To begin with, his parole was not an ordinary leave, afforded by his

captors to save themselves trouble; but a special grace, issuing from

friendship, and therefore requiring to be treated in a friendly vein.

The liberality of these terms had enabled him to dwell as a friend

among friends, and to overhear all that he had heard. In the balance

of perplexities, this weighed heavily against his first impulse to cast

away all except paramount duty to his country. In the next place, he

knew that private feeling urged him as hotly as public duty to cast away

all thought of honour, and make off. For what he had heard about the

"fair secretary" was rankling bitterly in his deep heart. He recalled

at this moment the admirable precept of an ancient sage, that in such

a conflict of duties the doubter should incline to the course least

agreeable to himself, inasmuch as the reasons against it are sure to be

urged the most feebly in self-council. Upon the whole, the question was

a nice one for a casuist; and if there had not been a day to spare, duty

to his country must have overridden private faith.

However, as there was time to spare, he resolved to reconcile private

honour with the sense of public duty; and returning to his room, wrote a

careful letter (of which he kept a copy) to his friend Desportes, now on

board, and commanding the flagship of one division of the flotilla. He

simply said, without giving his reason, that his parole must expire in

eight days after date, allowing one day for delivery of his letter.

Then he told M. Jalais what he had done, and much sorrow was felt in

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