spies. Never write a letter you don't want the Grand Duke to read for you can be quite sure that if he wants to, he won't ask your permission. Once at Lautenburg you'll be absolutely isolated from the world. I know the palace. Its magnificence does not prevent it being more of a fortress than a château." 

 "I shall always have Count de Marçais." 

 M. Thierry smiled, a smile which recalled Ribeyre's words: "He's not much good at getting out of a hole." 

 "Well," he said, "I see your mind is absolutely made up. After all, my apprehensions are possibly exaggerated. You are young and without dependents. You have resolution and strength of mind. I don't know whether I have any right to blame your thirst for adventure. From that point of view I'm possibly too much the slave to my academic outlook. Give me peace and a library. For instance," he concluded, "at Lautenburg you will have one of the finest libraries in the world at your disposal. The Grand Duke's collection is famous. It contains the manuscripts of Erasmus and most of Luther's. So go, my boy. 

 "One minute, though," he added. "Come back after you have seen Count Marçais. I may be able to give you some practical hints on the best way of performing your tutorial functions." 

 A note, with a dainty purple seal, was waiting for me at my lodgings. Count Marçais wrote that he would be delighted to see me that day at three o'clock. As I walked to the house of the French Minister at Lautenburg in the Rue Alphonse de Neuville, I reviewed the details of my conversation with M. Thierry. He knows a good deal more than he likes to say, I thought. Was I really being a fool? Well, it remained to be seen. After all, there is no greater folly than letting 12,000 a year go at twenty-five for the pleasure of leading a dull, cul-de-sac existence. 

 In the light of after events my opinion remains the same. 

 Count Mathieu de Marçais had much the same appearance and presence as those with which tradition endows Melarclus, notably the reserved, knowing air of the diplomatist. With such a mask a man can afford the luxury of an empty head. No one can 

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