y might come when I might treat my limbs to a
run.

"Museau was very savage when he began to give up all hopes of the first
messenger. He fancied that the man might have got the ransom-money and
fled with it himself. Of course he was prepared to disown any part in
the transaction, should my letter be discovered. His treatment of me
varied according to his hopes or fears, or even his mood for the time
being. He would have me consigned to my quarters for several days at a
time; then invite me to his tipsy supper-table, quarrel with me there,
and abuse my nation; or again break out into maudlin sentimentalities
about his native country of Normandy, where he longed to spend his old
age, to buy a field or two, and to die happy.

"'Eh, Monsieur Museau!' says I, 'ten thousand livres of your money would
buy a pretty field or two in your native country? You can have it for
the ransom of me, if you will but let me go. In a few months you must
be superseded in your command here, and then adieu the crowns and
the fields in Normandy! You had better trust a gentleman and a man of
honour. Let me go home, and I give you my word the ten thousand livres
shall be paid to any agent you may appoint in France or in Quebec.'

"'Ah, young traitor!' roars he, 'do you wish to tamper with my honour?
Do you believe an officer of France will take a bribe? I have a mind to
consign thee to my black-hole, and to have thee shot in the morning.'

"'My poor body will never fetch ten thousand livres,' says I; 'and a
pretty field in Normandy with a cottage...'

"'And an orchard. Ah, sacre bleu!' says Museau, whimpering, 'and a dish
of tripe a la mode du pays!..."

"This talk happened between us again and again, and Museau would order
me to my quarters, and then ask me to supper the next night, and return
to the subject of Normandy, and cider, and trippes a la mode de Caen. My
friend is dead now--"

"He was hung, I trust?" breaks in Colonel Lambert.

"--And I need keep no secret about him. Ladies, I wish I had to offer
you the account of a dreadful and tragical escape; how I slew all the
sentinels of the fort; filed through the prison windows, destroyed a
score or so of watchful dragons, overcame a million of dangers, and
finally effected my freedom. But, in regard of that matter, I have no
heroic deeds to tell of, and own that, by bribery and no other means, I
am where I am."

"But you would have fought, Georgy, if need were," says Harry; "and yo