thing.” “He has been modest, perhaps, at the expense of sincerity.” “This Potocki is a great rogue.” “It is for the first time,” interrupted I, “that this epithet has been applied to him; Mons. Potocki is a talented and honest man.” “He is ambitious.” “Yes, Sir, he had the ambition of attempting to save his country.” He smiled bitterly; “But, at least, you will agree with me that your Kollontay is a great rascal.” “Mons. Kollontay is a man of eminent talent and character; I will not, however, conceal from you that, being naturally inclined to violent measures, he was more fit for the volcanic passions of the French than for the mild and humane character of the Poles.” He put many other questions to me, and in an hour he took leave of me coldly, saying repeatedly, that he was sorry to see me so obstinate in my determination to reveal nothing: “You shall repent it,” were the last words he uttered.
After this visit I thought I should be free from any further examination. Tired of reading and walking, I was sitting upon my
