ave_ of Egypt, and the hero of many a battle in
Germany, Poland, and Russia--was a patient of Charenton. A sad and
melancholy figure, wasted and withered like a tree reft by lightning,
the wreck of his former self, he walked slowly to and fro; and though
at times his reason would seem to return free and unclouded, suddenly a
dark curtain would appear to drop over the light of his intellect, and
he would mutter the words, "Silence! silence a la mort!" and speak not
again for several hours after.'

The Vicomte de Berlemont, from whom I heard this sad story, was himself
a member of the court-martial on the occasion. For the rest, I visited
Paris about a fortnight after I heard it, and determining to solve my
doubts on a subject of such interest I paid an early visit to Charenton.
On examining the registry of the institution, I found the name of
'Gustave Guillaume Aubuisson, native of Dijon, aged thirty-two. Admitted
at Charenton the 31st of October, 1813. Incurable.' And on another page
was the single line, 'Aubuisson escaped from Charenton, June 16, 1815.
Supposed to have been seen at Waterloo on the 18th.'

One more fact remains to be mentioned in this sad story. The old tower
still stands, bleak and desolate, on the mountains of the Vesdre; but it
is now uninhabited save by the sheep that seek shelter within its gloomy
walls, and herd in that spacious chimney. There is another change,
too, but so slight as scarcely to be noticed: a little mound of earth,
grass-grown and covered with thistles, marks the spot where 'Lazare the
shepherd' takes his last rest. It is a lone and dreary spot, and the
sighing night-winds as they move over the barren heath seem to utter his
last _consigne_, and his requiem--'Silence! silence a la mort!'

CHAPTER XIX. THE TOP OF A DILIGENCE

'Summa diligentia,' as we used to translate it at school, 'on the top of
the diligence,' I wagged along towards the Rhine. A weary and a lonely
way it is; indeed, I half believe a frontier is ever thus--a kind of
natural barrier to ambition on either side, where both parties stop
short and say, 'Well, there's no temptation there, anyhow!'

Reader, hast ever travelled in the _banquette_ of a diligence? I will
not ask you, fair lady; for how could you ever mount to that Olympus
of trunks, carpet-bags, and hat-boxes; but my whiskered friend with
the cheroot yonder, what says he? Never look angry, man--there was no
offence in my question; better men than