e been driven
forth and expatriated to seek a home among strangers,--themselves the
descendants of the fairest chivalry of our land, the proud scions of
Saint Louis? and has your sympathy never strayed across sea to mingle
with their sorrows?" His voice trembled as he spoke, and a large tear
filled his eye and tracked its way along his cheek, as the last word
vibrated on his tongue; and then, as if suddenly remembering how far
he had been carried away by momentary impulse, he added, in an altered
voice, "But what have we to do with these things? Our road is yet to be
travelled by either of us,--yours a fair path enough, if it only fulfil
its early promise. The fortunate fellow that can win his grade while yet
a schoolboy--"

"How came you to know--"

"Oh! I know more than that, Burke; and, believe me, if my foolish
conduct the first day we met had led to anything disastrous, I should
have passed a life of sorrow for it ever after. But we shall have time
enough to talk over all these matters in the green alleys of Versailles,
where I hope to see you before a week be over. Great events may happen
ere long, too. Burke, you don't know it; but I can tell you, a war with
England is at this moment on the eve of declaration."

"Perhaps," said I, somewhat piqued by the tone of superiority in which
he had spoken for some minutes, and anxious to assume for myself a
position which, I forgot, conferred no credit by the manner of its
attainment, "I know more of that than you are aware of."

"Oh," replied he, carelessly, "the gossip of a mess is but little to be
relied on. The sabreurs will always tell you that the order to march is
given."

"I don't mean that," said I, haughtily. "My information has a higher
source, the highest of all,--Greneral Bonaparte himself!"

"How! what! Bonaparte himself!"

"Listen to me," said I; and hurried on by a foolish vanity, and a
strange desire I cannot explain to make a confidant in what I felt to
be a secret too weighty for my own bosom, I told him all that I had
overheard when seated behind the screen in the salon at the Tuileries.

"You heard this,--you, yourself?" cried he, as his eyes flashed, and he
grasped my arm with an eager grip.

"Yes, with my own ears I heard it," said I, half trembling at the
disclosure I made, and ready to give all I possessed to recall my words.

"My friend, my dear friend," said he, impetuously, "you must hesitate no
longer; be one of us."

I started at