I took off the little locket coutaining my last remembrance of
Clotilde, and put it into his hands, requesting him, if he survived,
to transmit it to his incomparable countrywoman, with an assurance
that I remembered her in an hour when all else was forgotten.

"I shall perform the part of your legatee," said he, "till to-morrow;
then I will find some other depositary. Here you must know that
heirship is rapid, and that the will is executed before the ink is
dry." He turned away to hide a tear. "I have not known you long, sir,"
said he; "but in this place we must be expeditious in every thing. You
are too young to die. If you are sacrificed, I am convinced that you
will die like a gentleman and a man of honour. And yet I have some
feeling, some presentiment, nay almost a consciousness, that you will
not be cut off, at least until you are as weary of the world as I am."

I endeavoured to put on a face of resignation, if not of cheerfulness,
and said, "That though my country might revenge my death, my being
engaged in its service would only make my condemnation inevitable. But
I was prepared."

"At all events, my young friend," said he, "if you escape from this
pandemonium of France, take this paper, and vindicate the memory of
Cassini."

He gave me a memoir, which I could not help receiving with a smile,
from the brevity of the period during which the trust was likely to
hold. The gendarme now came up to demand my attendance. I shook hands
with the marquis, who at that moment was certainly no philosopher, and
followed the train.