lligence that the surgeon said to the
officer after feeling Prosper's pulse,--

"Captain, it is impossible to question the man at this moment."

"Very well! Take him away," replied the captain, interrupting the
surgeon, and addressing a corporal who stood behind the prisoner. "You
cursed coward!" he went on, speaking to Prosper in a low voice, "try at
least to walk firmly before these German curs, and save the honor of the
Republic."

This address seemed to wake up Prosper Magnan, who rose and made a few
steps forward; but when the door was opened and he felt the fresh air
and saw the crowd before him, he staggered and his knees gave way under
him.

"This coward of a sawbones deserves a dozen deaths! Get on!" cried the
two soldiers who had him in charge, lending him their arms to support
him.

"There he is!--oh, the villain! the coward! Here he is! There he is!"

These cries seemed to be uttered by a single voice, the tumultuous voice
of the crowd which followed him with insults and swelled at every step.
During the passage from the inn to the prison, the noise made by the
tramping of the crowd and the soldiers, the murmur of the various
colloquies, the sight of the sky, the coolness of the air, the aspect
of Andernach and the shimmering of the waters of the Rhine,--these
impressions came to the soul of the young man vaguely, confusedly,
torpidly, like all the sensations he had felt since his waking. There
were moments, he said, when he thought he was no longer living.

I was then in prison. Enthusiastic, as we all are at twenty years of
age, I wished to defend my country, and I commanded a company of free
lances, which I had organized in the vicinity of Andernach. A few days
before these events I had fallen plump, during the night, into a French
detachment of eight hundred men. We were two hundred at the most. My
scouts had sold me. I was thrown into the prison of Andernach, and they
talked of shooting me, as a warning to intimidate others. The French
talked also of reprisals. My father, however, obtained a reprieve for
three days to give him time to see General Augereau, whom he knew,
and ask for my pardon, which was granted. Thus it happened that I saw
Prosper Magnan when he was brought to the prison. He inspired me with
the profoundest pity. Though pale, distracted, and covered with blood,
his whole countenance had a character of truth and innocence which
struck me forcibly. To me his long fair hair and clea