dreaming of the denizens of the faubourgs, who used to love him so well.  All this seemed to Arthur like a dream from which he could not awake—­there were his enemies, his deadly enemies, before and around him.  He knew that it was the practice of the republican soldiers to massacre all whom they took bearing arms against the Republic he had even heard that it was now their horrid purpose to go further than this, and to slaughter the inhabitants of the whole district which had revolted; at any rate his own doom would be death; he was certain that he had not many days, probably many hours, to live, unless Chapeau should arrive in time, and with sufficient force, to rescue the whole party.  Yet he felt no fear; he could not sufficiently realize the position in which he found himself, to feel the full effects of its danger.  The republican sergeant sat immediately in front of him, and each kept his eye fixed on the other’s face; not that either of them had any object in doing so, any particular motive for watching the other’s countenance, but soon after day-break the gaze of each had become fixed, and it seemed as though neither of them were able to turn away his eyes.

Arthur occupied his mind in speculating on the character of the soldier, in trying to guess from his features whether he were a cruel or a kind-hearted man; whether he were a ferocious democrat, eager for the blood of all who had been born in a rank above him, or merely a well-trained soldier, obeying the behests of those under whose orders it was his duty to act.  The Chevalier had no idea that his own or his friends’ fate depended in any way on the man’s disposition; but such thoughts came across his brain unwittingly, and he could not restrain them.  At last, he felt that he had a kind of intimacy with the sergeant; that if he should chance to meet him after three or four years had passed, he should greet him as an old acquaintance, whom he had well known, and he was sure that the sergeant had the same feeling respecting him.

The day dawned soon after two o’clock, and as by degrees the clear sun-light streamed in at the uncurtained windows, Arthur, in his impatience, thought that the day was advancing; but in reality it was not yet five o’clock, when Santerre, waking with a tremendous yawn, stretched his huge limbs, and then jumped up from the sofa on which he had been lying.

“Now for a bonfire,” said he, “and then for breakfast; or perhaps we had better get our breakfast first, and have our bonfire afterwards.  Old gentleman, I have no doubt my men took strange liberties with your cellar and larder last night.  I hope they have left enough about the place to furnish you with the last meal you will ever eat in this chateau.”

“I know, Sir, what soldiers are in a house,” said the old man.  “I will not say that your men are welcome here, for that would be falsehood; but I begrudge them nothing that they eat and drink”

“Well, that’s kind of you; but, considering that all which is not now eaten and drunk, will be immediately wasted and spoilt, you would certainly be foolish to allow the consumption of your provisions to make you uneasy.  Here, sergeant,” and then Santerre spoke aside to the sergeant, and gave him various orders, which the man departed to obey.