er towards him till he could reach
his ear, and then whispered, "Don't stir, for your life!"

O'Grady pressed his hand to show that he heard. He moved his head back
to the chink. Had he made any noise, the storm would have prevented its
being heard. The gendarme was not yet satisfied. He ran his sword into
every hole and crevice he could find, and attacked several of the
panels. For the first time Paul began to fear that they should be
discovered. As yet he had passed over the moving panel. He began to
grind his teeth in a rage, and to utter numerous "_sacres_" and other
uncouth oaths, and at last made a furious dig close to the panel. His
weapon, however, instead of going through the wood, encountered a mass
of stone, and broke short off. The accident increased his rage, and
produced numerous additional _sacres_, and, which was of more
consequence, made him trudge down-stairs again, convinced that there was
no hole in which even a rat could be concealed. He slammed the door
after him; but Paul, suspecting that this might be a trick, persuaded
O'Grady to remain where they were.

The night passed on, and both midshipmen fell asleep. When they awoke
they saw that daylight was streaming full into the room below them,
though it was dark up in the roof; still they wisely would not stir, for
they felt sure that, as soon as the gendarmes were fairly away, Rosalie
would come to them and bring them their breakfast.

"I hope she may," observed Paddy, "for I am very peckish."

Paul thought that he could not be so very desperately in love.

At last they heard the tramp of horses' hoofs, and about a quarter of an
hour afterwards, though they thought it much longer, Rosalie appeared
with a tray, with coffee, and eggs, and bread, and other substantial
fare. They were down the ladder in a twinkling, and warmly expressing
their thanks. They did not require much pressing to set to; indeed,
O'Grady had begun to cast ravenous glances at the viands alternately,
with affectionate ones towards her, while Paul was translating what he
desired him to say. She looked very pale, and told them that she had
been very anxious, though the gendarmes had come, not to look for them,
but for a political criminal, a royalist of rank, who had been concealed
in the chateau, but had fortunately escaped. About noon she came back
with a very nice old gentleman, a perfect picture of a French man of
rank of the old school--buckles, knee-breeche