| Three years later the political turmoil continues in France and persecuted aristocrats flee to England for safety. Mr. Lorry is sent to a Paris branch of the bank. |
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 | But, although you are the youngest man that ever lived, I must still suggest to you— | |
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| I understand. That I am too old? | |
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| Unsettled weather, a long journey, uncertain means of traveling, a disorganized country, a city that may not be even safe for you. | |
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| My dear Charles, you touch some of the reasons for my going: not for my staying away. It is safe enough for me; nobody will care to interfere with an old fellow of hard upon fourscore when there are so many people there much better worth interfering with. As to its being a disorganised city, if it were not a disorganised city there would be no occasion to send somebody from our House here to our House there, who knows the city and the business, of old, and is in Tellson’s confidence. As to the uncertain traveling, the long journey, and the winter weather, if I were not prepared to submit myself to a few inconveniences for the sake of Tellson’s, after all these years, who ought to be? | |
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| I wish I were going myself, | |
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| Tut! Nonsense, sir!—And, my dear Charles, you are to remember, that getting things out of Paris at this present time, no matter what things, is next to an impossibility. Papers and precious matters were this very day brought to us here (I speak in strict confidence; it is not business-like to whisper it, even to you), by the strangest bearers you can imagine, every one of whom had his head hanging on by a single hair as he passed the Barriers. At another time, our parcels would come and go, as easily as in business-like Old England; but now, everything is stopped. | |
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