id so, and collecting some pence, then asked him what I
should do. "Go back to the window--you can then judge of what will
happen." I returned to the window:

Colonel O'Brien had disappeared, but Celeste was there, as if waiting
for me. I held out the cap to her, and she thrust her hand into it.
The cap sunk with the weight. I took out a purse, which I kept closed
in my hand, and put it into my bosom. Celeste then retired from the
window, and when she had gone to the back of the room kissed her hand to
me, and went out at the door. I remained stupefied for a moment, but
O'Brien roused me, and we quitted the _Grande Place_, taking up our
quarters at a little cabaret. On examining the purse, I found fifty
Napoleons in it: they must have been obtained from her father.

At the cabaret where we stopped, we were informed that the officer who
was at the hotel had been appointed to the command of the strong fort of
Bergen-op-Zoom, and was proceeding thither.

We walked out of the town early in the morning, after O'Brien had made
purchases of some of the clothes usually worn by the peasantry. When
within a few miles of St. Nicholas, we threw away our stilts and the
clothes which we had on, and dressed ourselves in those O'Brien had
purchased. O'Brien had not forgot to provide us with two large
brown-coloured blankets, which we strapped on to our shoulders, as the
soldiers do their coats.

It was bitter cold weather, and the snow had fallen heavily during the
whole day; but although nearly dusk, there was a bright moon ready for
us. We walked very fast, and soon observed persons ahead of us. "Let
us overtake them, we may obtain some information." As we came up with
them, one of them (they were both lads of seventeen to eighteen) said to
O'Brien, "I thought we were the last, but I was mistaken. How far is it
now to St. Nicholas?"

"How should I know?" replied O'Brien, "I am a stranger in these parts as
well as yourself."

"From what part of France do you come?" demanded the other, his teeth
chattering with the cold, for he was badly clothed, and with little
defence from the inclement weather.

"From Montpelier," replied O'Brien.

"And I from Toulouse. A sad change, comrades from olives and vines to
such a climate as this. Curse the conscription: I intended to have
taken a little wife next year."

O'Brien gave me a push, as if to say, "Here's something that will do,"
and then continued--"And curse the cons