er-room, where, if
anybody came to search the chateau, they would be sure to look for you.
See, too," she added, "there are further means of hiding yourselves--for
we cannot be too cautious in these sad times. Here is a panel. It
slides on one side, and within you will find a ladder, which leads to a
space between the ceiling and the roof. You might there manage to exist
for some days--not very pleasantly, but securely at all events."

The ceiling was pointed the shape of the roof, and it was difficult to
suppose that there could be space sufficient between the two to admit a
person. Rosalie, however, pulled aside the panel and showed the ladder,
that there might be no mistake. She charged them also not to leave
anything about which might betray them. "If I were to tell you all we
have gone through, you would not be surprised at my caution," she
remarked.

She then inquired about the sailor they hoped would have accompanied
them. Paul told her that he believed Reuben had escaped from the
guards, and was probably still lurking about in the same neighbourhood.

"We will send and try to find him," she answered at once. "Our faithful
old servant will undertake the work. Here, write on a slip of paper
that he is to follow the bearer and do whatever he is told. It is
important to find him before night, as he might otherwise, growing
hungry, come out of his hiding-place in search of food, and be
discovered. I will tell our worthy Jaques to sing out his name as he
drives along, and perhaps that may draw him from his lair. What is it?"

Paul told her. "Oh, that is a very good name to pronounce,--Rubicole!
Rubicole! Jaques can cry out that very well."

So away she went, leaving the midshipmen to their own reflections--
O'Grady more in love than ever. As they had nothing to do, they looked
through the window, and saw the cart which had brought them driving
rapidly away. Rosalie came back soon afterwards with a very nice dinner
on a tray. She said that she alone would attend on them, for though she
could safely trust the people in the house, the fewer who knew that they
were there the better. The chateau, she told them, belonged to her
uncle, a Royalist, a fine old gentleman, who had nearly lost his life in
the Revolution. She had come over that day, as had previously been
arranged, to attend on her uncle, who was ill, and would, therefore, be
unable to see them, but hoped to do so before their departure. Sh