My reader (alas! for my character for judgment) knows upon how little I founded the conviction; but I have often, in these Confessions, avowed my failing, par excellence, to be a great taste for self-deception; and here was a capital occasion for its indulgence.
"We shall have abundant time to discuss this later on," said Trevanion, laying his hand upon my shoulder to rouse my wandering attention--"for now, I perceive, we have only eight minutes to spare." As he spoke, a dragoon officer, in an undress, rode up to the window of the carriage, and looking steadily at our party for a few seconds, asked if we were "Messieurs les Anglais;" and, almost without waiting for reply, added, "You had better not go any farther in your carriage, for the next turn of the road will bring you in sight of the village." We accordingly stopped the driver, and having (with) some difficulty aroused O'Leary, got out upon the road.

The militaire here gave his horse to a groom, and proceeded to guide us through a corn-field by a narrow path, with whose windings and crossings he appeared quite conversant.

We at length reached the brow of a little hill, from which an extended view of the country lay before us, showing the Seine winding its tranquil course between the richly tilled fields, dotted with many a pretty cottage.

Turning abruptly from this point, our guide led us, by a narrow and steep path, into a little glen, planted with poplar and willows.

A small stream ran through this, and by the noise we soon detected that a mill was not far distant, which another turning brought us at once in front of.
And here I cannot help dwelling upon the "tableau" which met our view.
In the porch of the little rural mill sat two gentlemen, one of whom I immediately recognised as the person who had waited upon me, and the other I rightly conjectured to be my adversary.