and baggage.  The days being short, we were obliged to sleep at Dourlens; and, on our arrival at the castle, which is now, as it always has been, a state-prison, we were told it was so full, that it was absolutely impossible to lodge us, and that we had better apply to the Governor, for permission to sleep at an inn.  We then drove to the Governor’s* house, who received us very civilly, and with very little persuasion agreed to our request.  At the best of the miserable inns in the town we were informed they had no room, and that they could not accommodate us in any way whatever, except a sick officer then in the house would permit us to occupy one of two beds in his apartment.

* The Commandant had been originally a private soldier in the regiment of Dillon.—­I know not how he had obtained his advancement, but, however obtained, it proved fatal to him:  he was, a very short time after I saw him, guillotined at Arras, for having borrowed money of a prisoner.  His real crime was, probably, treating the prisoners in general with too much consideration and indulgence; and at this period every suspicion of the kind was fatal.

In England it would not be very decent to make such a request, or to accept such an accommodation.  In France, neither the one nor the other is unusual, and we had suffered lately so many embarrassments of the kind, that we were, if not reconciled, at least inured to them.  Before, however, we could determine, the gentleman had been informed of our situation, and came to offer his services.  You may judge of our surprize when we found in the stranger, who had his head bound up and his arm in a sling, General ____, a relation of Mad. de ____.  We had now, therefore, less scruple in sharing his room, though we agreed, notwithstanding, only to repose a few hours in our clothes.

After taking some tea, the remainder of the evening was dedicated to reciprocal conversation of all kinds; and our guards having acquaintance in the town, and knowing it was impossible for us to escape, even were we so inclined, very civilly left us to ourselves.  We found the General had been wounded at Maubeuge, and was now absent on conge for the recovery of his health.  He talked of the present state of public affairs like a military man who is attached to his profession, and who thinks it his duty to fight at all events, whatever the rights or merits of those that employ him.  He confessed, indeed, that they were repulsing their external enemies, only to confirm the power of those who were infinitely more to be dreaded at home, and that the condition of a General was more to be commiserated at this time than any other:  if he miscarry, disgrace and the Guillotine await him—­if he be successful, he gains little honour, becomes an object of jealousy, and assists in rivetting the chains of his country.  He said, the armies were for the most part licentious and insubordinate, but that the political discipline