Alfred; or, The Adventures of a French Gentleman — page 67: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

54 OF A FRENCH GENTLEMAN. quired the old man, while he plunged his hands into the pockets with a care that showed the little reliance he meant to place on the answer which the convict was certain to return to his question. ‘¢ No—but I have an important document in my possession, and ~ I suppose the law does not authorize you to take it away from me.” ‘¢ Nous verrons,” returned the old man, fishing out the paper, and putting on his spectacles to examine it. ‘‘ "Tis a good and genuine passport, my lad,”’ he added, casting a searching glance at Belle-Rose; ‘‘ marked with the regular stamp—duly signed—and endorsed. And the personal description too,” he continued lei- surely, ‘‘ what says that? Age—figure—hair, dark—forehead, high—eyebrows, black—nose—mouth—chin—eh! eh! all right to a nicety: and the name, Henri Mercier.—My good fellow,” said the old man abruptly, ‘*‘ how came you by this passport ?” ‘¢ My days are devoted to the service of La France,” replied Belle-Rose boldly, but with a partial anxiety; for his future fate depended upon the veracity of Leblond’s mysterious statements— and that veracity was now put to a certain proof. He felt like a man standing on the verge of a vast precipice, with an avalanche above his head, and a torrent beneath his feet—expecting succour, and yet aware of the possibility, or even the probability of its fail- ure. It was the most important moment of his life—and he knew it to be such. The old man hesitated—gazed at the passport, then at Belle-Rose, then at the passport again; and, perhaps fearful that hazard alone might have dictated the convict’s reply—or per- haps to make doubly sure—he seemed to wait for him to say some thing more. Belle-Rose’s heart sank within him ;—he feared it was all over— that Leblond had deceived him—that his sanguine anticipations were vain. But he resolved to be convinced at once; and there- fore, without mystery or disguise, fixing a penetrating glance upon the old man, and drawing himself up to his full height, to throw as much importance as possible into his attitude, he pronounced in a firm tone the words ‘* LA FRANCE.” ‘¢ T understand you—'tis well,’’ muttered Plombier: ‘‘ the exam- ination is finished. You will keep that document,” he added, re- turning the passport to the hand of Belle-Rose, ‘ until an opportu- nity shall render it useful to you.” : ‘¢ And when may that be?” enquired Belle-Rose, delighted at the turn which the mysterious affair had taken. “ As speedily as possible. You may rely upon my aid.” ‘¢ You are yourself, then, enlisted in the service ?” ‘* In what service?” enquired Plombier, feigning astonishment. ‘¢ In some service, evidently,” returned Belle-Rose. ‘¢ My friend,” said the old man, in a firm but kind tone, ‘do not seek to penetrate mysteries as yet unveiled but to few. It is true I am in a certain service—and you must embrace the same: but perhaps you may never know by whom, nor for what, you will have beenemployed. The mighty source of a thousand intrigues, in comparison with which the circumstances of your adventure are nothing,” continued Plombier solemnly, ‘‘ remains concealed from our eyes; and God only knows for what purposes we are reserved. CONNIE OOKS (E©)