last days of December were at hand; every body was busy with hope
or preparation; the women carried off our garments; then they brought
us an abundance of fishing lines, hidden beneath their petticoats;
and, finally, a rope, strong enough to hang a man, was spun in
darkness by the whole detachment.

The wished-for day at length came, with the jollity, merriment, and
drunkenness, that attend it almost universally throughout _la belle
France_. But there was not so sober a party in the kingdom as that
which was anxiously gathered together over a wineless meal in the
chateau of Brest. We trembled lest a word, a traitor, or an accident,
should frustrate our hope of life and freedom.

In the afternoon, our Spanish women, gay with fresh apparel, dashing
ribbons, and abundant claret, visited their fluttering birds in the
cage, and _assured_ success. The sergeant of the guard was married to
one of their intimate friends, and, _in her_ company, they were
confident, on such a night, of reaching the guard-room. A long
embrace, perhaps a kiss, and a most affectionate farewell!

Supper was over. Muster passed. Oh! how slowly was drawn the curtain
of darkness over that shortest of days. Would night _never_ come? It
did. By eight o'clock the severed bar hung by threads, while the
well-greased _lazo_ lay coiled on the sill. Nine o'clock brought the
sentinel, who began his customary tramp with great regularity, but
broke forth in a drinking song as soon as the sergeant was out of
hearing.

So impatient were my comrades for escape, that they declined waiting
till the appointed hour of eleven, and, at ten, ranged themselves
along the floor, with the end of the rope firmly grasped, ready for a
strong and sudden pull, while the intrepid Germaine stood by, bar in
hand, ready to strike, if necessary. At a signal from me, after I had
dropped the _lazo_, they were to haul up, make fast, and follow us
through the aperture by a longer rope, which was already fastened for
our descent.

Softly the sash was opened, and, stretching my neck into the darkness,
I distinctly saw, by a bright star-light, the form of the sentinel,
pacing, with staggering strides, beneath the casement. Presently, he
came to a dead halt, at the termination of a _roulade_ in his song,
and, in a wink, the _lazo_ was over him. A kick with my heel served
for signal to the halliards, and up flew the pendant against the
window-sill. But, alas! it was not the sentinel. The noo