To Colonel HORATIO.

“I think myself obliged to you for so much exceeding the character I gave you; but I value myself on knowing mankind, and am glad to find I was not deceived in you, when I expected you to do more than I durst venture on my own opinion to assure the count.  He tells me, in a letter I received from him the last courier, that the victorious Charles XII. himself cannot behave with greater bravery in the time of action, nor more moderation after it is over.—­This is a great praise, indeed, from such a man as he; and I acquaint you with it not to make you vain, for that would blemish the lustre of your other good qualities, but that you may know how to make proper acknowledgments to that minister.”

“Our court, I know, makes pressing influences to the king of Sweden not to carry on the way any farther:  I wish they may succeed, or if they should not, that you might be able to find some opportunity of quitting the service for reasons which you will see in a letter that accompanies this, and to which nothing can be added to convince you what part you ought to take.—­I shall therefore say no more than that I am, with a very tender regard,

Yours,

PALFOY”

Rejoiced as he was at receiving a letter from the father of his mistress, wrote in a manner which he might look upon as a kind of confirmation he no longer would be refractory to his wishes, the latter part of it contained an enigma he could by no means comprehend.—­It seemed impossible to him there could be any reasons prevalent enough to make him quit, with honour, a prince who had so liberally rewarded his service; but hoping a further explanation, he lost not any time in conjectures; and tearing open the other letter without giving himself time to examine the hand in which it was directed, found, to his inexpressible astonishment, the name of Dorilaus subscribed.  It was indeed wrote by that gentleman, and contained at follows: 

Dear Horatio,

“Accidents, which at our parting neither of us could foresee, have doubtless long since made you cease to hope any continuance of that kindness my former behaviour seemed to promise; but never, perhaps did heaven deal its blessings with a more mysterious hand than it has done to you.—­That seeming neglect in me, at a time when you were a prisoner among strangers, and had most need of my assistance, had the appearance of the greatest misfortune could befall you; yet has it been productive of the greatest good, and laid the foundation of a happiness which cannot be but lasting.—­I reserve the explanation of this riddle till you arrive at Paris, where I now am, and intend to continue my whole life.—­That I impatiently desire to see you, ought to be a sufficient inducement for you to return with as much expedition as possible:—­I will therefore make this experiment of that affection, I might add duty, you owe me, and only give you leave to guess what recompence