nadier Rouge;' and away we went accordingly.

"It would amuse you, perhaps," said Maitre Francois, "were I to tell
some of the stories we related to each other at night. We both had
had our share of adventure since we met, and some droll ones among the
number. However, that is not the question at present. We sat late; so
late that they came to close the cafe at last, and we were obliged to
depart. You know the 'Grenadier Rouge,' don't you?"

"Yes, I know it well," replied the major; "it's over the glacis, about a
mile outside the barrier."

"Just so; and there's a pleasant walk across the glacis to the gate. As
Piccotin and I set out together on our way to the town, the night was
calm and mild; a soft moonlight shed a silvery tint over every object,
and left the stately poplars to throw a still longer shadow on the
smooth grass. For some time we walked along without speaking; the
silence of the night, the fragrant air, the mellow light, were all
soft and tranquillizing influences, and we sank each into his own
reflections.

"When we reached the middle of the plain,--you know the spot, I'm sure;
there's a little bronze fountain, with four cedars round it," (the major
nodded, and he resumed),--"Piccotin came to a sudden halt, and seizing
my hand in both of his, said, 'Francois, canst thou guess what I 'm
thinking of?'

"I looked at him, and I looked around me, and after a few seconds' pause
I answered, 'Yes, Piccotin, I know it; it is a lovely spot.'

"'Never was anything like it!' cried he, in a rapture; 'look at the
turf, smooth as velvet, and yet soft to the foot; see the trees, how
they fall back to give the light admittance; and there, that little
fountain, if one felt thirsty, eh! What say you?'

"'Agreed,' said I, grasping him by both hands; 'for this once; once
only, Piccotin.'

"'Only once, Francois; a few passes, and no more.'

"'Just so; the first touch.'

"'Exactly; the first touch,' said he, as, taking off his cloak, and
folding it neatly, he laid it on the grass.

"It was a strange thing, but in all our lives, from earliest boyhood up,
we never had measured swords together; and though we were both maitres
d'armes, we never crossed blades, even in jest. Often and often had our
comrades pitted us against each other, and laid wagers on the result,
but we never would consent to meet; I cannot say why. It was not fear; I
know not how to account for it, but such was the fact.

"'What blade do you we