my temper
could not brook the indignity of listening to the tiresome accusation
and the stupid malevolence of the corporal, whose hatred was excited by
the influence I wielded over my comrades.

It was long past noon ere the proceedings terminated, for the list was a
full one, and at length the Court rose, apparently not sorry to exchange
their tiresome duties for the pleasant offices of the dinner-table. No
sentences had been pronounced, but one very striking incident seemed
to shadow forth a gloomy future. Three, of whom I was one, were marched
off, doubly guarded, before the rest, and confined in separate cells of
the 'Salle,' where every precaution against escape too plainly showed
the importance attached to our safe keeping.

At about eight o'clock, as I was sitting on my bed--if that inclined
plane of wood, worn by the form of many a former prisoner, could deserve
the name--a sergeant entered with the prison allowance of bread and
water. He placed it beside me without speaking, and stood for a few
seconds gazing at me.

'What age art thou, lad?' said he, in a voice of compassionate interest.

'Something over fifteen, I believe,' replied I.

'Hast father and mother?'

'Both are dead!'

'Uncles or aunts living?'

'Neither.'

'Hast any friends who could help thee?'

'That might depend on what the occasion for help should prove, for I
have one friend in the world.'

'Who is he?'

'Colonel Mahon, of the Cuirassiers.'

'I never heard of him--is he here?'

'No, I left him at Nancy; but I could write to him.'

'It would be too late, much too late.'

'How do you mean--too late?' asked I tremblingly.

'Because it is fixed for to-morrow evening,' replied he in a low,
hesitating voice.

'What? the--the----' I could not say the word, but merely imitated the
motion of presenting and firing. He nodded gravely in acquiescence.

'What hour is it to take place?' asked I.

'After evening parade. The sentence must be signed by General Berthier,
and he will not be here before that time.'

'It would be too late then, sergeant,' said I, musing, 'far too late.
Still I should like to write the letter; I should like to thank him for
his kindness in the past, and show him, too, that I have not been either
unworthy or ungrateful. Could you let me have paper and pen, sergeant?'

'I can venture so far, lad; but I cannot let thee have a light, it is
against orders; and during the day, thou 'll be too strictly watch