l already. It must be a mistake. Where is your order?"

"Read," said O'Brien, handing her the letter.

She read the letter, and putting it into her neckerchief, desired him to
follow her. O'Brien beckoned me to come, and we went into a small room.
"What can I do for you?" said the woman; "I will do all in my power:
but, alas! you will march from here in two or three days."

"Never mind," replied O'Brien, "we will talk the matter over by-and-by,
but at present only oblige us by letting us remain in this little room;
we do not wish to be seen."

"_Comment done_!--you a conscript, and not wish to be seen! Are you,
then, intending to desert?"

"Answer me one question; you have read that letter, do you intend to act
up to its purport, as your sister requests?"

"As I hope for mercy I will, if I suffer everything. She is a dear
sister, and would not write so earnestly if she had not strong reason.
My house and everything you command are yours--can I say more?"

"But," continued O'Brien, "suppose I did intend to desert, would you
then assist me?"

"At my peril," replied the woman: "have you not assisted my family when
in difficulty?"

"Well, then, I will not at present detain you from your business; I have
heard you called several times. Let us have dinner when convenient, and
we will remain here."

"If I have any knowledge of phiz--_what d'ye call it_," observed
O'Brien, after she left us, "there is honesty in that woman, and I must
trust her, but not yet; we must wait till the conscripts have gone." I
agreed with O'Brien, and we remained talking until an hour afterwards,
when the woman brought us our dinner.

"What is your name?" inquired O'Brien.

"Louise Eustache; you might have read it on the letter."

"Are you married?"

"Oh yes, these six years. My husband is seldom at home; he is a Flushing
pilot. A hard life, harder even than that of a soldier. Who is this
lad?"

"He is my brother, who, if I go as a soldier, intends to volunteer as a
drummer."

"_Pauvre enfant! c'est dommage_."

The cabaret was full of conscripts and other people, so that the hostess
had enough to do. At night, we were shown by her into a small bed-room,
adjoining the room we occupied. "You are quite alone here; the
conscripts are to muster to-morrow, I find, in the _Place d'Armes_, at
two o'clock; do you intend to go?"

"No," replied O'Brien: "they will think that I am behind. It is of no
consequence."

"Well," replied the w