lEtKflEY 
 
 LIBRARY 
 
 UM1VIR3ITY OP 
 CALIFORNIA 
 
ALFRED; 
 
 THE ADVENTURES 
 
 A FRENCH GENTLEMAN. 
 
 GEORGE W. M. REYNOLDS, 
 
 AUTHOR OF "PICKWICK ABROAD," &C. 
 
 \ 
 
 JITugtratrtr toitf) tfauxttm g>tetl <£njjrab(njjtf. 
 
 LONDON: 
 WILLOUGHBY & CO., 22, WARWICK LANE. 
 
London : 
 printed by wiixoughby and co, 97, st. john street, smithfield. 
 
ALFRED; 
 
 
 THE ADVENTURES 
 
 OF A 
 
 FRENCH GENTLEMAN. 
 
 BY G. W. M. REYNOLDS, 
 
 Author of" My st tr its of London;' " Robert Macaire in England" "Pickwick Abroad" 8fc. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 THE EMIGRANTS. 
 
 Towards the close of the year 1793, when the horrors of the French 
 Revolution expelled so many noble emigrants from their unhappy 
 country to seek an asylum on the hospitable shores of England, whose 
 sons are ever ready to afford shelter and protection to the political 
 sufferers of other climes, a post-chaise drove up to the door of a 
 hotel in Leicester Square, and a foreigner of commanding aspect, and 
 aristocratic mien, descended the steps of the vehicle, crying involun- 
 tarily, " thank God! we are at length safe in the metropolis of Eng- 
 land"!" He then assisted a lady to alight from the carriage, which she 
 did with difficulty, for in her arms she carried a sleeping babe that had 
 scarcely breathed the air of this world eight or ten months. The 
 landlord received the strangers with obsequious bows, for they were 
 evidently of high rank — if manners and appearance form a criterion to 
 judge of the position of individuals in the wide circle of society — 
 although they merely gave as their names Monsieur and Madame 
 d'Estelle, without any titular appendage. Of one thing, however, they 
 made no secret : too much rejoiced at having escaped the persecutions 
 awaiting them in their own country, the illustrious foreigners did not 
 scruple to confess that they were emigrants from the distracted ter- 
 ritory of France, whose ambitious rulers had changed the principles of 
 a glorious revolution into the hateful tyranny of murderous despots. 
 But they had not left their native clime as beggars on the face of the 
 earth : they were aware that many of their unfortunate fellow-country- 
 men had already put the charitable disposition of the compassionate 
 English to a repeated test ; and they had wisely provided themselves 
 with that which now-a-days has become " the one thing needful." 
 
 M. d'Estelle, and his affectionate wife, who insisted upon sharing 
 the adversity as well as the prosperity of her husband, resided about a 
 week at the hotel in Leicester Square; whence they removed to a 
 comfortable lodging which they hired in the Haymarket. There 
 
 419 
 
^ ALFRED ; OR ADVENTURES 
 
 they lived retired and secluded together, while their child — the greatest 
 source of comfort and of hope to them in their present circumstances 
 — throve apace, increasing in stature and in beauty. Often did the 
 tender mother weep over her infant daughter, whose name was Eloise, 
 and deplore the loss of rank and fortune on account of that innocent 
 creature. She did not regret those deficiencies as their effects regarded 
 herself: tranquillity and peace had always suited her quiet disposi- 
 tion much better than the glittering fashion, the ceremonious balls, and 
 the brilliant salons of the Faubourg Saint Germain in Paris. But she 
 was ambitious because she was a mother; and her bosom heaved with 
 frequent sighs as she glanced around her present lodgings, for she 
 could not help forming a comparison between them and the magnifi- 
 cent hotel she had inhabited in the metropolis of her native France. 
 Alas ! little did she deem, as thus her mind deplored the decay of 
 grandeur and aristocracy, that the trophies of the future glories of her 
 country were to be erected on the basis which appeared to her preju- 
 diced imagination nought but irredeemable ruins ! 
 
 A year passed away in the peaceful retreat of the family of d'Estelle, 
 when a grievous illness threatened to rob the noble exile of his vir- 
 tuous spouse. Madame d'Estelle was naturally of a weak constitution ; 
 and the misfortunes of her family had preyed upon a too sensitive 
 mind to such a degree, that at length the body was affected. Day and 
 night did the heart-broken husband attend at the sick bed of her who 
 had shared all his adversities with heroic fortitude; but vainly did he 
 endeavour to blind himself to the certainty of soon sustaining a terri- 
 ble loss. Every hour appeared to add to the malignity of the slow 
 fever which was consuming the unhappy lady ; and bitter — burning 
 tears, were those that the emigrant shed when his beloved wife snatched 
 a momentary repose. 
 
 The medical gentleman, who attended Madame d'Estelle, was a 
 person no less renowned for his talent than for the excellence of his 
 disposition, and the goodness of his heart. His name was Clayton; 
 his family was ancient and respectable ; and his reputation, as a pro- 
 fessional man, was so firmly established , and on such sound principles, 
 that he enjoyed a practice inferior to that of no surgeon in London. 
 He was united to an amiable woman, whom he tenderly loved; and 
 his marriage had been blessed with a smiling offspring. Two boys 
 claimed his parental care, and engrossed all the time that he could 
 spare from his medical duties. One was about eleven years of age at 
 the period when Mr. Clayton was called m to attend upon Madame 
 d'Estelle; the other was only nine; but both were promising youths, 
 full of vivacity, quickness, and mental energy. William — the elder of 
 the two — was more sedate and studious in his disposition than his 
 brother Henry; the former was the favourite of his father — for all 
 parents are guilty, if such a term be applicable, of these predilections; 
 and the latter was the darling of his mother. 
 
 Mrs. Clayton conceived an extraordinary degree of interest in fa- 
 vour of the emigrants, the moment her husband became acquainted 
 with them ; and, being naturally of a kind disposition, she called upon 
 Madame d'Estelle, and volunteered her services in the sick room. 
 An acquaintance, that was thus commenced under circumstances 
 peculiarly interesting, though sad, scon ripened into a firm friendship; 
 
OF A FRENCH GENTLEMAN. 3 
 
 and the two families associated with each other on terms of perfect 
 intimacy. M. d'Estelle had one secret only unrevealed to Mr. Clayton 
 — and that was his real name and rank; but the worthy surgeon 
 never intruded upon the private thoughts of the noble Frenchman, 
 nor even hinted at the cause of his sorrows. 
 
 Months passed away, and the health of Madame d'Estelle declined 
 daily. At last her sufferings were brought to a termination: the 
 cankering worm of disease had bitten a vital part ; and the hand of 
 death claimed its victim. We will draw a veil over the grief of a 
 bereaved husband — we will not detail the sorrow of his friends — the 
 kind sympathy they offered, nor the consolation it afforded. No pomp, 
 no vain ostentation were displayed at the departed lady's funeral ; the 
 mourners were few, but they were sincere ; the sighs, that were heaved 
 above her tomb, and the tears which were dropped upon the black 
 coffin, were as free from hypocrisy as the mind of an infant is from cor- 
 ruption. 
 
 M. d'Estelle bore his loss with the fortitude of a noble mind, and 
 determined to exert himself in favour of his daughter. He accordingly 
 accepted the kind invitation of Mr. Clayton, and removed to that gen- 
 tleman's house, in order to give his child an opportunity of receiving 
 an almost maternal attention at the hands of Mrs. Clayton, who soon 
 became as fond of the interesting Eloise as of her own children. Her 
 husband noticed this increasing tenderness, and was rather pleased than 
 annoyed at its progress; for his humane disposition taught him to 
 commiserate the helpless little being whom a father could not rear 
 with the same faciliy as a mother or one supplying that mother's 
 place. The two boys vied with each other in endeavours to de- 
 monstrate their affection for the daughter of the emigrant; and Henry 
 in particular entertained an unfeigned attachment towards the gentle 
 Eloise. 
 
 Time rolled onwards — weeks and months passed away; and the 
 mind of d'Estelle gradually became restless. He experienced a secret 
 yearning to revisit the shores of his native country ; he knew that if he 
 could only set foot in the French metropolis, he might realize more than 
 half of his once extensive property, the greater portion having been so 
 laid out as to be immediately tangible by him, and available to no one 
 else. He communicated his desires to Mr. Clayton, who at first com- 
 batted them with success ; but at length a circumstance occurred that 
 fixed the wavering resolutions of the refugee, and rendered him deaf 
 to the friendly remonstrances of the excellent, surgeon. 
 
 One evening, as M. d'Estelle was returning home from a theatre — 
 the first time he had entered any place of public amusement since the 
 death of his still lamented wife — he was accosted by an individual 
 who respectfully saluted him, and called him by his real name. The 
 noble emigrant could not at first recollect the features of the person 
 that thus addressed him ; but a moment's reflection called to his 
 mind the countenance of an old domestic whom he hail been obliged 
 to discharge ere he quitted Paris. A long conversation ensued. The 
 servant had only arrived in London a lew days before the one on 
 which this encounter took place ; and he related in full many of the 
 political changes which had just occurred in France, and of which his 
 late master had only heard imperfect rumours, or had gathered garbled 
 
4 ALFRED; OR ADVENTURES 
 
 accounts from the London journals. At length they separated, but 
 not before M. d'Estelle had given his fellow-countryman a rendez- 
 vous for the next day. 
 
 The noble refugee returned home to the dwelling of his friends ; and 
 in the course of the evening, when pressed to reveal the cause of his 
 thoughtfulness, he declared his intention of undertaking a journey to 
 his own native land, and proposed to start in a day or two, adding that 
 the political changes, which had just taken place at Paris, introduced 
 certain particular friends of his own into offices of some eminence. 
 Mr. Clayton saw that d'Estelle's mind was made up; he therefore 
 refrained from using any remonstrance ; but when the appointed hour 
 came, he saw the daring Frenchman depart with an anxious heart.. 
 
 " You have nothing particular to tell me, my friend?" said he, 
 d'Estelle's hand trembling in his own, as they stood on the steps of 
 the door, at which a carriage was waiting. 
 
 " Oh ! no — nothing — save a thousand thanks for all your kindness," 
 was the reply. " I shall soon return, and then may perhaps have 
 somewhat to unfold. Adieu !" 
 
 And the post-chaise was speedily out of sight. 
 
 Mr. Clayton felt disappointed. He knew that d'Estelle had much 
 to reveal — he was aware that those revelations must also materially 
 affect his daughter's welfare. But in another moment he consoled 
 nimself with the idea that his friend had certainty committed to paper 
 the secrets which he so carefully concealed in his own breast, and 
 which sentiments of false pride prevented him from unfolding even to 
 those who entertained the most lively interest in his fortunes. 
 
 D'Estelle departed — and left his infant child to the care of those in 
 whom he could trust, and who did not betray the confidence he placed 
 in them ; for bad Eloise been the daughter of the worthy people her 
 father had selected as her guardians, she could not have experienced 
 greater kindness, nor have been the object of more sincere attach- 
 ment. Henry, whose years so much exceeded her's, made the in- 
 teresting little being his constant playmate, and doted upon her with 
 more than fraternal love. 
 
 A fortnight after M. d'Estelle's departure, letters were received by 
 his friends in England to announce his safe arrival in the capital of 
 France, and impart the hopes he entertained of securing the large pro- 
 perty which had been the principal cause of his leaving England. He 
 concluded his welcome epistle by desiring Clayton to send him occa- 
 sional news of his daughter, and to address all letters to him under the 
 name of d'Estelle, Poste Restant* Paris. At the expiration of six 
 weeks another despatch from the father of Eloise contained the wel- 
 come intelligence that he had succeeded in obtaining possession of an 
 immense sum of money, and that he should return to England as 
 speedily as possible, the moment certain negotiations of a pacific 
 nature were terminated for him by an influential relative. 
 
 Another month elapsed, and a letter, bearing the foreign post-mark, 
 was again put into Clayton's hands. M. d'Estelle informed his friend 
 that he had been grossly deceived by the political relative to whom 
 he had before alluded, that he was obliged to seek a momentary refuge 
 
 # IjQttera so addressed are to be kppt till called for. 
 
OF A FRENCH GENTLEMAN. 5 
 
 in a mean abode, but that he hoped to be shortly able to effect his 
 escape from the French metropolis, and once more seek the hospitable 
 shores of England. He concluded by stating that he had already des- 
 patched his money to London, so as not to be burdened with a 
 weighty charge on the day of his anticipated flight from a city where 
 continued horrors were being perpetrated around him. 
 
 These were the last tidings that ever Mr. Clayton received of the 
 unfortunate d'Estelle. Weeks — months — years rolled away — and still 
 he returned not to the abode where dwelt his daughter and his friends. 
 Horrible suspicions arose in the surgeon's mind ; he doubted not that 
 the gallant parent had fallen a victim to his rashness ; and as day 
 succeeded day, and no traces of him nor his fate could be discovered, 
 hope was forsaken, and despair usurped its place. 
 
 It was now that the generous and noble dispositions of Mr. Clayton 
 and his amiable wife exemplified themselves in a more striking man- 
 ner than ever. Instead of recollecting or feeling, as many in their 
 situations would have done, that they were encumbered with a child who 
 was not their own, but a stranger's offspring — instead of looking upon 
 the innocent creature in the light of an orphan whom charity obliged 
 them to keep, they treated Eloise with even additional kindness, if 
 possible ; and as she grew up, no expense was spared on her education. 
 Beautiful and accomplished, she became as dear to them as their own 
 children ; and never — never once did her humane guardians suffer her 
 to experience the slightest embarrassment on account of her dependent 
 situation. 
 
 The boyish attachment of Henry to the interesting orphan ripened 
 with years, and increased as they both grew older. At first he looked 
 upon Eloise as a sister — then as a familiar friend — and at last with the 
 downcast eyes and bashful glances of a lover. His parents failed not 
 to notice these gradual and progressive changes; and so far from 
 being vexed at the preference which their younger son manifested in 
 favour of their beautiful ward before the other ladies of his acquaint- 
 ance, they did all they could to encourage a passion which would en- 
 sure a happy lot for Eloise, and put Henry in possession of a wife 
 whose charms and accomplishments rendered her worthy of the highest 
 distinction. 
 
 Henry had embraced his father's profession, and bade fair to create 
 for himself a similar reputation. William had entered into a commer- 
 cial establishment, and was making a rapid fortune by means of happy 
 speculations and unremitting attention to his business, when he was 
 invited to be present at the nuptials of his brother. Eloise was now 
 nineteen years of age. She was beautiful beyond description, pos- 
 sessed a variety of accomplishments, and was sincerely attached to 
 him whose future fortunes were so soon to be linked with her's. At 
 length the auspicious morning dawned — a brilliant cavalcade left 
 the house of Mr. Clayton — and the ceremony was performed at St. 
 James's Church, in Piccadilly, a select number of relatives and friends 
 being alone invited to witness the celebration of the hymeneal rites. 
 
 The year 1812 was an eventful one for the family of Clayton. 
 The marriage of Eloise and Henry was the only happy circumstance 
 which marked it ; all else was sad and sorrowful. Mr. Clayton, en- 
 couraged by the successful speculations of his elder son, embarked a 
 
6 ALFRED; OR ADVENTURES 
 
 considerable portion of his property in the same adventurous commer- 
 cial lottery, and one morning found himself so nearly ruined that the 
 remnants of his once ample fortune scarcely sufficed to cover his en- 
 gagements and liquidate his debts. The property of William was 
 alike involved in ruin; and, to the astonishment of every merchant 
 or banker upon the Exchange, his house, which was considered as 
 secure as aught in this world can be, stopped its payments. These 
 sudden visitations of calamity so affected the mind of Mrs. Clayton, 
 that she sickened, and, after a short illness, resigned her breath in the 
 arms of a distracted husband. Mr. Clayton did not long survive so 
 severe a loss. Deprived of fortune and the partner of his sorrows as 
 well as of his joys, he felt himself an isolated being in the world, and 
 became reckless of life. His naturally gay disposition relapsed into a 
 brooding melancholy and a continued reverie on unpleasant subjects ; 
 and in the autumn of the same year which witnessed the nuptials of 
 Henry and Eloise, and which marked the departure from this world of 
 a virtuous woman, he succumbed to the weight of his misfortunes, and 
 closed his eyes upon the sorrows of earth for ever. 
 
 On his death-bed he related to Eloise all that he knew relative to 
 her parents; he imparted his suspicions concerning her father's fate to 
 the afflicted girl, and placed in her hands the various letters he had 
 received from him when he was at Paris. 
 
 " By their aid," said the dying man, " you may one day discover 
 some traces that will solve this mystery, and help to put you in pos- 
 session of a fortune which evidently was remitted to London and 
 destined for you. When I found that your lamented father did 
 not return, as he promised, and as he repeatedly expressed his 
 intention of shortly doing in his letters, I advertised in the daily 
 journals to request that any banker, agent, or merchant, who might 
 have received money to the account of a M. d"Estelle, would take the 
 trouble of enclosing me his address, that I might communicate with 
 him on an important matter relative to the said M. dEstelle. But no 
 answer was returned to these solicitations ; and every other step that 
 I took to discover your father's fate, and that of his immense property, 
 was equally ineffectual. I sent a trusty agent to Paris to make inquiries 
 relative to those interesting circumstances ; but unfortunately your 
 father was accustomed to act with so much reserve, even towards his 
 best friend— who was myself— that this measure produced no more 
 effectual results than the various others which I adopted. It was my 
 fond hope," concluded the old man with tears in his eyes, " to have 
 been able to leave you and Henry, at my decease, a comfortable addi- 
 tion to your present means; but, alas! unhappy speculations have 
 robbed me of the wealth which I accumulated by the sweat of my brow. 
 Thank God! you do not want— you are not in poverty, if you be not 
 rich ; and you will act kindly to your brother William, should his 
 affairs still continue unprosperous. Farewell, my dear children — may 
 Heaven bless you — farewell !" 
 
 And with these words the tender father and excellent friend breathed 
 his last, leaving behind him hearts that felt too deeply not to deplore 
 his irreparable loss. 
 
OF A FRENCH GENTLEMAN. 7 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 ELOISE AND ALFRED. 
 
 It often happens in this world, that, when Fortune is wearied of tor- 
 menting us, she takes a sudden capricious turn, and lavishes her be 
 nehts upon our heads with the same prolusion in which she lately 
 poured forth the phials of her wrathful spite. At least such was the 
 case with the family of the Claytons. In the year 1813 Eloise pre- 
 sented her husband with a pledge of their mutual affection; and al- 
 though the summit of his ambition was to become the father of a 
 blooming boy, he nevertheless hailed the birth of a daughter with the 
 most unfeigned delight. A trivial dispute arose as to the name of the 
 innocent being; but it terminated in favour of the mother, and the 
 child was accordingly christened Eloise. 
 
 But this was not the only circumstance which filled the hearts of 
 Mr. and Mrs. Henry Clayton with joy. William had collected the 
 wrecks of his ruined fortunes, and, aided by a little additional pecu- 
 niary assistance from his brother, had commenced business once more. 
 For a moment his credit was limited, and his operations necessarily 
 circumscribed, on account of the impression his late failure had made 
 upon the minds of commercial men ; but the known integrity of his 
 character, and the rapid successes he again experienced, speedily wiped 
 away all disagreeable reminiscences, and insured him public esteem 
 and confidence to as great an extent as ever. But his mind had un- 
 dergone a considerable change. His solitary hours were occasionally 
 embittered with sad reflections; he remembered it was at his instiga- 
 tion that his father had embarked in the miserable speculations which 
 had deprived him of fortune, and lessened the remnant of his days. He 
 could not banish from his imagination the death-bed of his affectionate 
 mother, broken-hearted at the calamities that visited her husband 
 when it was too late in life to repair the grievous harm. Such were 
 the frequent reproaches he made himself; and although no sting 
 harassed his conscience, still did he bitterly regret the moment in 
 which, emboldened by his own successes, he induced his parents to 
 hazard their fortunes in the same enterprises. To expel these gloomy 
 ideas, he laboured at his desk with increasing ardour, and not only 
 gained back the vast sums he had formerly lost, but a considerable 
 property in addition. Unlike the gambler, who becomes more daring 
 as his fortune appears more prosperous, William was contented with 
 the treasures he accumulated, and retired from business in a few years 
 to enjoy the repose he well merited after his severe toils. Never 
 having been tempted to change his bachelor's freedom for the silken 
 chains of matrimony, he took up his abode with his brother and sister- 
 in-law. and devoted himself entirely to their society. He gratefully 
 reconected the pecuniary assistance they had afforded him immediately 
 after his father's death, when he had first indulged in a hope of re- 
 establishing his fallen fortunes ; and now that prosperity had so amply 
 crowned his most sanguine wishes, he generously shared the wealth 
 his labours had acquired with those whom he loved, and who felt a 
 sincere interest in his welfare. 
 
8 ALFRED; OR ADVENTURES 
 
 Meantime the little Eloise became the darling of her parents, and 
 gave great promise of inheriting all her mother's beauty, as well as ac- 
 quiring the same accomplishments. But scarcely had she attained her 
 ninth year, when her lather was suddenly cut off in the vigour of man- 
 hood and of life. Nothing could exceed the grief of Mrs. Clayton at 
 this event ; she for many days resigned herself entirely to the deep 
 sorrow that filled her soul, and obstinately refused to listen to conso- 
 lation. At length she recollected that there were many duties for her 
 yet to perform in the world, that a daughter demanded a parental care, 
 and that she must live for the child who called her by the endearing 
 appellation of '* Mother." Long — long, however, did she cherish the 
 image of her departed husband ; years elapsed ere she ceased to weep 
 when his name was mentioned; and never, never could she totally 
 obliterate the relics of woe from her lacerated heart. The wound 
 healed, but the scar remained ; and it would not have required a very 
 severe blow to have opened it anew. 
 
 Mrs. Clayton now reflected more than ever on the words which her 
 father-in-law had uttered on his death-bed. She felt that hitherto she 
 had been guilty of a partial neglect towards the memory of her sire, in 
 never even having wished to see the glorious land to which he be- 
 longed, and which had given birth to heroes whose unrivalled names 
 are eternally recorded on the pages of history. She reproached herself 
 with a culpable indifference towards the country of which her father 
 once was proud, and made up her mind to visit the shores where 
 politeness and refinement existed to so pre-eminent a degree. She 
 communicated her intentions to William, and he instantly resolved 
 upon accompanying her. Their preparations were soon made ; their 
 adieus to England cost them but few tears ; and ten days had scarcely 
 expired, ere they were settled in Paris. 
 
 The change between the two cities — the sombre pomp of London, 
 and the brilliant splendour of the French capital — the gloom of the 
 one, and the gaiety of the other — the dulness of the former, and the 
 endless amusements of the latter — contributed much to dispel the me- 
 lancholy ideas of the young widow, and to occupy her thoughts. Mr. 
 Clayton had provided himself with letters of introduction to many 
 distinguished families in Paris ; and a week had barely elapsed after 
 their arrival, before their drawing-room table was covered with cards 
 of invitation, from the ancient peer in the Faubourg St. Germain, as 
 well as from the rich banker of the Chaussee d'Antin. But they 
 mingled little in the brilliant society whose doors were thus thrown 
 open to receive them : the memory of her deceased husband, and the 
 education of Eloise, prevented Mrs. Clayton from enjoying those plea- 
 sures which otherwise would have had charms for a still young and 
 handsome woman ; and William was never fond of the tumultuous 
 delights of the assemblies of fashion. 
 
 Eloise grew up, in virtue and loveliness, from the interesting child 
 to the amiable girl, and naturally became the pride of her affectionate 
 mother, who was not jealous when she saw her own charms eclipsed 
 by the angelic beauties of her daughter. Eloise was tall and admirably 
 iormed, yet with more the figure of a Hebe than a Sylph. Her bust 
 might have furnished the model for the Venus of Medicis, had she and 
 the sculpior lived id he same age. The mildness of her dark blue 
 
OF A FRENCH GENTLEMAN. 9 
 
 eyes betokened an innocence of soul that alone belongs to virgin 
 modesty ; and when those beauteous orbs were irradiated with the 
 enthusiasm which music creates in the mind of its votaries, or by a 
 momentary anger — 
 
 *' for e'en in the tranquillest climes 
 
 Soft breezes will ruffle the blossoms sometimes — 
 
 still were their glances replete with chastity and bashfulness struggling 
 against feeling. Her hair was black ; and she usually wore it in luxu- 
 riant ringlets, which partially concealed a face where the vermilion 
 of youth and health was so exquisitely blended with the pale white, 
 that the shade of the one seemed lost in the other as objects that 
 diminish and gradually disappear in distance. Her brow — on which 
 no anxiety yet sate, and which had never blushed for aught ap- 
 proaching the slightest dereliction from moral rectitude — was fair and 
 high ; and above it were parted the dark locks that fell in profusion 
 on a white neck, thus forming an agreeable contrast. Her nose 
 was perfectly straight ; her mouth was small ; but the lips were 
 pouting and red — and when a smile played upon them, they revealed 
 a set of teeth that might have brought the whitest ivory to shame. 
 And on her countenance was an expression of such sweet simplicity, 
 that no libertine, however emboldened by his successes in amatory 
 warfare, could have ventured to gaze rudely on Eloise : there was 
 that halo of chastity and innocence around her, which made those 
 who beheld her scarcely ever dare to think of love, but to regard 
 her in admiration mingled with respect. She was like the delicate 
 bud that the ravaging hand of the gardener, who has remorse- 
 lessly gathered common flowers, does not venture to pluck. Frail 
 and weak as woman is, innocence with her was strength — modesty 
 was a protecting shield — the chaste glance of her down-cast eye was a 
 sword to disarm the attacks of the most adventurous. No one, how- 
 ever brutal his disposition, could have injured that fair creature ; but 
 thousands would have been ready and proud to protect her. So un- 
 assuming was she in her manners, so amiable in her disposition, and 
 so unsophisticated in her ideas, that the breath of calumny could 
 not reach her, had there been found one malignant tongue to utter a 
 derogatory syllable against her honour. The old, who are generally 
 bitter in their remarks upon youthful beauty, dared not, nor even 
 wished, to couple her name with scandal ; the bare mention of a word 
 calculated to injure her fair fame would have proclaimed itself a lie. 
 
 Such was Eloise at the age of sixteen, when a youth, whose name 
 was Alfred de Hosann, became acquainted with the family. At first 
 sight he was struck with her beauty ; her accomplishments and spot- 
 less character achieved the rest. In a very short time he was deeply 
 enamoured of Miss Clayton, and he hoped that he was not entirely 
 indifferent to her in whom he had centred his entire affections. The 
 mother and uncle — ever watchful over the welfare and interests of the 
 young maiden — were far from displeased with the attentions which 
 the youth demonstrated towards their fair charge ; as Alfred was to 
 all appearance an eligible suitor for her hand. 
 
 Alfred De Rosann was the only son of a rich merchant, who, dying 
 at an advanced age, left him a handsome fortune, with strict injunction! 
 2 
 
10 ALFRED J OR ADVENTURES 
 
 to carry on the business that had acquired it. This command, which 
 was almost made a condition of his inheritance to the entire pi perty 
 in his father's will, did not suit the tastes nor the ambition of De 
 Rosann. He burned to distinguish himself in the military profession ; 
 he had read with enthusiasm the history of Napoleon and his Mar- 
 shals ; he dreamt and thought of nothing but battles and sanguinary 
 conflicts. But there was now no field open to the enthusiastic young 
 man ; and a sense of duty moreover compelled him to renounce all 
 ideas of entering into the army. He deplored, while he obeyed the 
 dying mandates of his departed sire, and strove to forget his visionary 
 glories and imagined laurels in the bustle of a counting-house. 
 
 For some time he applied himself with diligence to his affairs ; and 
 his business appeared to prosper. But distaste for the drudgery of an 
 office soon made him less attentive ; he allowed himself frequent holi- 
 days, entrusted the management of his house into bad hands, and 
 gradually neglected it more and more, till at last the very sight of a 
 ledger made him turn away in unfeigned disgust. 
 
 One morning an old friend of the late merchant called upon De 
 Rosann, and solicited his attention for a few moments. The youth 
 listened with respect, and his visitor spoke as follows : — 
 
 " My dear Alfred, it is with pain and affliction that I see the ruin- 
 ous state of your affairs. There is not a merchant on the Bourse * of 
 a day, who does not shake his head and shrug up his shoulders when 
 the name of your establishment is mentioned. Your endorsement to 
 a bill does not give it the slightest additional value ; your credit is 
 suffering hourly. For God's sake, before it be too late, investigate 
 your affairs ; discharge those idle clerKs who neglect your business, 
 and rob you at the same time ; and place some person, in whom you 
 can depend, at the head of your business. Great as is the evil your 
 culpable indifference has already caused, there still remains a remedy ; 
 for it is impossible that in the space of six months your fortune can 
 be irretrievably compromised. You know I do not speak from inter- 
 ested motives ; my friendship for your late revered father alone 
 dictates the sentiments I utter : but to prove to you that I have no 
 ulterior object, I shall now retire, and endeavour to avoid meeting you 
 until I hear that you have followed my advice, when I shall be the 
 first to come forward and congratulate the son of him for whom I en- 
 tertained the greatest res ect." 
 
 With these words the generous old man hastily arose from the 
 chair on which he was seated, and left the room before De Rosann 
 could find a syllable to utter in reply, so deep an impression had the 
 above severe truths made upon his mind. But when he had recalled 
 his scattered ideas, he inwardly thanked the friend who had given him 
 such excellent advice ; and he determined not to lose an instant before 
 he followed it. 
 
 In the midst of his ruminations he recollected that a merchant, of 
 the name of LaMotte, had a few weeks before made overtures of part- 
 nership to him ; and he immediately conceived the idea of requesting 
 this individual, whom he had always heard spoken of as an upright 
 and trust-worthy man, to assist him in the examination of the state 
 
 * The Exchange-. 
 
OF A FRENCH GENTLEMAN. \\ 
 
 »f h' affairs. "Should the result be satisfactory," said Alfred to 
 himself, " we will then discourse on the possibility of an associa- 
 tion together. Our two establishments blended into one, and 
 conducted by La Motte as the managing partner, cannot fail of ex- 
 periencing a signal success ; and in so doing, I shall not only fulfil the 
 wishes of my father, but shall consult my own tastes at the same 
 time. La Motte has the reputation of an honest merchant; he is not 
 rich — but he is persevering — and that is the essential point." 
 
 Pleased with his idea, he instantly put the scheme into execution ; 
 and M. La Motte acceded to our hero's request, after having started 
 a few obstacles, that were easily overruled. The examination com- 
 menced forthwith : La Motte was not a man to neglect an affair which 
 he saw would eventually turn to his own advantage ; and he shortly 
 completed a most minute scrutiny into all the books and accounts 
 that had been kept since the demise of De Rosann's father. The result 
 was not very creditable to the individuals who had been left to con- 
 duct the affairs while Alfred diverted himself elsewhere. Dreadful 
 mismanagement had considerably involved the credit of the house, 
 and had occasioned immense losses. But as the old man, who offered 
 De Rosann the seasonable advice which was the origin of the present 
 investigation, had prophesied, it was not too late to remedy the evils 
 caused by neglect and indifference. Alfred gave La Motte a carte 
 blanche to act as he chose ; and the first step which that gentleman 
 took towards ameliorating the condition of the business was to dis- 
 charge all the old clerks, and put others in their places. 
 
 A month was sufficient to demonstrate the efficacy of this step : 
 the new administration worked miracles in favour of De Rosann ; the 
 receipts of the house nearly doubled ; its connexions were extended ; 
 new correspondents transmitted their orders from all quarters ; and 
 the credit of the establishment was saved. Alfred did not fail to ex- 
 press his entire satisfaction at these prosperous reforms, and M. La 
 Motte again talked of the mutual advantages to be derived from a 
 partnership, while De Rosann listened with attention. The result of 
 their deliberations was, that in a few days the necessary documents 
 were drawn up, signed, and published in the Gazette des Tribunaux 
 and the Petites Affiches* 
 
 It was about this time that De Rosann became acquainted with Miss 
 Clayton. The match, as we before said, appeared eligible in every 
 point of view ; and when a modest avowal " that the addresses of 
 Alfred were not displeasing to her" was wrung from the blushing 
 Eloise, the consent of the mother and uncle was speedily obtained. 
 De Rosann was now the happiest of human beings : he was the chief 
 partner in a substantial business— had no trouble in directing the 
 affairs of the establishment — drew cheques upon his own cashier 
 whenever he required money — and was engaged to the most beautiful 
 girl that had ever been seen in the fashionable circles of the French 
 metropolis. His friends felicitated him upon his success — the old 
 gentleman, who gave him good advice on a former occasion, applauded 
 him for the readiness he exemplified in following it — and La Motte 
 
 All partnerships, formed in France, must be advertised m these two journals,. 
 ac™rding to the law. 
 
12 ALFRED; OR ADVENTURES 
 
 daily furnished him with favourable reports relative 10 the prosperity 
 of their commercial enterprises. But all the congratulations of fawn- 
 ing acquaintances — the praises of the good — the success of his specu- 
 lations — and the flattery of his associates — all these were as nothing 
 in his estimation, when compared with a single smile on the coun- 
 tenance of his Eloise, or one tender glance from her dark blue eyes. 
 
 One afternoon, as De Rosann was completing his toilet, having been 
 occupied with letters of importance that had detained him at home the 
 whole morning, he was surprised by a visit from La Motte, who 
 seldom or never left his office before the hour at which he was accus- 
 tomed to proceed to the Bourse. Alfred received the man of business 
 with his usual cordiality, and requested him to be seated. 
 
 '* I hope this intrusion does not particularly disturb you, my young 
 friend," said La Motte, throwing himself into a large easy chair, and 
 wiping the perspiration from his face. 
 
 " Oh ! no — certainly not," replied De Rosann, at the same time 
 manifesting a slight degree of impatience, for it was the exact hour at 
 which he invariably paid his respects to Eloise. 
 
 " I will not detain you long," cried M. La Motte, noticing his 
 partner's embarrassment. "The fact is," he continued, "I cannot 
 leave the office to-day — there will be little doing at the Bourse — and 
 I wished you to do me a service when you return home this evening." 
 
 " With the greatest pleasure," answered our hero ; " that is, if it be 
 in my power." 
 
 " Oh ! 'tis not only in your power, but in the way of business," 
 answered La Motte with a chuckle. " I must first inform you," pro- 
 ceeded the merchant in a sort of whisper, although he and De Rosann 
 were alone, " that our worthy correspondents, Delisle, Guerin, and 
 Company, have authorized us to make an immense purchase for them 
 — they are the first house at Marseilles, you recollect — and to accept 
 bills by procuration, as payment. Here is their letter," added La 
 Motte, fumbling in his pocket: then in a moment he cried, " Ah ! I 
 remember — I left it on my desk ; but you can see it presently." 
 
 " It is not necessary," exclaimed de Rosann, whose impatience 
 increased : " you know I do not often interfere in the affairs of the 
 house — and that I have the utmost confidence — as, indeed, I ought to 
 have — in your management." 
 
 " My sole endeavour is to merit your esteem and approbation," said 
 La Motte, in a modest tone of voice: " but I see you are in a hurry 
 to visit your intended — eh! eh!— and I will not detain you another 
 minute. All I wish is, that you would purchase stamps for bills of 
 exchange to the amount of three hundred thousand francs, as you 
 return home, and that this evening you would devote an hour to assist 
 me in drawing them up." 
 
 " Cannot you send a clerk ? I might forget it." 
 
 " See what it is to have a young head !" cried La Motte. " Do 
 you know, my dear friend, that if our clerks had an idea that we pur- 
 chased stamps to such an amount, they would instantly imagine we 
 were about to issue our own paper, and that our house was in a state 
 of insolvency." 
 
 u Your remark is just— and I will do as you desire me," said De 
 Rosann, somewhat ashamed at his blindness in not having before 
 
OF A FRENCH GENTLEMAN. 13 
 
 noticed so valid an objection to his proposal. " But perhaps you 
 will dine with me, tete-a-tete, this evening, and we can then discuss 
 matters of business more at our ease ?" 
 
 " I shall have the greatest pleasure," returned La Motte, his coun- 
 tenance displaying a satisfaction at the invitation which he could not 
 repress. 
 
 " Adieu, then, till six o'clock," cried De Rosann, putting on his hat 
 and gloves, and making a movement towards the door. 
 
 11 Au revoir /" said La Motte ; and they separated for the present, 
 the one to seek his intended bride, and the other to chuckle over a 
 deeply -laid scheme of villany in his counting-house. 
 
 De Rosann was always happy in the society of the charming Eloise. 
 Every day developed some new accomplishment, — some fresh trait of 
 amiability on the part of her he loved ; and instead of experiencing 
 an insipid sameness in her manners or her conversation, he invariably 
 returned home, after an interview, more delighted than ever at the 
 choice he had made, and more passionately fond of a being whose soul 
 was composed of innocence, chastity, and affection. 
 
 On her side, Eloise by no means regretted the day on which she 
 first listened to the ardently pleaded suit of her future husband. His 
 form was graceful — his countenance was handsome — and his manners 
 had that peculiar fascination which characterizes the Frenchman more 
 particularly than the citizen of any other nation. It was not asto- 
 nishing, then, that the tender pair found pleasure in each other's 
 company, and that they preferred the bliss of one hour's conversation 
 together before all the gay concerts, balls, and amusements in which 
 the gay capital so profusely abounded. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 THE BILLS OF EXCHANGE. 
 
 At six o'clock M. La Motte arrived, and dinner was immediately 
 served up. Had Ude himself superintended the culinary arrange- 
 ments of the repast — had the Trois Freres Proven^aux in the Palais 
 Royal supplied the wine — and had Chevet arranged the order of the 
 courses, and laid out the dessert, they could not have succeeded 
 better, nor have exemplified more exquisite taste than the domestics 
 of De Rosann on this occasion. La Motte, who was somewhat 
 addicted to gluttony, was in raptures at every consecutive dish; he 
 praised the wines, and not only drank deeply himself, but also forced 
 De Rosann to follow his example by proposing a variety of toasts in 
 imitation of the English fashion. Alfred was flattered by the enco- 
 mia which La Motte did not fail to lavish upon the beauty and 
 accomplishments of Eloise ; and he fancied within himself that his 
 partner had never appeared to such advantage, nor seemed half so 
 agreeable before. 
 
 " This champagne is Moett's best," said La Motte, holding up a 
 glass of the sparkling nectar towards the wax-candle that burned on 
 his side of the table : " and 'tis excellent. Such ambrosia alone is 
 worthy of being drank to the health of Eloise Clayton." 
 
14 ALFRED; OR ADVENTURES 
 
 " Eloise Clayton's health !" echoed De Rosann ; and they both 
 emptied their glasses at the same time. 
 
 " You do well, my dear friend," continued La Motte after a brief 
 pause, during which his lips savoured with a peculiar satisfaction the 
 taste of the wine he had just drank, " you do well to think seriously 
 of settling for life in an honourable, comfortable — and, indeed, envi- 
 able manner. One becomes wearied of the petites maitr esses of the 
 Chaussee d'Antin, and of the grisettes in the Rue Chariot, or the 
 Boulevard du Temple. The former affect a passion which is nothing 
 more than an evanescent caprice ; and the latter ruin their lovers in 
 dinners at the Cadran Bleu, hi cachemires, and in tickets for the 
 theatres." 
 
 " And they both wind up their follies or their extravagancies by 
 jilting you for the next handsome young man, whose beauty or whose 
 wealth tempts their passions or their avarice," said De Rosann. 
 
 " You see those vanities in the same light as myself," rejoined La 
 Motte. " A virtuous woman, capable of inspiring and cherishing the 
 affection of a young man, is as infinitely superior to the libertine 
 mistress as gold is to dross, or diamonds to pebbles." 
 
 " That sentiment deserves a bumper," cried De Rosann, invariably 
 applying to himself or to his situation with regard to Eloise, the 
 moral inferences and aphorisms of his companion. 
 
 The bumper was accordingly poured out and drank. 
 
 " By the bye, did you think of the stamps, Alfred V enquired La 
 Motte, after a pause ; and, without waiting for a reply, he continued, 
 ;' because we must observe the greatest regularity in our affairs ; and 
 the present transaction will not only create a jealousy in two or three 
 rival houses, but will also considerably increase the credit that we 
 already enjoy — " 
 
 " And that you established, my dear friend," added De Rosann, 
 with a grateful recollection of the manner in which La Motte had 
 saved and built up the falling fortunes of his establishment, when it 
 so nearly succumbed to neglect and mismanagement. 
 
 " I was certain that the union of our respective houses would pro- 
 duce the most advantageous results," exclaimed La Motte, delighted 
 at the disposition in which the conversation and their repeated appli- 
 cations to the bottle, had put the unsuspecting youth. " But, apropos 
 — you did not forget the stamps ?" 
 
 " No — they are in my portfolio," was the answer. 
 
 " Because," continued La Motte, " the favourable terms on which 
 we stand with Delisle, Guerin, and Company, must not be changed 
 into coldness by any neglect on our parts. They are our most con- 
 siderable and important correspondents ; and their transactions with 
 us are alone worth a handsome income." 
 
 " Their orders have come very opportunely, then," said De Rosann ; 
 *' for I have many purchases to make in preparation of my approach- 
 ing marriage ; and a little ready money is absolutely necessary, you 
 know, on such occasions." 
 
 *' Thank God, the cashier is not without ammunition," cried La 
 Motte; "and so long as we do business with such extensive mercan- 
 tile houses as that of Delisle, we need never fear of being in difficulties. 
 
OF A FRENCH GENT1EMAN. 15 
 
 On the contrary, our affairs are as flourishing as they well can be. — 
 Wliat say you to a glass of champagne in honour of Messieurs Delisle, 
 Guerin, and Company, of Marseilles?" 
 
 And this toast was drank with the same enthusiasm as the others. 
 
 " For many reasons, my dear Alfred," said La Motle, determined 
 not to let the conversation languish, as it is only in much talking that 
 we find an excuse for much drinking, " you do well to decide upon 
 matrimony. The head of a vast mercantile establishment should be a 
 married man ; the steadiness of a bachelor is likely to be suspected ; 
 and there are a great many people who confound moral with com- 
 mercial irregularities, and think that it is impossible for a gay young 
 fellow to pay much attention to business. You therefore do right, I 
 again repeat, to entertain serious ideas of matrimony." 
 
 " You know that all is nearly settled," hiccupped De Rosann, whose 
 head began to turn with the effects of the frequent potations he had 
 somewhat too liberally indulged — or been induced to indulge in ; for 
 his ordinary habits were sobriety and temperance. 
 
 " Ha <^a ! and the wedding-day — is it fixed ?" enquired La Motte, 
 attentively observing his companion's countenance, which was flushed 
 and heated. 
 
 " Not yet," was the reply. " But I begin to think we have had 
 enough wine. Let us retire to the salon, and take our coffee ; after 
 which we shall be fit for business." 
 
 La Motte could scarcely suppress a smile when he heard De Rosann 
 talking about " his fitness for business ;" particularly as the youth could 
 scarcely stand upon his legs, his head being giddy, and the objects 
 that encountered his eyes appearing to whirl round. 
 
 Arrived in the drawing-room, coffee was served up on one table, 
 and La Motte desired the domestic to place writing materials upon 
 another. He then told the man that he and his fellow-servants mi-ht 
 retire to their respective beds, as himself and their master intended to 
 look over some accounts, and therefore would not require their ser- 
 vices any farther that night. The domestic cast an incredulous glance 
 upon De Rosann ere he withdrew, persuaded in his own mind that the 
 two gentlemen intended to celebrate a bacchanalian orgie rather than 
 trouble their heads about figures and bills. " And being ashamed that 
 I should guess what they mean to do," said he to himself, " they think 
 to blind me with a paltry excuse. To-morrow morning I shall find 
 the pens, ink, and paper untouched." Thus is it that our servants and 
 dependants are invariably the greatest spies as well as the most severe 
 critics on our actions ; and in the hour of misfortune they are unex- 
 ceptionably our most malignant enemies. 
 
 Instead of dispelling the fumes of wine from De Rosann's brain, 
 the cafi noir only served to increase the fever of his blood; and a 
 glass of liqueur achieved that which the wine had begun, and which 
 the coffee considerably assisted. De Rosann was in a complete state 
 of ebriety ; but not so far advanced as to be unable to write, although 
 with a trembling and unsteady hand. 
 
 The blank stamps were produced, and La Motte made a pretence of 
 filling up the first; but he threw down the pen before he completed 
 a single word, saying, " Ah ! De Rosann, your champagne has rendered 
 me unfit for business; and these bills — which ought to be ready by 
 
16 ALFRED; OR ADVENTURES 
 
 eight o'clock to-morrow morning ! Here is work enough for at least 
 three hours; and I am unable to share in the labour. What is to be 
 done ?" 
 
 "How capital!" exclaimed De Rosann; "the wine has overtaken 
 you, La Motte, at last — you who boasted at dinner that nothing could 
 affect your brain — you who offered to drink glass for glass with any 
 man for a wager — ha ! ha! ha !" 
 
 And Alfred, affecting sobriety — a circumstance so common to a 
 person under the influence of liquor — seized the pen, placed the 
 stamps before him, and began writing to his companion's dictation, with 
 a courage that would have deceived an eye-witness as to his real state. 
 La Motte furnished him with a verbal description for the first bill — 
 and then sate by to encourage him in his task. Often and often did 
 De Rosann nod over the paper, and find himself aroused by the voice 
 of his partner, who occasionally supplied him with a glass of lemonade 
 or sugar-and -water to refresh his parched tongue. Two or three times 
 the unsuspicious youth laid down the pen, declaring his inability to 
 proceed, and the need in which he stood of repose ; but La Motte en- 
 couraged him with such exclamations as, " Why, my dear fellow, 
 you are not beaten yet ! Recollect that our punctuality and exactitude 
 in business are at stake ; remember that every word you write creates 
 fresh revenues for yourself and your future wife ; and do not give up, 
 now that you have done so much." 
 
 A drunken man is easily persuaded ; and De Rosann continued his 
 labours. Bill after bill was fabricated, each drawn upon Messieurs 
 Delisle, Guerin, and Company, of Marseilles, and accepted by De 
 Rosann for them, according to the procuration which La Motte de- 
 clared to have received from that firm. The grey dawn of morning 
 found him still at his labours, and La Motte still by his side. At 
 length the task was completed — De Rosann rose from the chair on 
 which he had sate for hours, and hurried to his bed, where a deep 
 sleep soon overtook him. La Motte retired as silently as he was able, 
 and regained his own dwelling with a fiendish satisfaction pictured on 
 his countenance. 
 
 There is in Paris a discounter for almost every respective trade or 
 profession. The same money-broker, who negotiates the bills of 
 general merchants, will not look at paper bearing the name of a book- 
 seller or a goldsmith; and he that cashes the acceptances of the latter, 
 does not trouble himself with the affairs of the former. The usurers 
 and bankers only, with very few exceptions, undertake general dis- 
 counts; thus the grocer, the baker, the printer, the tailor, &c, have 
 each his separate man of business for all bill transactions. But the 
 proprietors of great mercantile establishments do not give themselves 
 the trouble to go or send to the office of the broker ; they are waited 
 upon by their discounters every morning at an early hour. It was 
 therefore with the greatest facility that La Motte obtained cash for the 
 bills of exchange fabricated by De Rosann at his instigation; and as he 
 was cautious enough to discount them in separate sums with at least 
 half a dozen agents, the large amount did not excite the slightest sus- 
 picion. 
 
 At a late hour De Rosann awoke with a sick head-ache. He had 
 but a faint impression of the transactions of the preceding evening ; 
 

 
 
 
 -j^. 
 
 'Mm li 
 
 1 J 
 
 
 ' 9 ^Wf^P 
 
 /Z7l . // S A^ 
 
 •^y ( £S^ a? (Ocva/a,n<2^? 
 
OF A FRENCH GENTLEMAN. 17 
 
 he remembered that lie had drawn up a quantity of bills, to assist his 
 partner as he had promised during the day, and he rose with the im- 
 pression that La Motte had written at least the half of them. He did 
 not however experience the slightest uneasiness — not a suspicion en- 
 tered his mind — he knew that it was common to accept promissory 
 notes by procuration for a correspondent —and he placed implicit re- 
 liance on the. integrity of La Motte. 
 
 On the following morning, while De Rosann was still in bed, having 
 scarcely yet recovered from the debauchery which he sincerely re- 
 gretted* being, as we before said, of temperate habits, a knock at his 
 bed -room door aroused him from a reverie wherein Eloise was the 
 chief actress, and La Motte entered the chamber. 
 
 " 1 am come," said that individual, when the usual salutations had 
 passed, 4< to inform you that pressing business obliges me to under- 
 take a journey to Rotterdam; and that I must start this very day. I 
 have given the head clerk orders to transact the affairs of the house, as 
 if I were there ; so you need not trouble yourself about them any more 
 than you usually have done. In a fortnight I shall be here again." 
 
 " Try and keep your promise, my dear friend," exclaimed De Ro- 
 sann; " for I shall be anxious during your absence." 
 
 tk Calm yourself on that head, Alfred ; all will go on well — and it is 
 for. the interests of the establishment that I quit Paris." 
 
 •'I wish you a prosperous journey ; and at your return I hope to 
 be able to name the wedding-day," said Alfred. 
 
 " Nothing will give me greater joy than to witness your nuptials," 
 returned La Motte. " In the meantime, farewell." 
 
 And with these words the villain departed, leaving his unconscious 
 victim to bear the brunt of all the disasters that might ensue from the 
 nefarious deeds soon to be brought to light. 
 
 For some time La Motte had foreseen the certainty of the failure of 
 their establishment ; and when the crisis was nearly at hand, but before 
 any one suspected the tottering situation of the firm, he resolved 
 by a bold and desperate stroke to secure to himself a handsome for- 
 tune, which it was his intention to enjoy in a foreign land. He there- 
 fore turned to his own advantage the credulous and confiding ignorance 
 of De Rosann in commercial matters ; and he so arranged his damnable 
 scheme, that had one of the discounters suspected the validity of the 
 lulls, or from any circumstance been aware that they were forgeries, 
 he had an excellent excuse at hand ; — " It was my partner who drew 
 them up — my partner placed them in my portfolio to be discounted — 
 my partner received the procuration — it is his hand-writing — I 
 am innocent of any foul proceedings in the affair." Such would 
 have been his apology; but the matter passed off without a com- 
 ment on the part of the money-brokers ; and La Motte's scheme 
 succeeded to the utmost of his wishes. Had his affairs always con- 
 tinued in a flourishing condition, perhaps he would have remained an 
 honest member of society. Many are driven by circumstances only 
 to commit crime ; while others are born with a natural predilection to 
 evil. It is not well for a virtuous man to be too proud of his ab- 
 stinence from moral delinquency, unless he can reply in the affirmative 
 to the question " Whether he has ever been thrown in the way of 
 teixiptation, so as to have had an opportunity of resisting it?" 
 3 
 
18 ALFRED; OR ADVENTURES 
 
 A few days after the departure of La Motte, De Rosann received the 
 following letter, bearing the English post-mark, and dated from Dover: — 
 
 " Mv dear De Rosann, 
 
 " Now that I am safe and beyond the reach of danger, 
 I feel it my duty to caution you as to the real state of our affairs. The 
 house must stop payment in less than a fortnight ; nothing can avert 
 the blow. I am sorry for you — but I did all I could to prevent it. 
 And now, for God's sake ! take my advice, and leave the country. I 
 need scarcely tell you that the bills drawn on Delisle, Guerin, and 
 Company, are forgeries; and that no procuration of their's ever 
 authorized such a proceeding. Leave, then, before the fraud be de- 
 tected — and hasten into the Dutch provinces as speedily as you can. 
 My advice is perfectly disinterested, as you must see; I only make 
 you aware of your real situation, as your ignorance of it can benefit 
 me no longer, and as I do not wish to see you involved in difficulties 
 which you may avoid. 
 
 " Ever your's, sincerely, 
 
 "LA MOTTE. 
 
 " September 7, 1829." 
 
 Nothing could exceed the mingled sensations of horror and indigna- 
 tion that filled the breast of De Rosann when he perused this letter. 
 
 "The villain— the reprobate!" he cried, crushing the fatal epistle 
 in his hands : " and has he thus dared not only to deceive me, but 
 also to involve me in a crime — a treachery, the consequences of which 
 may be terrible in the extreme ? He is sorry for me— the wretch ! — 
 for me whom he has basely — cruelly deceived ! Oh ! how blind — how- 
 short-sighted was I not to suspect some duplicity at the bottom of so 
 much precaution ! To make me purchase the stamps — to request my 
 aid in drawing up the bills — to withhold the pretended procuration — 
 and to flatter me with his shallow speeches, his moralizing apho- 
 risms, and his toasts ! And this is the man who begs me to recollect 
 that his advice is perfectly disinterested! The paltry scoundrel ! 
 But the laws of my country are just and merciful — they cannot find 
 me guilty of so heinous a crime : I will throw myself upon my knees 
 before my judge, I will explain all — and this letter will help out my 
 testimony, and speak as evidence in my favour !" 
 
 Having thus partly given vent to his indignation in useless invec- 
 tives against the author of his miseries, he was about to proceed to 
 the Commissary of Police of the quarter of the i city in which he 
 resided, and make a full statement of the whole transaction, when a 
 violent knock at the door of his outward apartment made him hesitate 
 a moment ere he put his design into execution. He fondly hoped that 
 the visitor might be Mr. Clayton, to whom he would explain his exact 
 position, and solicit advice. But his wishes were not destined to be 
 gratified in this instance. The clanking of swords, and the heavy 
 tread of boots in the passage, made his blood run cold within him ; 
 and when he saw the Gendarmes enter his room, he fell upon the floor, 
 forgetful of his innocence — overcome by the horrors of his situation, 
 and crying, " Mercy ! Mercy!" 
 
 But the functionaries of the law had no power to spare nor to con- 
 demn; they were merely charged to secure his person, and le*:l him 
 
V**i 
 
 -. -/'^ (2 
 
OF A FREKCH GENTLEMAN. If) 
 
 before a high authority, whose duty it was to investigate the grounds 
 of the accusation brought against the prisoner, and either commit 
 him to a gaol, or restore him to liberty, according to the importance 
 to be attached to first appearances. 
 
 Arrived at the office of the Commissary of Police, the Gendarmes 
 introduced De Rosann to the private cabinet in which the magistrate 
 was seated. A long and painful investigation then commenced. I)e 
 Rosann endeavoured to recall his scattered ideas ; but his replies were 
 frequently so vague and contradictory, his looks so wild, and his 
 countenance so distorted with terror, that ere half the examination 
 was concluded, the Commissary was almost convinced in his own 
 mind that the accused was guilty of the crime — and that crime was 
 Forgery ! The unguarded exclamations he had uttered at the moment 
 of his capture, the useless supplications he had made to the Gen- 
 darmes to suffer him to proceed alone to the Commissary's office, to 
 trust to his honour, and not to ruin his character by an exposure— all 
 these circumstances appeared sadly to the unfortunate youth's disad- 
 vantage ; and when coupled with the damning fact that the bills were 
 in his own hand-writing, they seemed to combine an overwhelming 
 evidence against him. He was accordingly consigned to the safe- 
 guard of a prison, while the Commissary forwarded the jproce s-verbal, 
 or indictment, to the Procureur du Roi. 
 
 We shall not dwell at any considerable length on this sad portion of 
 our tale : we shall draw a veil over the sorrows of Eloise, and the 
 afflictions which De Rosann was doomed to experience. One thing 
 we must however mention : the moment it was generally rumoured 
 that the unhappy young man was certain to be found guilty and to be 
 condemned to a very severe punishment, Mrs. Clayton deemed it her 
 duty — a severe one, which maternal prudence, and perhaps selfish- 
 ness, obliged her, she thought, to perform — to forbid Eloise to 
 consider herself as any longer engaged to De Rosann. In vain the 
 heroic girl, with tears in her eyes, threw herself at her mother's feet, 
 and implored a reversion of this sad sentence — in vain did her uncle 
 eloquently plead in behalf of the lovers, and endeavour to impress 
 upon Mrs. Clayton's mind that it was neither humane nor generous to 
 desert the poor youth at a moment when sorrows bowed him down to 
 the earth, and when the rest of the world forsook him — and notwith- 
 standing she believed, nay — was convinced in her own mind, as well 
 as her brother-in-law and her almost heart-broken daughter, that De 
 Rosann was innocent of the dreadful crime laid to his charge, Mrs. 
 Clayton was still firm in her resolves not to suffer Eloise to regard 
 him as her future husband, unless he were fully acquitted in the face 
 of the world by a jury of his countrymen. 
 
 The eventful day of the trial dawned ; and numerous were the 
 hopes and fears in the minds of the few who were any way interested 
 as to the fate of Alfred de Rosann. The court was crowded to 
 excess ; the accused manifested a degree of firmness which astonished 
 those who had heard or read of his agitation and terror on the morning 
 of his arrest; and when his counsel rose to defend him, a pin might 
 have been heard to fall on the oaken floor of the hall, in which the 
 tribunal sate, at the Palais de Justice. 
 
 De Rosann's counsel entered at considerable length upon the affairs 
 
20 ALFRED ; OR ADVENTURES 
 
 of his client. He described the negligence of which the accused had 
 been guilty in conducting his business — the investigation of his cir- 
 cumstances, which took place in compliance with the judicious counsel 
 given by an old friend of his late fathers — the partnership between 
 him and La Motte — the notorious indifference which he still mani- 
 fested towards the details of his commercial speculations — the material 
 fact that the whole business was left to the entire management of La 
 Motte — the ignorance of De Eosann in mercantile matters — his occu- 
 pations and pursuits so much at variance with them — his perpetual 
 absence from the establishment — and the facility with which a design- 
 ing villain might have taken him in. The lawyer, amidst a hum of 
 approbation which ceased at a signal from the President, then proceeded 
 to detail De Rosann's version of the affair that had thus brought him 
 before the court — the manner in which La Motte had made use of 
 him as a mere tool — his intoxication on the night when the bills were 
 fabricated — the circumstance of La Motte's having desired a domestic 
 to supply them with writing materials, and to retire for the night, as 
 his services were no longer required — the certainty that La Motte 
 himself negotiated the bills on the following morning, and decamped 
 the day after — and, lastly, the contents of the letter despatched from 
 Dover, which was in La Motte's own hand -writing, and which proved 
 that De Rosann was ignorant of the fraud attached to the transaction, 
 till the receipt of the said letter. The counsel terminated his skilful 
 defence by saying that if the evidence he had recapitulated in favour 
 of his client were not sufficient to procure a verdict of acquittal, he 
 sincerely hoped that the youth and inexperience of the accused might 
 have their weight in his side of the balance which a just judge and 
 jury held in their hands. 
 
 A murmur of approbation followed this able defence ; and hope beat 
 high in the breast of De Rosann, when the Procureur du Roi rose to 
 reply. 
 
 The public minister said that however negligent in his affairs the 
 accused might have been, he must still have had some acquaintance 
 with the principal transactions of the house — that the investigation 
 into the position of his affairs, which took place according to the 
 wishes of a friend, must have opened his eyes to the ruinous con- 
 sequences of indifference and inattention to his business — that the 
 partnership between him and La Motte would not have increased that 
 inattention on the part of a young man of De Rosann "s known talent and 
 abilities — that De Rosann had often been in La Motte"s private office 
 — that it was fair to argue those visits were for the purpose of looking 
 a little into his affairs — that however ignorant the accused might be of 
 mercantile transactions, he knew enough to ascertain whether the 
 books were kept in order, whether the receipts equalled the expendi- 
 ture, and whether those receipts and expenditures were properly 
 balanced— that no sensible man could conceive the possibility of the 
 head partner in a large house not knowing whether he had ;>. thousand 
 or a hundred thousand francs a year — and that with re; ard to the 
 continued absence of the accused from his establishment, he, the 
 Procureur du Roi, had already called evidence to prove that De 
 Rosann was seen at least on ten different occasions in the private 
 office of La Motte. the time he spent there being quite sufficient to 
 
OF A FRENCH GENTLEMAN, 21 
 
 put him au courant of the principal features of his affairs, supposing 
 — and the supposition was a fair one — that such was the object of 
 those visits. The public minister then entered minutely upon every 
 particular relative to the forgery. He said that the bills were in the 
 hand-writing of the accused — that not one was drawn up by La Motte 
 — that it could not be proved at what time the bills were fabricated, 
 two hours having elapsed between the moment at which the stamps 
 were purchased and the hour of six when De Rosann sate down to din- 
 ner with La Motte — that it was reasonable to suppose that the bills 
 were drawn up before dinner — that the trembling hand in which they 
 were written was as likely to be the effect of extreme agitation as of 
 intoxication — that, when the servant took in the coffee and writing 
 materials to the drawing-room, De Rosann was in a state of ebriety 
 which appeared to defy the possibility of his being able to hold a pen, 
 much less to trace a legible line — that it was very natural for La 
 Motte to desire the domestic to retire, it being late, and his master 
 unable to give orders — that La Motte negotiated the bills, because he 
 was a party to the concern — that De Rosann was outwitted by La 
 Motte, who decamped with the proceeds — and that the letter from 
 Dover was the result of La Motte's remaining good feelings towards 
 the accused. The Procureur wound up his oration by enquiring if it 
 were likely that &ny one in his senses would be capable of so rabid a 
 folly as to sign bills of exchange to the amount of three hundred 
 thousand francs, without knowing whether he had a right so to do ? 
 He affirmed that every man of the world was naturally suspicious of 
 his neighbour to a certain extent; no person, experienced in the ways 
 of life, ever put unlimited confidence in another. These were sad 
 truths : but moral maxims were generally disagreeable to the ear. 
 Under all these circumstances, the Procureur du Roi felt it his im- 
 perious duty to demand that the full penalty of the law should be put 
 in force on the present occasion ; and that, according to (he 2nd 
 Chapter, 3rd Section, and 147th Article, of the Penal Code, the 
 accused should be condemned to twenty years' hard labour at the 
 galleys, that being the maximum of the punishment allowed by the 
 law in such instances. 
 
 The Procureur du Roi seated himself amidst a solemn silence. His 
 speech had made a considerable impression upon the multitude of 
 spectators : the last orator generally prevails with vulgar minds, be- 
 cause they have not the memory to recollect, nor the sense to compare 
 the defence of the former one with the refutation of the latter. But 
 this was not the case with the jury. In France the meanest individual, 
 as well as the highest, is certain of obtaining justice ; and the presence 
 of the public minister in every court, save the Tribunals of Commerce, 
 is an advantage and a measure of jurisprudence wi^cn cannot be 
 sufficiently appreciated. 
 
 After an hour's consultation, the jury returned to the court, and 
 the foreman derhred that the majority* was agreed to find a verdict 
 
 * The twelve individuals, who compose a jury, are not obliged, according to the 
 French laws, to be unanimous in their decisions. A mjrcrtv of two-thirds can deliver 
 a verdict. 
 
22 ALFRED; OR ADVENTURES 
 
 against the prisoner ; but that the opinion was coupled with a strong 
 recommendation to mercy, as there were many extenuating and even 
 doubtful circumstances connected with the whole transaction. The 
 judges then whispered together for some time ; and at length the 
 President pronounced the definitive sentence of the court, which 
 found De Rosann guilty of the crime laid to his charge; but on 
 account of his vouth, of many circumstances in his favour, and of the 
 recommendation of the jury, the severe penalty of the law, the full 
 force of which had been demanded by the public minister, was com- 
 muted to a milder punishment ; and De liosann was condemned to ten 
 years' hard labour in the criminal prisons of Brest. 
 
 When the awful annunciation met his ears, the unfortunate youth 
 fainted in Mr. Clayton's amis ; and was borne, rather than conducted 
 back to his dungeon in a state bordering on distraction. But the 
 worthy uncle of Eloise whispered comfort in his ear ; he assured him 
 that so far as it regarded himself, he was not only convinced of his 
 youno- friend's innocence, but that he would ever dissuade his niece 
 from "contracting another engagement ; and he knew Mrs. Clayton's 
 maternal affection too well to suppose that she would force her 
 daughter's inclination in so delicate a matter. These words consider- 
 ably soothed the mind of the unfortunate Alfred; and the kind- 
 hearted Mr. Clayton even went so far as to promise that he would 
 occasionally accompany Eloise to visit her lover for a few moments 
 in his miserable cell. The gratitude of De Rosann's wounded soul was 
 beyond all expression : he thanked his benefactor a thousand times, 
 and hope kindled a feeble flame in his bosom where all hitherto was 
 darkness and obscurity. . 
 
 And Eloise did visit De Rosann m his dungeon ; and she promised 
 an eternal fidelity; and her last words, ere she left him, called heaven 
 to witness the oath of unchangeable affection which she thus solemnly 
 
 P Amongst the brilliant circle of acquaintances and friends that the 
 now forsaken Alfred once adorned, was a nobleman of high rank, who 
 enjoyed a lucrative situation near the person of the king. To him 
 did Mr Clayton address a petition in behalf of De Rosann. The 
 nobleman generously undertook to interest himself in the cause of a 
 fellow- creature in whose innocence he himself believed ; and the 
 royal mercy was not solicited in vain. Charles X., with all his 
 faults, was not of a cruel nor uncompromising disposition: he 
 instantly lent an attentive ear to the prayer that was offered up before 
 his throne ; and the sentence of De Rosann was commuted to a so- 
 iourn of five years instead often at the galleys. 
 
 Eloise accompanied Mr. Clayton— but of course these visits were 
 unknown to her mother : it was the first secret the innocent maiden 
 had ever concealed from the knowledge of her only parent; and even 
 now her repugnance to act against that parent's wishes was scarcely 
 overcome by the reasoning of her uncle, whose heart was not obdurate 
 enough to deprive two fond lovers of each other's society, and whose 
 conviction of Alfred's innocence made him act a generous part towards 
 the unhappy voung man— Eloise accompanied Mr. Clayton to Bieetre 
 (whither De Rosann had been removed a few days previously) to be 
 
OF A FRENCH GENTLEMAN. 23 
 
 the bearer of the joyful tidings that awaited him. Hope then assumed 
 brighter colours — live years would soon elapse — and the tender 
 couple already saw a smiling future not far distant. Mr. Clayton 
 wiped away tears of mingled joy and sorrow from his eyes. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 THE CONVICTS. 
 
 1 r was on the twenty-seventh of April, 1830, in the reign of the good 
 King Charles the Tenth, that a number of convicts left the walls of 
 Bicetre, under a strong escort of Gendarmes, to be conducted to 
 Brest. The rays of the rising sun had scarcely changed the dubious 
 twilight into a certain dawn — a cold breeze swept around the gloomy 
 towers of the prison, which the criminals were nevertheless averse to 
 quit — and the threatening appearance of the heavens seemed to give 
 notice of an impending storm. The clanking of the martial weapons 
 of the momted police — the haggard faces and shivering forms of the 
 malefactors — the rattling of their chains — the frowning pyramid of 
 buildings whence those unhappy beings had ere now issued — and, the 
 dreariness of the weather, ail combined to strike terror to the hearts 
 of two individuals, who stood at a short distance from the cavalcade, 
 and gazed upon the procession with more than common curiosity 
 pictured in their anxious countenances. 
 
 The chain of galley-slaves,* as it is called in France, was composed 
 of about fifty or sixty men. The moment the doors of Bicetre were 
 thrown open, they had issued forth two at a time, such being the 
 manner in which they were fettered together — and paired off to their 
 respective situations in the inglorious rank. Eighteen or twenty 
 Gendarmes, bearing loaded carabines at their backs and pistols in the 
 holsters attached to their saddles, guarded the prisoners with most 
 scrupulous care, and offered an additionakguarantee for their safety. 
 Of the impossibility of overcoming such a force the malefactors were 
 well aware ; and if they cherished any scheme towards liberating them- 
 selves from the ignominious shackles that confined them, it was pro- 
 crastinated until their arrival at Brest should furnish them with a 
 better opportunity of putting the design into execution, and a less 
 distant prospect of success. For singular as it may appear to the 
 reader, it is however a notorious fact, that few criminals have out- 
 witted the cunning or defeated the diligence of the Gendarmes on 
 their road to the walls of Brest and Toulon ; whereas a month seldom 
 passes without witnessing the escape of a convict from one of those 
 towns. 
 
 Few spectators were present on this occasion to glut their selfish 
 curiosity with the sight of human degradation : there was but little 
 novelty attached to the mournful ceremony ; and in France the public 
 iournals seldom take notice of the days fixed for executing criminals, 
 
 * La chaine des galeriens : we shall henceforth, with the permission of the cour- 
 teous reader, anglicise this expression. 
 
24 ALFRED; OR ADVENTURES 
 
 or transporting a chain of guliey-siaves from one place to another. 
 Apart from the scanty crowd of idlers, and drawn thither by motives 
 far different from those that attracted the rest, stood the two individuals 
 we have before alluded to. They were as motionless as statues — one 
 clung to the other's arm— but the eyes of both were turned towards 
 the same point— their looks dwelt upon the youngest, the most de* 
 jected, and the most remarkable as to form and feature, of the 
 convicts. Tears trickled down their cheeks, as they gazed upon the 
 youth whom misfortune had condemned to so sad a destiny. But 
 they spoke not a word, uttered not a syllable— grief with them was 
 dumb as to ejaculation, although it were proclaimed by a thousand 
 tongues on their death-like features — and that internal sorrow which 
 their countenances betrayed, was more acute than can be described. 
 
 The object of their solicitude, whom the reader has doubtless 
 recognised to be Alfred de liosann, was one of the handsomest of 
 God^s creatures. Bowed down as he was to the earth with a deep 
 sense of shame and degradation, still did the only half-suppressed 
 energies of a noble mind flash from his dark eyes, and stamp him at 
 once as a being totally different from the rest of the motley group in 
 which he now found himself. His graceful form was not robbed 
 of its perfections by the unseemly garb that enveloped it ; nor could 
 the beauty of his regular features be disfigured by the traces of an- 
 guish and despair. His years had perhaps scarcely reached their 
 twenty-fourth summer ; in stature he was somewhat above the 
 standard height of a Frenchman ; his figure was rather slender than 
 athletic ; hisl\air was black ; his eyes were large and dark ; and his 
 hands and feet small even to a fault. Let us leave him a moment to 
 his bitter reflections, and direct the readers attention to those indivi- 
 duals who appear so deeply interested in his fate. 
 
 The first was an elderly man, with white hair, and a pale brow on 
 which sate untimely wrinkles. And yet that hoariness of locks and 
 those numerous traces on his forehead were more the effects of deep 
 thought, and settled melancholy, than the work of years ; for his age 
 scarcely exceeded live and forty. He was tall, well-formed, and 
 possessed features far from disagreeable. In his youth he must have 
 been one of those who, endowed with many gifts from the hands of 
 capricious Nature, are calculated to win the favour of the fair sex, 
 and make their way in the world, if they have no fortune of their own, 
 through the medium of an auspicious marriage. He was dressed in 
 deep black, and on his left arm hung a large cloak, with which, de- 
 spite of the bitter chill of the morning, he thought not of covering 
 himself. His ideas were too deeply occupied by another and more 
 material affair than the cloudy sky and the impending storm : had a 
 second deluge commenced, he would not have perceived the force of 
 the falling waters. There are times when the soul of man is thus 
 abstracted from the scenes of frequent occurrence ; and when its 
 reflections are alone engaged in the contemplation of unusual sorrows. 
 It would almost seem that our existence is now and then marked by 
 moments in which we can say to our imaginations, " Ponder on this 
 evil which has befallen us, and on nought besides." And how faith- 
 fully—Oh ! far too faithfully are we obeyed ! So it appeared to be 
 with the individual we are describing. That manly form stood erect 
 
OF A FRENCH GENTLEMAN. 25 
 
 upon a little eminence, regardless of the cold which even made the 
 Gendarmes, whose constitutions were better inured to hardships than 
 his — for his appearance bespoke the gentleman — nay, more, it betrayed 
 the rich man reared in the lap of luxury — fain to draw their mili- 
 tary cloaks around them. But he shivered not — there was ti burn- 
 ing fire in his soul that made him indifferent to the bitterness of the 
 morning. 
 
 And he had a companion with him ; but her delicate frame was 
 carefully surrounded by the folds of an ample cloak, beneath which 
 the graces of her person might be well conceived : for so lovely a 
 head never belonged to a faulty form. This reasoning is scarcely 
 correct, you will say, gentle reader ; but ideas of beauty, according to 
 Descartes, are painted in the phantasy ; and those ideas not unfre- 
 quently make the philosopher himself forget his logic, and write at 
 random : in this case, however, it will be found that our assertions 
 were not rashly hazarded. 
 
 The dark blue eyes of this beautiful creature were suffused in tears ; 
 and her whole countenance wore the appearance of despair. There 
 was no possibility of mistaking the heart-rending expression of her 
 lips apart, of her head moving, as frequent sighs agitated her bosom, 
 and of her quickly repeated sobs. A misanthrope would have wept at 
 that distressing spectacle ; the man-hater of Athens must have 
 relented, had he beheld the unfeigned woe of so young and fair a 
 person. But no description can convey to the mind of the reader a 
 competent idea of her intense agony ; the support she derived from 
 the right arm of her companion alone prevented her from falling. 
 
 It is scarcely necessary to inform the reader that these individuals 
 were no other than the excellent-hearted Mr. Clayton, and the lovely 
 Eloise. 
 
 A deep silence had ensued on their part the moment that the caval- 
 cade issued from the gates of Bicetre; and while the Gendarmes were 
 occupied in arranging the ranks in which the squadron of criminals 
 was formed, the weeping girl feebly waved her handkerchief to him 
 who was the object of so much solicitude on her part, and on that of 
 her companion. But Alfred either saw her not, or purposely hung 
 down his head to avoid meeting her glances : and when she noticed 
 this, her tears fell the more abundantly. A quarter of an hour elapsed 
 ere the procession was ready to move on ; and then, when many of 
 the convicts turned round to bid farewell, as it were, to the prison 
 behind them, De Rosann ventured to raise his eyes for an instant — 
 they met those of Eloise and her uncle — and one expressive look pro- 
 claimed how much her affectionate kindness was appreciated. That 
 look spoke volumes — volumes of gratitude, of love, of sorrow, and 
 yet of hope. Her lips moved — 'twas a prayer to heaven that she 
 offered for the welfare of the unhappy young man — and as the galley- 
 slaves now began their doleful march, Mr. Clayton hurried his tender 
 charge to a carriage that waited near, and they were speedily far away 
 from the walls cf Bicetre. 
 
 Meantime the chain moved onward, and soon left the sovereign city 
 of Europe far behind. From the summit of a hill where the troop 
 reposed for a moment, that vast assemblage of edifices was seen stretch- 
 ing over the wide plain on which it stands like the Babylon of ancient 
 4 
 
26 ALFRED; OR ADVENTURES 
 
 days, and its thousand towers appeared to mock the threatening sky. 
 The rays of the sun, now falling on this hemisphere less languidly 
 than when the convicts first hegan their march, gilded the lofty dome 
 of the Hospital of the Invalids and made it glitter like a distant light- 
 house on some tall rock. The dark and gloomy towers of Notre 
 Dame, that seemed to defy the ravages of time, and despise the 
 centuries which had already passed over their heads, frowned above 
 the myriads of dwellings around them, and raised their parapets to 
 heaven like two Goliaths in the midst of a mighty army. Nor less 
 did the beams of that morning sun irradiate the summit of St. Gene- 
 vieve,* within whose vaults repose the ashes of heroes, of philosophers, 
 and of statesmen. The pinnacles of St. Sulpice, the Sorbonne, and 
 the University caught those gladdening rays ; the sepulchres of Pere 
 La Chaise on one side, and the tall buildings of Montmartre on the 
 other, closed in the northern direction this panoramic view of Paris. 
 
 Tears stood in Alfred de Rosann's eyes, as the chain once more 
 resumed its march, and as the gay picture of the French metropolis 
 faded from his sight. He had indulged in the pleasures of that me- 
 tropolis — he had tasted of the sweets collected so profusely in that 
 hive of luxury and delight — he had shone in the most brilliant circles 
 of fashion — he had mingled with the nobles of France at the splendid 
 court of the royal Charles — and now, what was he ? — a degraded out- 
 cast ! " Oh !" thought he, as he cast a sickening look on his com- 
 panions, " that the name of De Rosann should ever be thus disgraced ! 
 Oh ! that the grave did not sooner close over me, before those 
 accursed fetters should have stamped my infamy, and entered into 
 my soul ! La Motte ! La Motte ! could'st thou but now see him who 
 put his confidence in thee, and whom thy villany has brought to 
 shame !" 
 
 " You are melancholy, my friend,"' said the individual to whom he 
 was attached by the ignominious bond ; " cheer up your spirits, and 
 don't let the others see you take it thus to heart, or by the eternal 
 God!" he added with a peculiar emphasis, " it will cost you your 
 life!" 
 
 " How?" enquired De Rosann, after a moment's hesitation as to 
 whether he should answer or not, 
 
 " Speak in a whisper, my young bird," returned the other, " and I 
 shall be glad to converse with you : but if you let every ear beoome 
 acquainted with the nature of our talk, I shall hold my tongue at 
 once." 
 
 " Well— well," muttered the youth hastily. 
 
 '* No impatience, my dear boy — and I will stand your friend," said 
 the convict with most ineffable coolness. " This is my third visit to 
 the bag'ne ; f and a man has not been there twice already without 
 having profited by a little experience. If you mope, and cry, and look 
 dull, the others will mistrust you ; and as they are obliged more or 
 less to make friends of each other, they'll very soon put you out of 
 the way." 
 
 " They would not murder me ?" asked De Rosann with a shudder. 
 
 * Now called the Pantheon. 
 
 t The prisons in which the convicts are confined at Brest, Tou on, £cc. 
 
OF A FRENCH GENTLEMAN. 27 
 
 " And why not ? There are many at the bagnc who are con- 
 
 einned for murder: they murdered to get money, and in so doing 
 
 hey risked their liberty — aye, and even their heads. Well, then," 
 
 continued the convict, " do you think they would scruple to slit your 
 
 wind-pipe, if your presence marred or interfered with an escape ?" 
 
 A cold sweat stood on De Rosann's brow — an indescribable pang 
 shot through his heart — his brain whirled — his eyes became dim. 
 
 " Come, come," cried his soi-disant friend; "cheer up, my good 
 fellow — and do not give way to this cursed melancholy. How long 
 are you condemned for ?" 
 
 " Five years," was the reply, in a voice almost choked with emo- 
 tion. 
 
 " And I for ten : but if I do not see the good walls of Paris once 
 within as many months, then let Pierre Belle-Rose lose his excellent 
 reputation for cunning and craft." 
 
 " Ah ! how*?" enquired De Rosann. 
 
 " There is not a soul," continued the convict, "either in our chain, 
 or at the bagne — unless indeed it be yourself — that has not an idea 
 and a hope of escape sooner or later. This is the reason which obliges 
 us to make confidants of our companions ; and the same may account 
 to you wherefore a religious, sulky, moping fellow, who would betray 
 a friend to gain the governor's favour, is suspected. But I will help 
 you to weather all difficulties, if you only connive with me to attain 
 the grand object. What is your crime ?" 
 
 " I was accused of forgery," answered De Rosann, a deep scarlet 
 suffusing his whole countenance. 
 
 " A very gentlemanly and noble perpetration," continued Belle- 
 Rose, for such was the name of the individual to whom De Rosann 
 was chained. " I hope the amount was considerable." 
 
 "Three hundred thousand francs." 
 
 " Tonnerre de Dieu /" exclaimed the convict, gazing on his 
 youthful companion in admiration mingled with respect : " I suppose 
 you are not lacking in ready cash then?" 
 
 " I have not a single sou" was the laconic answer. 
 
 " God knows you cannot have less," rejoined Pierre Belle-Rose, 
 his admiration and his respect for De Rosann essentially diminishing. 
 
 " Every centime would have been taken from me by the Gendarmes 
 the moment I was captured, even had I concealed cash about my 
 person." 
 
 " See what it is never to have been at the galleys during one's life," 
 cried Belle-Rose in a compassionate tone of voice ; " he does not even 
 know how to conceal his money ! Poor young man ! But at the 
 next town we must get a supply. — Ha ! ga, ?non brave" continued 
 the experienced convict, once more addressing himself to De Rosann, 
 " there are two features in your tale that appear somewhat incon- 
 sistent. Now, as we have no secrets amongst ourselves, I must 
 demand an explanation. In the first place, how does it happen that 
 you did not decamp with your three hundred thousand francs, and 
 place the frontier between you and the police? and in the second 
 place, I cannot conceive how condemnation for twenty years, which 
 is the punishment for a forgery like your's, could be changed to a 
 paltry five?" 
 
28 ALFRED ; OR ADVENTURES 
 
 " In the first place, then," replied De Rosann, willing to conciliate 
 Pierre Belle-Rose, " as regards the decamping, I must inform you 
 that I was arrested for the forgery only ten minutes after I knew it 
 had been committed ; and in the second place, my youth, and the 
 eventual intercession of an old nobleman, obtained a commutation of 
 the severity of my sentence." 
 
 At this moment the chain entered Versailles, and the Gendarmes 
 endeavoured to enforce a strict silence amongst the prisoners. 
 
 " Are you not very much ashamed, De Rosann, for all the people 
 are at their windows to gaze upon us?" enquired Belle- Rose in a 
 whisper that was scarcely audible. 
 
 " God knows I am," returned the youth in agony. 
 " Silence, thieves !" thundered a Gendarme. 
 
 " There, my dear boy," muttered Belle -Rose, as he threw a hand- 
 kerchief over Alfred's head, so as completely to cover his face. 
 
 " A thousand thanks," whispered the youth, feeling really grateful 
 for this unexpected act of kindness. 
 
 In about five minutes he felt a trembling hand touch his pocket, 
 and drop something heavy into it. A voice, almost choked wifh 
 sobs, at the same time said, " God bless thee, my poor dear — dear 
 nephew ; and recollect that at thy return, thine uncle will be glad to 
 give thee an asylum !" 
 
 De Rosann would have turned round to convince the compassionate 
 personage of his mistake ; but a word from Belle-Rose checked him, 
 and he continued his weary march without altering his position in the 
 rank. 
 
 " Now we are outside the town," cried Belle-Rose, " and you may 
 take off the handkerchief. Let us see how much the old fellow has 
 given you." 
 
 "What— how?" asked De Rosann, momentarily forgetting the 
 circumstance of a heavy object having been slid into his pock^ f 
 " Voter uncle" replied Belle- Rose with an ironical grin. 
 De Rosann drew forth a purse in which there were a few gold coins. 
 "Bravo! bravo!" exclaimed Pierre, laughing heartily; and soon 
 the whole chain of galley-slaves was made acquainted with thereon tents 
 of the good uncle's bequest. Even the Gendarmes joined in the 
 generaf mirth, which was not a little heightened by the ignorance of 
 De Rosann as to the means practised to obtain the supply. His curio- 
 sity was however speedily satisfied. 
 
 " I met the nephew of that worthy old gentleman at Bicetre," said 
 Pierre Belle-Rose, " and learnt his whole history, for he was blest 
 with an extraordinary mania of communicativeness. He told me 
 that his excellent and kind uncle lived at Versailles — that this uncle 
 would look out for him when the chain passed through the town— 
 and that the handkerchief over tne face was to be the signal, if he 
 were one of the number. Thus, thanks to thy modesty, did the rag 
 betray thee, De Rosann !" 
 
 At this communication the galley-slaves in the immediate vicinity 
 of Belle-Rose set up a hearty laugh ; and that individual, willing to 
 maintain the mirth he had so successfully originated, without preface 
 or prelude, cleared his throat, and commenced the following air in a 
 voice far from discordant and disagreeable : — 
 
CF A. FRENCH GENTLEMAN. 
 
 THE POWERS OF WINF. 
 
 Of wealth and glory monarchs boast — 
 
 His mistress' charms the lover sings •— 
 For me the glass and jovial toast 
 Excel the bliss of swains and kings. 
 The flowing bowl 
 Inspires the soul, 
 While boist'rous laughter round us rings , - 
 The jest and song 
 Our mirth prolong, 
 And sorrow flies on drooping wings. 
 To welcome in the morning, 
 
 Around the board we'll stay ; 
 And when the light is dawning, 
 To bed we'll haste away ! 
 
 Existence is a changing scene, 
 
 Of happiness and woe combin'd ; 
 When our meridian sky's serene, 
 Dark clouds are menacing behind. 
 The ills of fate 
 Our steps await, 
 And lead us on, to danger blind :— 
 Then learn to quaff 
 The bowl, and laugh 
 When Fortune's freaks perplex the mind- 
 To welcome in the morning, 
 
 Around the board we'll stay ; 
 And when the light is dawning, 
 To bed we'll haste away ! 
 
 lo life so long that we can spare 
 
 A day to sighs — a night to tears? — 
 Reflection but increases care, 
 And conjures up a host of fears. 
 Then wherefore bring 
 A blight on spring, 
 And crush the blossoms of our years? 
 Epernay's juice 
 Will e'er produce 
 That which no change of season sears. 
 To welcome in the morning, 
 
 Around the board we'll stay ; 
 And when the light is dawning, 
 To bed we'll haste away 1 
 
 The soldier in the battle-plain— 
 
 The sailor on the boundless deep— 
 The courtier in the monarch's train — 
 The criminal who fears to sleep — 
 
 Admit that wine 
 
 Has charms divine 
 The soul from mournful thoughts to keep; 
 
 And haste their woes 
 
 Or anxious throes 
 In sweet oblivion's bliss to steep. 
 
 29 
 
30 ALFRED; OR ADVENTURES 
 
 To welcome in the morning, 
 
 Around the board we'll stay ; 
 And when the light is dawning, 
 
 To bed we'll haste away. 
 
 The Mussulman in festive hour — 
 
 The midnight robber arm'd to slay— 
 The poet in his mistress' bower — 
 The trav'ller on his lonely way — 
 Their blessings shed 
 On Bacchus' head, 
 And quaff the bowl with laughter ga/ : 
 The rich — the poor 
 The God adore, 
 And constant own his potent sway. 
 To welcome in the morning, 
 
 Around the board we'll stay ; 
 And when the light is dawning, 
 To bed we'll haste away. 
 
 In wine and women every ill 
 
 Originates — so priests declare : 
 But we will drain the goblet still, 
 And then to love a moment spare. 
 Our fervent boast 
 Shall be the toast 
 That tells the praise of woman fair ; 
 The brimming bowl 
 Can cheer the soul, 
 And love defy th' advance of care. 
 To welcome in the morning, 
 
 Around the board we'll stay ; 
 And when the light is dawning, 
 To bed we'll haste away. 
 
 ** Many a time have I sung that pleasant stave to a host of good 
 fellows," "observed Belle-Rose, as he brought the strain to a conclu- 
 sion. " I learnt it from a prince of a companion at the board, and 
 one who was rather famous in his way. He accompanied me to 
 Toulon some time ago — we were re-inforced by him and a dozen 
 others at Lyons — and there he is now for any thing that I know." 
 
 " What was he condemned for?" enquired a convict. 
 
 " For the small mistake he made about the old ruin in the neigh- 
 bourhood of Lyons, you know," answered Belle-Rose. 
 
 '* I cannot say that I recollect the circumstance," observed the 
 other. 
 
 " Then 1 will recall it to your memory," continued the facetious and 
 talkative Pierre. " You must remember that at a little distance from 
 Lyons are the remains of a very old castle, which formerly belonged 
 to some ancient family whose name I have forgotten. At the present 
 moment the four bare walls are alone standing ; and a poor farmer 
 some years ago became«-proprietor of them together with the half-acre 
 of land upon which they are situate. One day a gentleman called 
 upon the farmer and offered to purchase the ruins and the space of 
 ground they occupy, asserting that he was a distant connexion of the 
 faniilv from which the property had passed away, and that he was 
 
OF A FRENCH GENTLEMAN. 31 
 
 desirous it should not be possessed by a stranger. The farmer was 
 delighted at thus being enabled to dispose of that which to him was 
 entirely useless, and a bargain was speedily concluded. The sum of 
 five hundred francs was the price offered — and that of a thousand was 
 immediately tendered ; whereupon the overjoyed farmer hastened 
 with the gentleman to Lyons, where they sought for a notary to draw 
 up the necessary deed. — ' You will probably do me the favour — for 
 the sake of the honour of our family' — said the gentleman to the 
 notary — ' to represent in the deed that I have paid fifty thousand francs 
 for the land, instead of a thousand ; and your fees shall be reckoned in 
 proportion V — * Certainly,' replied the notary : and the document was 
 drawn up accordingly. No sooner had the gentleman thus obtained 
 possession of the ruins, than he hastened to Paris, called upon a money- 
 lender, exhibited his title-deed, and demanded a loan on mortgage of 
 thirty thousand francs. The money-lender wrote to the mortgage- 
 office at Lyons to ascertain if any other sums had been raised upon the 
 property ; and receiving a satisfactory reply, he advanced the money 
 forthwith. The time of payment arrived — no cash was of course 
 forthcoming — and the money-lender hastened to Lyons to make good 
 his title to the estate in the place of the late proprietor. His as- 
 tonishment and wrath may be readily conceived when he found that 
 he had given thirty thousand francs for a few old bricks standing on 
 scarcely half an acre of land. He, however, succeeded in capturing 
 the gentleman, who was foolish enough to return to Lyons for some 
 purpose or another so soon as he had raised his money, and the 
 Procureur du Roi was put in possession of the particulars of the case. 
 The Gendarmes were then set to work — the gentleman was caught — 
 and shortly afterwards a judge and jury politely requested him to 
 accompany me and some fifty or sixty others in a little excursion to 
 Toulon — an invitation which he could not possibly refuse." 
 
 "Admirable!" exclaimed the convict, for whose benefit this anec- 
 dote had been especially narrated ; "I think I have heard the story 
 before; but it bears telling a second time. Vidocq — who, by the 
 bye, is only innocent in his own book — relates nothing equal to it." 
 
 " Nothing," coincided Belle-Rose; "it is the most ingenious and 
 brilliant achievement recorded in the annals of French mistakes. I 
 would sacrifice all my reputation, even if I were Vidocq himself, 
 of whom you have just spoken, to be tlie author of so splendid a 
 feat. An epic poem cannot ensure a more lasting renown than this 
 exploit." 
 
 " I don't know any thing about epic poems," observed the convict 
 with whom Belle-Rose was conversing ; " but this I do know, that I 
 should have very much liked to have had the thirty thousand francs." 
 
 " You are not exceedingly difficult to please, my worthy friend," 
 exclaimed Belle-Rose. — " Poor fellow ! I suppose he is still at Toulon, 
 and I shouldn't be at all surprised if he endeavoured to raise a mort- 
 gage on his chains. He's ingenious enough for any thing. Do you 
 not think it was a most glorious trick, De Rosann?" demanded Belle- 
 Rose, after a momentary pause, and turning abruptly round towards 
 the unhappy Alfred, who was too much absorbed in his own woes, and 
 too deeply disgusted at all that was passing around him, to wear a 
 countenance which invited conversation. 
 
32 alfred; or adventures 
 
 He was accordingly about to have replied somewhat bitterlj to his 
 companion ; but an instant's salutary reflection showed the folly and 
 uselessness of irritating one who might perhaps aid him to make his 
 escape hereafter, and at all events initiate him in the ways and habits 
 of the bagne. But this circumstance brought the sense of his own 
 wretchedness a thousand times more forcibly than ever to his mind ; 
 for it not only exemplified to him the villany, the hypocrisy, and the 
 deceit of which his companions were capable ; it also compelled him 
 to acknowledge within himself the disagreeable and repugnant truth 
 that he would be condemned to become a partner in their vices, and 
 often the actual agent of their turpitude. To one, who has been 
 brought up with the feelings of a gentleman, who has been educated 
 in the schools of honour, of integrity, and virtue, and whose soul 
 knows not how to descend to such petty instances of larceny or vulgar 
 dissimulation as were hourly practised by the members of the chain, 
 a situation like De Rosann's must be the most insupportable. Cut off 
 from all intercourse with the polite portion of society, linked to 
 murderers, burglars, and robbers, guarded by ruthless soldiers whose 
 uncompassionating dispositions expelled all sympathy or even lenity, 
 and on the road to the sink of every vice, the receptacle of ruined 
 characters — nature's outlaws, as they might be called, — De Rosann 
 would have yielded himself up entirely to despair, and have greedily 
 seized the means of putting an end to a miserable existence if such 
 means presented themselves, had not a distant hope — shining like a 
 single star in a horizon where all else was dark — prompted him to 
 cling to life, and to support to the utmost of his ability the horrors 
 that might be in store for him. This philosophical resignation, which 
 could even tutor his mind to see a blooming future succeed the five 
 years of distress and of infamy to which he was now doomed by the 
 laws of his country, was only the result of long reflection and self- 
 communion. When the awful sentence was first pronounced upon 
 him, his actions, his thoughts, and his words were those of a madman: 
 days passed away — weeks flew over his head in his dreary cell at 
 Bicetre — and at length the clamorous grief became tempered down 
 into the moody resignation and the occasional, indifference to every 
 thing, unless some tender recollection, some softening reminiscence 
 awoke his better feelings, and wrung burning tears from his eyes, and 
 bitter — Oh ! good God ! how bitter— sighs from his breast. 
 
OF A FIIFNCIT GENTLEMAN". 33 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 BELLE-ROSE AND CHAMPIGNON. 
 
 The storm, which for many hours had threatened to burst above the 
 convicts' heads, and which was impelled by a north-easterly breeze 
 in the same direction pursued by them, towards mid-day commenced 
 with appalling violence. Deluges of rain drenched the wretched 
 malefactors and their guards to the skin, ere a ruined shed could 
 afford them a partial shelter. The thunder rolled along the face of 
 heaven in long, loud, and frequent claps ; and the lightning followed 
 •each of those celestial cannon with vivid flashes. There needed 
 but the earthquake to have made the war of elements complete. 
 
 The Gendarmes and the galley-slaves huddled together without 
 respect for persons, the former now pressing close to the latter, whose 
 very contiguity a few minutes before, they would have deemed in- 
 fectious. But the dilapidated barn, which formed their present 
 rofuge, was too much circumscribed as to space, to allow so many 
 individuals to be greatly at their ease. The vulgar adage of " Any 
 port in a storm" was never better practised than on this occasion. 
 
 The Gendarmes of France form without a doubt the first body of 
 police in the world. Their well-caparisoned horses are invariably 
 in much better condition than those belonging to the regular cavalry. 
 Their uniform is also simple and elegant at the same time ; and 
 their appearance far more military than many of the horse regi 
 ments. In Paris they wear the bear-skin cap that usually dignifies 
 the grenadier ; in the departments this unwieldy head-dress is sup- 
 plied by a neat cocked hat, worn " ath wart-ships." They are more- 
 over peculiarly clean in their persons— their sabres as well polished 
 as a Parisian looking-g\ass — their aiguillettes as white as snow. 
 There is not a speck of dirt upon their yellow belts, nor a mark of 
 grease on their well- brushed blue coats. Their grey trowsers, with 
 broad red stripes descending from the waist to the boot, appear as 
 if they had only just left the tailor's shop; and the fierce mous- 
 tachioand the thick whisker give an additional warlike air to their 
 fine persons. They are as remarkable for their civility to individuals 
 who are fortunate enough not to be in their custody, and who may 
 chance to solicit information of them as to the turnings and devia- 
 tions of a road, &c, as they are austere and repulsive to their 
 prisoners. They are never known to receive a bribe — they may 
 sometimes render an unfortunate being a service — but this occa- 
 sional generosity is the result of a sudden and evanescent philan- 
 thropy, and is not to be elicited by hire. Their wants are circum- 
 scribed to a little— a few sous in their pockets to purchase tobacco, 
 a petit verre de cognac the first thing in the morning, and a bottle of 
 beer in the course of the day, are all they require beyond their' 
 regular meals. They are therefore temperate and trust-worthy, 
 incorruptible as to the integrity with which they discharge their 
 duty, diligent, active, and penetrating. Their cunning and alert- 
 ness in detecting crime, and in securing the authors of it, are pro- 
 verbial : the quickness with which they follow up the slightest 
 suspicion, and the important and correct conjectures they form from 
 
3i ALFRED; OR ADVENTURES 
 
 the most trivial circumstance, when employed in hunting out a male- 
 factor, are not less notorious. And such in habiliments, in princi- 
 ples, and in dispositions, were the Gendarmes who escorted the chair, 
 of convicts that were now delighted to seek the protection of an 
 almost roofless barn against the violence of the storm. Let us take 
 advantage of the moment to say one word relative to Belle-Rose. 
 
 This hardy galerien or fore at was a man of about thirty-five years 
 of age. Plis life had been a continual scene of debauchery and licen- 
 tiousness, save when the prisons of Brest or Toulon furnished him 
 with quarters which the law carefully provided for so turbulent a 
 subject. He had inherited some fortune on attaining his majority ; 
 but an ill-assorted marriage, vicious examples, bad associates, and a 
 natural predilection for gaming, soon compelled him to descend to 
 any means to obtain the necessary supplies for supporting his extra- 
 vagances. The first time that he expiated a portion of his crimes 
 at Brest, was for bigamy. He had inveigled a rich widow into the 
 matrimonial noose, and was visited the next morning by his other 
 wife, who doubtless called to congratulate him on his felicitous 
 hymeneal speculation. An unwelcome eclair cissement took place; 
 a trial ensued — and the galleys received Monsieur Pierre Belle- 
 Rose. But chains and lofty walls could neither curb his restless 
 disposition, nor abridge, for any length of time, his personal free- 
 dom. At the expiration of three or four months he had enfranchised 
 himself from the limits of his dungeon in company with another con- 
 vict named Theodore, and was once more a free man in the open 
 fiekVs. Full of lively hope, and emboldened by success, he pushed 
 bravely on towards Paris, having bidden adieu to the partner of his 
 flight at a short distance from Brest. The inconvenience of tra- 
 velling in France without a passeport en regie,* added to the dread 
 of encountering the Gendarmes who might demand his papers, and 
 arrest him when they found tie had none, obliged him, notwith- 
 standing his unwearied perseverance, to waste upwards often days 
 in his journey from Brest to the metropolis. During this tedious 
 march he was fain to make divers turnings, and to follow many cir- 
 cuitous routes which the traveller without fear would have avoided ; 
 and he was not unfrequently obliged to conceal himself for hours 
 together in woods and dense thickets, whenever he arrived in the 
 vicinity of a town, or in the neighbourhood of barracks. At length 
 the stupendous domes and towers of Paris greeted his anxious eves 
 — and he felt his spirits rise, and his heart leap within him, as he 
 entered the vast city by the Faubourg du Roule, about an hour 
 after sunset, in the month of October. That day year he was again 
 arrested, and was compelled to renew his acquaintance with the 
 Procureur du Roi. It appeared that he had contrived to hire a mag- 
 nificent house, ready furnished in a most costly manner, of an old 
 French baron who was desired by the physicians to retire for the sum- 
 mer months to his chateau in the country. A short time after the wor- 
 thy peer's back was turned upon Paris, Belle- Rose sold the furniture, 
 the plate, the linen — in fine, the whole moveable contents of the 
 
 * A passport that has gone through the necessary forma] itie p , to make it available. 
 
OF A FRENCH GENTLEMAN. 85 
 
 hotel, by a private auction. Having secured a considerable sum 
 of money through the medium of this nefarious transaction, he was 
 about to decamp, when the porter of the house, whom he had ex- 
 pressly discharged the moment Monseigneur departed for his maison 
 de campagne, apprized the venerable baron's notary of Pierre Belle- 
 Rose's proceedings, and thus procured his prompt arrest. Con- 
 veyed to Bicetre a second time, to be thence transported to Toulon, 
 he was speedily recognised as a format evade (a galley-slave who 
 has escaped) from the prisons of Brest. This unpleasant disco- 
 very was the cause of his person being again dragged before the 
 Court of Assize, and an extra three years were tacked on to the five 
 which the sentence of the court had already condemned him to 
 pass at the galleys. To be brief, he escaped a second time with a 
 person of the name of Ledoux, and managed to elude the vigilance 
 of the police from that moment until about the period which marks 
 the commencement of our tale. A swindling transaction, under 
 peculiarly aggravating circumstances, once more gave him into the 
 grasp of justice, and we now find him on his road to Brest, doomed 
 to reside there ten years, unless his good fortune or his cunning 
 restore him to liberty ere the expiration of that period. 
 
 In person Belle-Rose was indifferently well formed, being short 
 and sturdy. His shoulders were of an uncommon width — his neck 
 short— his complexion florid — and a broad grin of good humour, 
 which not unfrequently lulled asleep the eye of suspicion, was per- 
 petually on his countenance. Like all Frenchmen, he had a great 
 deal of levity in his conversation ; and often amongst his dissipated 
 associates at Paris had he maintained a general round of unceasing 
 laughter, when he recounted the various exploits and espiegleries in 
 which he had been the principal actor. Nerved with a certain phi- 
 losophical indifference to passing events, even as prosperity or ad- 
 versity affected himself, he recked but little for the galleys of Brest, 
 so long as health and vigour were spared him ; particularly since 
 he ever cherished the sanguine hope of being enabled to effect his 
 escape within a short period. 
 
 Such was the individual to whom De Rosann was shackled. 
 Immediately in front of him, and attached to another convict, was 
 a personage of quite a different character ; and as they are both 
 exceedingly necessary to the plan of this tale, we hope the reader 
 will deign to pardon us, if we " bestow a little more of our tedious- 
 ness" upon him, as Dogberry has it, and request a moment's atten- 
 tion to Monsieur Champignon,* ex-restaurateur of the Boulevard du 
 Temple, and in happier times a successful rival of the far-famed 
 Cadran Bleu. 
 
 Now the Cadran Bleu, as we must inform our English readers 
 who have not been in Paris, and who have never read the novels of 
 Paul de Kock nor Auguste Ricarde — but in these days, when the 
 rage for travelling is so universal, few have not visited that gay city 
 of luxury, pleasure, and delight — the Cadran Bleu, or Blue Clock, 
 is a famous eating-house, where merchants in a small way, the more 
 
 * The English of the word Champignon is " Mushroom." 
 
 D2 
 
36 ALFRED; OR ADVENTURES 
 
 respectable class of tradesmen, attorneys' upper clerks, actors, the 
 gentlemen who work in the government offices of their Excellencies 
 the Ministers, and individuals of that stamp, celebrate weddings, 
 birth-days, holidays, &c. The Cad ran Bleu is consequently in 
 great vogue ; and it enjoyed, perhaps, even a higher repute in the 
 times when Champignon opened a similar establishment, which, 
 being in the same neighbourhood, was instituted with the express 
 determination of rivalling the monopolizing restaurant. 
 
 Champignon was a short, fat, asthmatic man, with small grey 
 eyes, a pug nose, a wide mouth, and a good set of teeth. His age 
 might be about forty — but his wisdom kept not pace with his years ; 
 for he had scarcely two ideas, and those were connected with gas- 
 tronomy. All his similes were drawn from delicious viands — his 
 metaphors bore perpetual reference to wines or liqueurs— and the 
 only flowers of rhetoric he was ever known to garnish his discourse 
 with, were universally founded on fricandeaus, cotelettes a la jardi- 
 niere, filet de boeuf saute, &c. &c. &c. ■ 
 
 It would have been well for Champignon had he attended to 
 naught save his kitchen and his cookery-book ; for his business 
 throve even better than his most sanguine anticipations had ex- 
 pected, and the Cadran Rouge, or Red Clock, soon spread its fame 
 throughout the whole neighbourhood of the Boulevard du Temple 
 and the Marais ; or, to use the chivalrous language of ancient days, 
 "its reputation was speedily bruited abroad." But. Champignon's 
 unlucky ideas of opposition and rivalry led him into a sad dilemma, 
 which eventually caused him to take the high road for Brest, and 
 which has now procured for ourselves and our readers the pleasure 
 of his acquaintance. It appears that the worth)'- family of a grocer 
 in the Rue Montmorenci, having resolved to celebrate the birth-day 
 of some superannuated uncle, addressed a letter one morning by 
 the two-penny post to the master of the Cadran Bleu, informing 
 him that a party of five or six and twenty would dine at his house 
 on a certain day, and that he must prepare a sumptuous repast, at 
 which no luxury nor expense was to be grudged, so that the whole 
 affair might be on a magnificent scale. This welcome epistle en- 
 closed a bank-note of five hundred francs, or twenty pounds ster- 
 ling of British money. It happened, through the negligence of 
 the postman, that the letter fell into the hands of Champignon, who 
 instantly wrote a reply, in which he declared that the Cadran Bleu 
 had ceased to exist, that he had set up in the same line of business 
 at the Cadran Rouge, that the ancient proprietor of the Cadran Bleu 
 was a sleeping partner with him, and that if the family and its 
 guests did not express the most unequivocal approbation of the way 
 in which he would treat them, their money should be restored. 
 This daring cheat succeeded. Little did the honest grocer care 
 who " founded the feast,'' or at what house his friends partook of 
 it, so long as it was good ; and with regard to the perfection of the 
 meats, the pastry, the dessert, and the wine, there was not a single 
 dissentient voice. To be brief, the stratagem passed off so well, 
 that Champignon, emboldened by the event of his artifice, soon 
 adouted such various and crooked devices to abstract the custom ot 
 
of a FRENCH GENTLEMAN. 
 
 87 
 
 the Cadran Bleu for the benefit of the Cadran Rouge, that suspi- 
 cion became changed into conviction, doubts gave way to damning 
 proofs, and the unfortunate wretch was condemned to accompany 
 Pierre Belle-Rose and others on a small excursion to Brest. 
 
 Hitherto Champignon had not once opened his lips since the chain 
 left the walls of Bieetre : he maintained a strict silence, and ap- 
 peared to be engaged in deep thought. But his face did not wear 
 a very melancholy aspect ; neither did sighs nor tears betray anv 
 extraordinary decree of feeling as to his present situation. It was, 
 however, very evident that an important affair occupied his ima- 
 gination ; for never did Newton, when reflecting upon the centri- 
 petal and centrifugal properties of matter, appear more occupied 
 by intense cogitation, than did Champignon at this moment, He 
 seemed totally heedless of the weather, of his predicament, and of 
 the presence of his companions. 
 
 This uncommon taciturnity shortly attracted the attention of 
 Belle-Rose. 
 
 " Messieurs," said he, addressing those convicts who were near- 
 est, ** I dare swear this worthy gentleman, our honourable compa- 
 nion in misfortune," pointing to Champignon, "will enliven us 
 with a song; for he is apparently a vastly entertaining fellow, if 
 we may judge by his loquacity." 
 
 A loud and boisterous laugh at the ex-restaurateur s expense fol- 
 lowed this speech,— for the hyperbole, which represented his silence, 
 particularly pleased the galley-slaves. 
 
 " What "is his name ?" enquired Belle-Rose of a Gendarme, when 
 the mirth he had excited was somewhat subsided. 
 
 " Champignon," was the abrupt answer. 
 
 " Ah ! who calls?" exclaimed the object of the above interroga- 
 tion, starting quickly from his meditative mood. 
 
 " Thine equal," returned Belle-Rose, affecting solemnity. 
 
 " Thou may'st be mine equal in misfortune, but certainly not in 
 trussing a fowl," cried Champignon, peevishly. 
 
 " Sucre bleu ! if it be not my old acquaintance of the Cadran 
 Rouge !" ejaculated Belle-Rose, after a moment's hesitation. 
 
 " In what kitchen have we met? and what sauce have you in- 
 vented ?" asked the gastronomer. 
 
 " Look me well in the face, my friend — and then recollect the 
 gentleman who dined at your excellent house for a whole month, 
 about two years ago, and who forgot to settle his little account ere 
 his departure from Paris." 
 
 " And who was so fond of my beefsteak with tomata sauce?" 
 enquired Champignon eagerly. 
 
 " The same," answered Belle-Rose. 
 
 " He always would have champagne frappe a la glace,* would he 
 not ?" 
 
 " Precisely." 
 
 " And that individual is yourself?" persisted Champignon eagerly. 
 
 " My own identical self." 
 
 * Iced. 
 
3£ ALFRED ; OR ADVENTURES 
 
 " You have good taste in commanding a dinner, I opine." 
 
 44 And you in cooking it." 
 
 44 Still it is disheartening," observed Champignon, " not to be 
 paid for that which costs us occasionally much labour " 
 
 " It is not a part of my system to draw the purse-strings at every 
 instant," returned Belle-Rose gravely ; " particularly when one 
 finds a good-natured fellow like yourself, my dear Champignon, 
 who is so easy with his credit. I recollect full well how noble was 
 your conduct. Whenever you said a word about the bill, I praised 
 your mutton cutlets, said your vol-au-vent was incomparable, and 
 pledged my existence to the excellence of your wines ; upon which 
 you retreated to your kitchen with a complacent smile and an au- 
 dible chuckle. On those days I was served with a better dinner 
 ban ordinarily." 
 
 " One of the identical vols-au-vent, to which you allude, would 
 be no bad thing at this moment," cried Champignon. 
 
 " If wishing and having were synonyms," said Belle-Rose, " we 
 should all be immediately free and rich." 
 
 44 And seated at a dejeuner a la fourchette" added the gastro- 
 nomer. 
 
 44 Faith, would we ! eh, De Rosann ?" enquired Belle-Rose, fami- 
 liarly tapping the youth upon the shoulder. 
 
 Alfred replied in the affirmative. We have already stated, or 
 rather hinted, that certain interested motives, compelling the young 
 man to look beyond the present hour, induced him to be conde- 
 scending and civil to the experienced convict, from whose hardi- 
 hood and knowledge of the bagne he hoped to reap considerable 
 advantages. A longr pause ensued, which was only occasionally 
 interrupted by one of the chain humming a tune, or a Gendarme's 
 swearing most bitterly and energetically against the rain that still 
 continued to pour in torrents. 
 
 44 Pray what were you thinking of so earnestly ere now, Monsieur 
 Champignon?" enquired Belle-Rose, after a lengthened silence. 
 
 44 I was racking my brains. — By the bye, talking of brains, how 
 excellently were they served up at my house with the tete de veau 
 a la tortue ! " 
 
 44 Those were calf's brains." 
 
 44 Yes — yes ; but all brains are the same, you know." 
 
 44 Oh ! indeed — and those that you were racking," cried Belle- 
 Rose, with an ironical grin. 
 
 44 I was endeavouring to discover a new method of cooking a 
 mutton cutlet," answered Champignon seriously. 
 
 ' 4 And did you succeed?" 
 
 4 ' To my heart's content ; I shall call the viands thus arranged 
 coutelettes a la quadrille."* 
 
 44 Bravo !" cried Belle-Rose, laughing. <4 And does the Cadran 
 Rouge— that summum bonum of life — that king of restaurants— still 
 exist?" 
 
 4 ' Alas! no" — answered Champignon with a sigh. 
 
 * A modern French gourmand lately invented coutelettes a la mazurka. 
 
OF A FF.ENCH GENTLEMAN. 39 
 
 " And Madame Champignon V 
 
 " Cold in the earth as a kidney-potato," was the answer, accom- 
 panied by another sigh more deplorable than the former. 
 
 " That comely creature!" cried Belle-Rose, affecting a melan- 
 choly tone of voice, and assuming a comic-serious air, on purpose 
 to draw out the communicative gastronomer. 
 
 " She was, indeed, a rare morsel — plump as a partridge — lively 
 as an eel — and tender as a chicken!" exclaimed Champignon, 
 eulogising in his own peculiar style his departed consort. " Me- 
 seems that I see her still," he continued, with tears in his eyes — 
 " her sleeves tucked up above her elbows, beating eggs for my ome- 
 lettes aux fines herbes, or picking raisins for the plum-puddings 
 with which those gluttonous and coarse-feeding English delight to 
 gorge themselves." 
 
 " Doubtless 'twas a pretty spectacle," remarked Belle-Rose. 
 " In sooth was it — while her very mouth watered at the dainties 
 she so craftily prepared." 
 
 " Craftily indeed ! her reputation for disguising a cat en gibe- 
 lotte, and for serving up horse -flesh &s filet de boeuf saute, was pro- 
 verbial in the neighbourhood," returned Belle-Rose. 
 
 "Gad! you knew her well!" exclaimed the delighted Champignon, 
 not at all ashamed of this exposure of the arcana of his late kitchen. 
 '■• A dearer woman never entered a larder, nor served vm ordinaire 
 at thirty sous instead of seven-franc Bordeaux ! " 
 
 At this moment a terrible noise was heard at the entrance of the 
 barn that looked into a field adjoining the road, and half-a-dozen 
 cows, impelled from their pasturage by the violence of the storm., 
 and instinctively seeking the shed in which they were penned up 
 at night, rushed amongst the convicts and the Gendarmes in a 
 manner the most unceremonious. An universal shout on the part 
 of the besieged, at this rude attack, terrified the intrusive animals ; 
 and Champignon, who stood foremost, was overthrown in a heap 
 of manure. His wig fell off; and in stretching out his hand to 
 recover it, he caught hold of one of the cows' tails, and was 
 dragged several paces before he would relinquish his grasp, so per- 
 fectly was he overcome by fear as to be convinced in his own mind 
 that he held his wig. The convict, who was chained to Champig- 
 non, was dragged forward with him, as the fetters that attached 
 them together were not of an extraordinary length. The retreat of 
 the cows at last restored order; and Champignon's wig, discovered 
 amidst the same dirt into which he himself had fallen, was restored 
 in statu quo to its owner's head by the hand of Belle- Rose, while a 
 hearty laugh at the appearance of the ex-restaurateur, who was 
 disguised in filth that even clung to his perruc/ue, resounded from 
 every individual present save himself and De Rosann. 
 
 " Never mind," exclaimed Belle-Rose in a consolatory tone of 
 voice ; " the rain will wash it all off again." 
 
 " That's true," returned Champignon with a horrible grimace j 
 " but at present I feel like a perdrix aux choux." 
 
 In about a quarter of an hour the clouds cleared partially away 
 from the face of heaven — the sun broke through the opening va- 
 
TF^FO! On ADVrVTTTR-RS 
 
 pours — and tlie Gendarmes once more put their prisoners in motion. 
 A very short distance was to be completed ere they would arrive at 
 Pontchartrain, where a light repast of beans, bread, and water, 
 would be dealt out to those unhappy beings whom the laws of their 
 country had condemned to terrible penances and privations. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 UNCLE THOMAS. 
 
 Arrived at Pontchartrain, the prisoners were conducted to a mi- 
 serable inn or cabaret, where their meagre fare was speedily pro- 
 vided for them in the kitchen, while the Gendarmes sate down in 
 an ante-chamber to a substantial breakfast of cold meat and wine, 
 which latter is generally known in France by the name of pique f te. 
 I)e llosann rejected the odious pulse, but was fain to devour the 
 bread to repress the cravings of his appetite: Champignon en 
 quired if he could not be unchained from his comrade for a moment, 
 and be accommodated with a saucepan, &c, to cook his beans a la 
 maiti e d? hotel ; but on receiving an answer in the negative, he 
 remained sulkily silent : and Belle-Rose occupied himself with the 
 savoury spectacle of a couple of fowls that were roasting before the 
 fire, under the care of a little girl of about thirteen or fourteen years 
 of age, whom the Gendarmes called Felicite. 
 
 Presently a bright idea struck Belle-Rose. He beckoned the 
 girl towards him, and seizing an opportunity when the backs of 
 the Gendarmes were turned against the prisoners, he began the 
 following conversation in a low whisper. His companions saw 
 that a joke was in train ; and not only on account of Belle-Rose's 
 notorious facetious disposition, but also in strict observance of the 
 principles of mutual abettance and aid which were never swerved 
 from by them, they forbore to notice that any thing was going on. 
 
 " My little girl," said Belle-Rose, with a serious countenance, 
 " where are your father and mother?" 
 
 " Father 's dead — but mother 's alive," was the reply. 
 
 " Your father's dead? Alas! alas!" murmured the convict, 
 wiping his eyes : " and the good old lady — how is she ?" 
 
 " Is it mother that you mean?" 
 
 " Precisely." 
 
 " She's not very old." 
 
 « No — no; the young lady, I meant— I knew she was not old; 
 besides, your age proves that she is still in the bloom of youth." 
 
 • Mother is not a lady, neither; she keeps this inn. That's a 
 lady, who lives at the white chateau yonder." 
 
 " Well — well — your mother, my dear — how is she?" 
 
 " She's got nothing ailing her, except her corns, that I know of," 
 replied the girl ingenuously ; "and they didn't prevent her from 
 going to the neighbouring market this morning." 
 
 " And how far off is that market?" 
 
 *' About a league across the fields." 
 
OF A FRENCH GENTLEMAN. 41 
 
 "How unfortunate!" returned Belle-Rose, assuming a melan- 
 choly air. 
 
 " Why?" asked the girl, wondering what could be the meaning 
 of these multifarious interrogations. 
 
 " Why! my love — why ! Do you actually enquire why? — Have 
 vou never heard of a relative on your mother's side — ?" 
 " Him, who was a night-man, do you mean?" 
 " No — no," said Belle-Rose, with difficulty suppressing a smile. 
 " My mother's brother, then — to be sure." 
 
 " You have never yet seen him?" whispered Belle-Rose, fearful 
 of proceeding too precipitately. 
 
 " Not since I was five years old; he went as a soldier in 1819, I 
 have been told," returned the girl. 
 
 " Embrace me, Felicite — embrace me, dear child ! But no — 
 I do not wish that those men should know who I am." 
 " And who are you?" enquired Felicite in astonishment. 
 " Thine uncle!" answered Belle-Rose solemnly. 
 " My uncle! I always heard he was a fine tall man." 
 " Oh! yes — and so I was; until misery, my child, reduced me 
 to the condition in which you now see me." 
 
 " Does misfortune make people grow shorter, then?" asked the 
 girl, with the most deplorable ignorance depicted on her countenance. 
 " Certainly, niece! I became a foot and a half shorter in one 
 night through excess of woe." 
 
 " Ah ! that's what makes the hump-backed barber, who's dying 
 for love of mother, so little." 
 
 " To be sure it is. And do you not pity me?" 
 " Faith, do I! But how came you with those naughty men, my 
 dear uncle?" enquired Felicite, casting a fearful glance upon the 
 convicts. 
 
 " For doing a good action, my love." 
 " I thought only bad people were chained together?" 
 " O no — the good are often condemned unjustly, as I was," 
 continued Belle-Rose. " I saw two men fighting in Paris — I ran 
 up to separate them — they swore I was a thief, and that I intended 
 to take advantage of their situation to steal their watches ; I was 
 accordingly arrested and carried off to gaol. I was tried and 
 condemned !" 
 
 " Poor uncle ! and what is that handsome young man, who is 
 chained to you, to be punished for ?" asked the girl in as low a 
 whisper as possible, pointing towards De Rosann. 
 
 " For poisoning a gentleman and his wife, together with their 
 seventeen children," was the answer. 
 
 " And that fat old fellow ?" continued Felicite, alluding to 
 Champignon. 
 
 " For making pies of dead bodies." 
 
 " Good God ! with what a set of villains you are obliged to asso- 
 ciate, dear uncle.— But what can I do for you? I'm sure if 
 mother were here, she'd endeavour to make you comfortable ; and 
 those nasty beans, and that cold water and sour bread, are not 
 good for a person condemned to walk alL day lonp" in chains." 
 6 
 
42 ALFRED; OR ADVENTURES 
 
 " Kind creature ! I want for nothing." 
 " A glass of wine?" 
 
 " O no — I seldom touch any thing strong; my habits are 
 naturally temperate." 
 
 " A single glass — merely to recruit your spirits," persisted the 
 girl tenderly. 
 
 " Well — one glass, then — but only one." 
 
 Felicite was about to disappear, to seek the lower regions of the 
 house (or in other words the cellar), when Belle-Rose called 
 her back. 
 
 " My love — for whom are those roasted fowls ?" 
 " O we shall keep them till they're cold, for any one who 
 happens to drop in during the day, to take a hasty morsel." 
 
 "Alas! 'tis a long time since I tasted meat; and for a whole 
 
 fortnight I have eaten nothing at all," said the convict mournfully. 
 
 " Will you have those fowls ? for I'm certain that if mother were 
 
 here, she would willingly give them to you; and at her return from 
 
 market, she'll applaud me for what I am doing." 
 
 " Since you offer so kindly, I must e'en accept them," said 
 Belle-Rose, a smile of triumph playing upon his lips. " But, stay, 
 my love : do you wrap them up in paper, and I'll consign them to 
 my pockets on the sly ; for the Gendarmes must not be allowed to 
 catch a glimpse of our motions." 
 44 They are very severe, then ?" 
 
 " Yes — in the town they are obliged to be so : when no stranger's 
 eyes are upon us, we may do as we like." 
 
 Felicite soon robbed the spit of its savoury burden ; and having 
 enveloped the fowls in paper, she cunningly transferred them to 
 Belle-Rose's pockets, while his comrades turned away their eyes, 
 affecting the utmost ignorance of the whole transaction. 
 
 " What shall I say to mother for you, uncle?" enquired the girl, 
 when the above ceremony of conveyance was accomplished. 
 
 44 Say ! — say anything you like — that is, every thing kind and 
 tender, my love; and rest assured God will prosper you for what 
 you have done." 
 
 44 Do you really think God saw me give you those fowls, and 
 that he will bless me for it?" 
 
 44 Most certainly : and the more you give, the more he will favour 
 your undertakings through life. By the bye, my dear niece— on 
 second thoughts— since you are so kind — although my habits be 
 sober, and I rarely drink aught save pure spring water— still I may 
 as well accept a glass of wine — for my legs are weak, and my 
 strength is declining — and to-night I will remember you in my 
 prayers." 
 
 The wine was tendered with as good a grace as were the fowls ; 
 and Champignon undertook to carry a bottle, on a hint being given 
 him to that effect by Belle-Rose, whose pockets were already full. 
 
 In about a quarter of an hour the Gendarmes finished their last 
 glass of piquette, and pushed aside the cold beef off which they had 
 abundantly fed, although Champignon did mutter between his teeth 
 that it would have been better in africeau. They then called for 
 
F A FRENCH GENTLEMAN, 
 
 48 
 
 their cups of coffee — those universal concomitants to a Frenchman's 
 meals — and two little glasses of cognac. While they were dis- 
 cussing these supernumerary dainties, an elderly woman, whom 
 Felicite instantly called " Mother," entered the room. Having 
 respectfully saluted the Gendarmes, with whom she appeared to be 
 acquainted, and having cast a look of mingled commiseration and 
 contempt on the prisoners, she laid aside her cloak, deposited her 
 basket in a corner, passed into the kitchen, and enquired of her 
 daughter " Who had been at the house during her absence?" 
 
 " My dear mother, something very extraordinary has happened," 
 began Felicite, drawing her parent aside, and speaking in a whisper. 
 
 " Ah ! what is it, my child ?" 
 
 " Have you not often spoken of uncle Thomas, who's gone as a 
 soldier?" 
 
 " Certainly, child: proceed !" 
 
 " You know the fowls you left rne to roast?" 
 
 " They are cooked by this time — eh?'' 
 
 " O yes — and gone too." 
 
 " Gone! whither are they gone?" 
 
 " Into uncle Thomas's pockets." 
 
 " Uncle Thomas! has he been here?" 
 
 •' And a bottle of that wine," continued Felicite, " which stands 
 in the corner of the cellar next the stairs, and into which we put the 
 logwood and brandy last month, you know." 
 
 •' The girl's mad! What has all this to do with uncle Thomas?" 
 
 " Only that the wine's gone along with the fowls. 1 ' 
 
 During this brief discourse, Felicite cast many knowing looks 
 towards Belle-Rose, who made the most horrible grimaces, with a 
 thousand shakes of the head and warnings of the hands, intended 
 as signs to induce the girl to silence. She, however, mistook them 
 for expressions of gratitude, and persisted in returning all that 
 dumb show with sundry significant winks, w r hile Belle-Rose was 
 determined not to pay for the fowls, whatever might be the result, 
 and Champignon watched the extraordinary pantomime with eyes 
 of the most stupid astonishment, being quite decided in his own 
 mind that their ignorance how to cook some dish was the cause of 
 the whole. 
 
 " Why didn't uncle Thomas stay to take some soup with us, 
 Felicite?" inquired the mother, still in a whisper. 
 
 " So I dare say he will, if the Gendarmes allow him," was the 
 prompt reply. 
 
 " How — speak — girl!" 
 
 i( Dear uncle! he's amongst those convicts." 
 
 " Amongst the convicts!" shrieked the poor woman aloud, to 
 the astonishment of all present, save herself, her daughter, and 
 Belle-Rose. 
 
 " Yes — yes," cried Felicite in the same audible tone of voice, 
 forgetful of Belle-Rose's injunction to secresy, and heedless of the 
 continued signs he was making, like the telegraph on the towers of 
 Saint Sulpice, or the superb dwelling of his Excellency the Minister 
 of Marine, in Paris. 
 
44 ALFRED; OR ADVENTURES 
 
 During the confabulation between the mother and daughter 
 which we have so faithfully related, Champignon's ear caught the 
 word volatile. We have before stated that he had already made up 
 his mind as to the nature and origin of the said discourse, to which 
 the girl's repeated nods and winks gave an additional air of mys- 
 tery. He therefore thought it was now high time to interfere ; and 
 stepping forward as far as the chains would permit him, for his 
 comrade would not move an inch, he said in a dulcet tone of 
 voice, " Madame, I think I can enlighten you relative to the object 
 of your discussion." 
 
 " Far&ier exclaimed the landlady; " that's exactly what I want. 
 I and my daughter are talking about a couple of fowls — " 
 
 " Ah ! ah !" interrupted Champignon with a complacent smile : 
 " I'm at home there !" 
 
 " The devil you are! and where are they?" 
 
 «< I thought— O I find I am— that is," stammered Cham- 
 pignon, with a disconsolate look, '« I — I— am a little — mis- 
 taken." 
 
 " Come— come!" cried the good woman: "no equivocation, 
 my worthy fellow." 
 
 " If I be in the wrong, Madame," said Champignon meekly, 
 « I am willing to make every apology." < _ 
 
 '" Apology— apology ! The greedy dog !" screamed the infuriate 
 landlady; and rushing upon the gastronomer, like a lioness loosened 
 from her cage, she soon left the traces of her nails upon his two 
 cheeks, tore his wig from his head, and broke the bottle of wine in 
 the scuffle. The precious juice drenched Champignon's small- 
 clothes throughout, and ran upon the floor in many meandering 
 streams. This lamentable sight only irritated the already out- 
 rageous termagant the more; and God knows how the conflict 
 might have ended with regard to Champignon, had it not been 
 interrupted by the timely aid of the Gendarmes. 
 
 " Is that the thief, Felicite V shrieked the landlady, pointing to 
 Champignon, when she had partially recovered breath. 
 
 ".Thief! No — mother: that's the poor man who is condemned 
 for having made pies of dead bodies." 
 
 A roar of laughter followed this declaration, while Champignon, 
 stupid with astonishment, rage, and terror, could not find words to 
 justify himself against so awful an accusation. . . , „ 
 
 " In the name of God, explain these mysteries, Felicite, cried 
 the v exasperated parent, when silence was again established. 
 
 ""Mother," replied the girl, " I told you uncle Thomas took the 
 fowls, which I gave him ; and he is amongst those prisoners." 
 
 " Where where — O where is my poor brother ?" whimpered 
 
 the landlady, her wrath subsiding into tears. 
 
 •' There!" answered Felicite, pointing to Belle-Rose. 
 " That my brother Thomas ! that your uncle !'' cried the woman 
 in a contemptuous tone of voice. " No— no : Thomas never was 
 such a mannikin as that !" 
 
 " He grew a foot and a half shorter in one night, mamma ! 
 
 " Beo-one, insolence !" roared the infuriate mother, dealing a 
 
OF A FRENCH GENTLEMAN. 45 
 
 tremendous box on the ears to her daughter, who ran out of the 
 room weeping bitterly. 
 
 "You cruel old jade!" cried Belle-Rose, really pitying the 
 unfortunate girl. " I deceived your poor Felicite," continued the 
 convict, " got the roast fowls from her — and ate them — " 
 
 "You have eaten two roast fowls to your own share!" thundered 
 the irritated landlady, while the Gendarmes, who held her, did not 
 attempt to restrain their laughter. 
 
 " I and that gentleman," returned Belle-Rose, pointing to 
 Champignon, who was more thunderstruck at this second than at 
 the first accusation thus brought against him within a quarter of 
 an hour. 
 
 " If that be the case, my good woman, it is useless to grumble," 
 said a Gendarme : "the English have a proverb to the effect ' that 
 the least said, the soonest mended.' " 
 
 " That's no consolation for the loss of my fowls," muttered the 
 hag, as the chain moved out of the kitchen, attended by the guard. 
 
 " Good day, dear sister," cried Belle-Rose with a laugh :°" and 
 never forget brother Thomas. Felicite's kindness has saved me 
 the trouble of changing a Napoleon." 
 
 The wrathful landlady's response was wafted to the winds of 
 heaven, unheard, unrecked ; and Belle- Rose amused his companions 
 with a recital of the stratagem by which he procured the dainties 
 that had caused so much disturbance. The Gendarmes cared but 
 little for these kinds of freaks on the part of their prisoners; parti- 
 cularly as they were so frequent as to repel almost the possibility 
 of entirely suppressing them. De Rosann ventured a forced laugh 
 at the low cheat ; and Champignon made a remark expressive of 
 his wonder that Belle-Rose did not ask Felicite for water-cresses 
 to serve up with the fowl : he moreover added that he had a slight 
 recollection of having read, in his youth, a tale about a country 
 where there were no days, but all nights, as the book itself was 
 called Arabian Nights— Arabia being a tract of land bordering on 
 Poland— in which tale there was mention made of a wonderful 
 lamp, and a man's passing himself off as a boy's uncle, or some- 
 thing of the kind : he also remembered that the same country was 
 famous for ragouts, and concluded his clear and comprehensive 
 elucidations with an equally plain description of the way to di 
 those dishes a la Fran^aise. 
 
 .ress 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 THE PASSPORTS. 
 
 It was already eight o'clock in the evening when the chain entered 
 the streets of Verneuil. A tedious day's march, rendered more 
 fatiguing than usual by the muddy state of the roads, and the vacil- 
 lation of the weather, which had repeatedly changed from storm to 
 sunshine, and from sunshine to storm alternately, as if the whole 
 sway of nature were submitted to the caprice of a woman's mind— 
 the tedious day's march, I say, was terminated at the gates of the 
 
45 ALFRED ; Oil ADVENTURES 
 
 prison wherein the convicts were destined to pass the night. The 
 massive doors were speedily opened by a sulky-looking gaoler, 
 whose stern countenance only relaxed into an expression of civility 
 when the chain had entered the court-yard of the prison, and the 
 Gendarmes had closed the rear. 
 
 The convicts were detached from each other, and conducted by 
 twos, or threes, or fours, to different cachets, according to the size 
 of those dungeons. Some meagre soup, mouldy bread, parched 
 peas, and cold water, were then distributed amongst them ; and the 
 doors of their cells closed upon them for the night. 
 
 It happened that De Rosann, Belle-Rose, and Champignon were 
 confined together in the same hole ; and they all three congratulated 
 themselves on this circumstance. De Rosann was pleased, because 
 he had become accustomed to the garrulity of his comrade ; Belle- 
 Rose was himself delighted that chance had thus thrown them toge- 
 ther, as he intended to make use of De Rosann's experience at the 
 bagne to farther his own plans of escape; and Champignon preferred 
 being locked up with one, who, having tasted his dishes at the Cadran 
 Rouge, could compliment him upon their excellence. 
 
 " But," thought our hero within himself, " how different are 
 these from former times ! Instead of domestics to pamper my 
 appetite with a variety of luxuries, a sulky gaoler flings me a morsel 
 of bread, as if I were a dog ; damp walls replace the gorgeous cur- 
 tains that were drawn around me at night : coarse straw supports 
 my aching head, beneath which downy pillows once were laid ; 
 rogues, murderers, thieves, are my companions — my associates. 
 Oh ! Eloise — Eloise ! didot thou now see thy still faithful Alfred !" 
 
 A violent flood of tears interrupted those bitter reflections ; and 
 Belle-Rose, instead of laughing at that which the other convicts 
 would have called puerile grief, endeavoured with rude consolation 
 to compose the feelings of the unhappy young man. 
 
 " Come, my dear De Rosann, don't be chicken-hearted," cried 
 he ; " if you will but follow my advice, when we are together at 
 Brest, you shall soon have the clef des chomps* at your disposal. 
 Only half an hour ago, as we were standing in the yard to be 
 unchained, while those cursed Gendarmes levelled their carabines 
 at us, I noticed, amongst a groupe of individuals in prison for want 
 of passports, a person whom I knew at the galleys at Toulon, and 
 who escaped with me." 
 
 " Did he recognise you ?" inquired Champignon. 
 " Recognise me ! Parbleu, did he," returned Belle-Rose empha- 
 tically ; " he owes me an eternal debt of gratitude." 
 
 " Ah ! how so ? did you cook him a dinner ?" asked the curious 
 gastronomer. 
 
 " No — but I saved him from the galleys by knocking him on the 
 head, and leaving him for dead," was the reply. 
 
 " I have done the same to many a rabbit," said Champignon 
 complacently, " although not for the same purpose." 
 
 * Literally, "the key of the country;" metaphorically used for "persona) 
 freedom." 
 
OP A FRENCH GENTI,ev\n 47 
 
 " Well — if you can manage to hold your tongue for a minute, I 
 will tell you how I rendered so essential a service to Auguste 
 Ledoux. You know that he and I escaped from Toulon together ; 
 but you do not know that when we got into the open fields, two 
 Gendarmes pursued us on horse-back, ventre a terre.* We led them 
 a rare dance amongst the woods, &c, till Auguste could not move 
 another inch. What was to be done ? the police-officers were close 
 upon us : only one moment remained for reflection — but that mo- 
 ment was enough for me. I unburdened my mind to Auguste, 
 who, however, did not at all relish my scheme. That was no- 
 thing — I knew it was for his good— so I cut short his objections 
 by putting it in practice, and knocking him down with all my 
 force. He lay senseless upon the grass — I rifled his pockets, 
 and turned them inside out ; and then ran away as fast as my 
 legs could carry me. It all happened as I foresaw. The Gen- 
 darmes wasted their time over Auguste, whom they firmly be- 
 lieved I had murdered and plundered ; and when I was well 
 concealed in the wood, they resumed their search after me, in- 
 tending to take charge of the corpse — as they supposed it to be- 
 on their return. But all their cunning was ineffectual ; they 
 passed my hiding-place about a thousand times — and late at 
 night gave up their task to return home. Meantime Auguste 
 had come to himself, and had also betaken to the woods : every 
 thing thus turning out as I anticipated. In the course of the 
 next day we encountered each other — he embraced me as his 
 saviour, and in less than a fortnight we dined together at Verey's." 
 " And pray what did you have for dinner ? " inquired Champig- 
 non, in a deliberate tone of voice. 
 
 " Sacre nom de dieu ! do you think I recollect those kinds of 
 trifles?" answered Belle-Rose. " But talking of dinners puts 
 me in mind of a certain couple of fowls, which, if you have no 
 objection, messieurs, we will divide forthwith." 
 
 By this time De Rosann's mind was partially composed, and 
 he resolved not to forget in future those principles of philoso- 
 phical resignation which he had before determined to adopt. 
 Belle-Rose felicitated him with much warmth and apparent sin- 
 cerity on this happy change. He repeated his arguments on the 
 necessity of maintaining one's courage in hours of difficulty and 
 distress ; he awakened fresh hopes in Alfred's breast relative to 
 an escape, and insisted on his partaking of the dainties which 
 were so cunningly procured at Pontchartrain. 
 
 The few rays of light that struggled against obscurity in the 
 cachot, where this festivity took place, were allowed to enter by 
 means of a small square trap, or guichet, which had been per- 
 forated in the massive door for the express purpose ; and as the 
 orb of day gradually descended towards the western horizon, the 
 gloom increased within that dreary dungeon. Presently a total 
 darkness enveloped the three prisoners, just as their savoury 
 meal was concluded ; and Champignon — having in vain regretted 
 
 * Synonymous with " at full gallop." 
 
48 ALFRED; OR ADVENTURES 
 
 his inability, for want of proper utensils, to hash the remainder of 
 the fowls at the next morning's breakfast— stretched himself to 
 sleep upon the straw: dreaming of kitchens, of saucepans, of 
 viands, and of costly dishes. O that man were as happy in 
 reality as he often is in imagination ! Alas ! that the dreams of 
 riches make the waking truths of poverty the more severe ! 
 
 A solemn silence reigned throughout the prison, only interrupted 
 at long intervals by the barking of the gaoler's dog, or the clanking 
 of his keys as he made his occasional rounds ; and then the rays of 
 his lanthorn illuminated the cachot for a moment as he passed by, 
 and disappeared as suddenly, to leave the inmates of that dungeon 
 plunged in even darker gloom than before. De Rosann and Belle- 
 Rose could not sleep so soon as their companion ; but they endea- 
 voured to compose themselves to slumber, and therefore refrained 
 from conversation. The ideas of the former were reflected back to 
 other times, when fortune smiled upon him, and life's prospective 
 joys were sweet — when opulence, friendship, society, and love, were 
 present, to smooth his path through the world, and rob his pillow 
 of anxiety — when the dreams of his youth were not fraught with 
 bitterness, nor his contemplation with care— and when his brow 
 was unclouded, his footstep free, and his bearing proud.. He had 
 that morning only, bade a mental adieu to the fairest girl beneath 
 the canopy of heaven — he had seen her pale cheek, her dishevelled 
 hair, and a tear upon that cheek— and he knew that the despair 
 pictured on her angelic countenance, and the glistening tears, were 
 for him. But he mistrusted not her fidelity — he knew hei troth 
 was sacred— he could not for an instant doubt the veracity of her 
 noble and enthusiastic mind. Pore as she was beautiful, affec- 
 tionate as she was pure, ignorant as to the meaning of her love, 
 knowing only that it existed, and that De Rosann was its object, 
 unchano-in^, unchangeable — Eloise was as free from those feminine 
 vacillations, unworthy caprices, and capability of change, as the 
 seraphim, which, according to Mahommedan mythology, stand 
 around Allah's throne. And when she sighed " Farewell ! " to 
 him in his prison — when with agonizing feelings, with a heart 
 almost broken, and with unutterable anguish rending her inmost 
 soul, she was torn away from his last embrace, the night before the 
 fatal morn on which the chain of convicts left Bicetre — she be 
 trayed that deeply-rooted affection, that permanent love, th; 
 ineffable attachment, which no time could change, no number 01 
 years obliterate, no circumstance destroy. This De Rosann well 
 knew ; and the reflection soothed him in his dungeon. 
 
 An hour or more had elapsed since the worthy gastronomer'j 
 eyes were temporarily closed against his misfortunes, when sud- 
 denly a low voice at the guichet called " Belle-Rose ! Belle- Rose ! " 
 
 "Who speaks?" inquired the convict; "was it you, De 
 Rosann ? " 
 
 " Belle-Rose— my friend — listen ! " continued the voice. 
 
 " Assuredly it is the ghost of my grandfather," cried Pierre ; 
 " and if so, it would be as well to arouse this lubberly, snoring 
 kitchen-fed glutton, to make mince- meat of him." 
 
ALFRED: OR ADVENTURES 4.9 
 
 " Nonsense, my dear Belle-Rose/' exciaimea tne voice ; " looK 
 towards the guichet" 
 
 " Nothing is more easy," replied the convict j " but as for seeing 
 any thing, that is quite different." 
 
 " Well, well ; 'tis I — your friend." 
 
 " And who the devil is my frend ?" 
 
 " Auguste Ledoux, that was," said the voice. 
 
 " And what is he now ?" asked Belle-Rose. 
 
 " Auguste Leblond," was the answer. 
 
 " The ship is always the same, I hope, notwithstanding the change 
 of colours," remarked Belle-Rose, coolly. 
 
 " Precisely," said the man at the guichet. 
 
 " But wherefore another name amongst friends?" 
 
 " My dear Belle-Rose, I serve a good cause, and you must join 
 me. As a proof of my gratitude towards an old friend, and of my 
 unalterable principles, I am now about to render you a most im- 
 portant service. Who is with you?" 
 
 " We are three." 
 
 "Who are they?" 
 
 " Friends. One is a drunken cook, fast asleep ; the other is a 
 young man whom you may trust." 
 
 " Is he Alfred de Rosann?" inquired Leblond, hastily. 
 
 " The same," replied Belle-Rose, while the youth's heart beat 
 quickly. 
 
 " Thank God! then my task is easily and soon done !" exclaimed 
 the mysterious individual at the guichet. 
 
 " Do you know, Leblond — " began Belle-Rose. 
 
 "What?" 
 
 " That I begin to think you are talking infernal nonsense," added 
 the convict, coolly. 
 
 " Patience — patience, I implore ; and you will be convinced of 
 my wish to serve your interests." 
 
 " Well, then, I will not interrupt you." 
 
 " Of course," said Leblond, in a whisper still, " you do not 
 intend to remain long at Brest ? " 
 
 " Not longer than you and I did at Toulon," was the significant 
 answer. 
 
 " You must escape with De Rosann, my dear Belle-Rose ; it is 
 absolutely necessary that you should aid each other." 
 
 " It was already my intention," returned Pierre. 
 
 " That is as it should be, and all will go on well. Here are two 
 passports for you, signed at the Prefecture de Police at Paris, and 
 made out for Brest, St. Malo, or Havre-de-grace;" and with 
 these words Leblond threw a paper parcel into the cachot. 
 
 " Mille tonne 'r -res /" exclaimed Belle-Rose, in the greatest, pos- 
 sible astonishment ; " how did you procure these documents ?" 
 
 "That must remain a mystery. To-morrow morning, when you 
 read them by daylight, the correctness of their contents will prove 
 the truth of what I have already affirmed relative to my wish and 
 power to serve you : it will moreover help to convince you of the 
 necessity of following the line of conduct I shall now chalk out." 
 7 
 
50 OF A TRENCH CENTLEMAtf. 
 
 4< Bui we shall bo searched at Brest," interrupted Belle-Rose, 
 mourn folly, " and our passports will be taken from us." 
 
 " All that is guarded against," said Leblond, somewhat impa- 
 tiently. " You will each put your passport in your left hand breast 
 pocket : when the hardy turnkey at the bagne is examining you, 
 whisper in his ear the words ' La France! 7 and he will not touch 
 that pocket. The same turnkey, whose name is Plombier, will aid 
 your escape, which, when effected, must be directed to an useful 
 purpose. So soon as you are free, proceed — separately or together, 
 it is the same thing — to one of the towns for which your passports 
 are signed, and cause them to be countersigned for Paris ; then 
 push boldly forward towards the capital. On your arrival, hasten 
 to the Rue de la Chanoinesse, in the Island of the City, close by the 
 cathedral of Notre-Dame, and at Number — , inquire for me by the 
 name of Auguste Leblond." 
 
 " And to what is all that to lead ?" asked Belle-Rose. 
 
 " To raise your fallen fortunes," was the reply ; " and," he 
 added, with a peculiar emphasis, " to restore to wealth, honour, 
 rank, and love, those who have been harshly dealt with." 
 
 The words went like balm to the heart of De Rosann. 
 
 " I left Paris this morning at day-break," continued Leblond, 
 hastily ; " my object was to fall m with Alfred de Rosann and 
 Pierre Belle-Rose. I arrived at this town, purposely boasted at a 
 public-house that I had no passport, was arrested, and, as I antici- 
 pated, was brought to prison. Now that my task is completed, I 
 shall produce my papers to-morrow morning, say that I thought 
 I had left them behind the day before, and thus procure my liberty."' 
 
 " But how are you free to walk about the prison at your dis- 
 cretion ?" asked Belle-Rose, scarcely knowing what to think of all 
 that Leblond had told him. 
 
 " Only felons are locked up," replied the singular individual, 
 whose behaviour was so deeply enveloped in mystery. " But I 
 must now retire : good night — and remember the magic words 
 ' La France /' " 
 
 Belle- Rose would have interrogated him farther ; but the sounds 
 of retreating steps showed that Leblond had withdrawn from the 
 guichet. Some minutes elapsed before either he or De Rosann 
 opened his lips. At length Belle-Rose broke the silence. 
 
 " Ledoux, or Leblond, or whatever his name may be, is one of 
 three things," said he. 
 
 " Which are they ?" asked De Rosann. 
 
 " He is either an infernal liar— an arrant madman — or a deuced 
 clever fellow." 
 
 " There was too much system in all he said, besides the useless- 
 ness of deceiving us," said Alfred, 4 ' to make me think him a mad- 
 man or a liar ; but to-morrow morning will prove beyond a doubt 
 the truth or falsity of his assertions." 
 
 *< Yes ; and in the meantime let us search for the passports," 
 returned Belle-Rose. " I have them," he added, in about a 
 minute ; " pray to God, De Rosann — if thou can'st pray — that 
 they may be genuine ! And if they be, then is Leblond's power 
 great indeed; for I am almost certain that Prince Polignac 
 
ALFRED; OR ADVENTURES 51 
 
 himself could scarcely procure such documents from the Prefec- 
 ture de Police ." 
 
 " Till to-morrow, then, lay aside all conjecture ; and endeavour 
 to snatch a few hours of repose," cried our hero. 
 
 " Good night, De Rosann ; and, once more — may fortune favour 
 our undertakings!" rejoined Belle-Rose. 
 
 " Amen ! " 
 
 And the cachot was wrapt in silence. 
 
 It was not until a very late hour that Do Rosann sank into 
 an uneasy slumber ; but he awoke early the following morning, 
 refreshed and comparatively in good spirits. He recalled his 
 scattered ideas, and endeavoured to separate the real from the 
 imaginary. Amongst the latter was for a moment ranked every 
 thing connected with Leblond, till a little mature reflection as- 
 sured him of the truth of that individual's appearance at the 
 guichet, and brought to his mind the substance of what he had 
 said. Belle-Rose soon awoke, and the passports were speedily 
 produced, while Champignon still remained locked in the em- 
 braces of Sleep. The anxious eyes of the two prisoners greedily 
 sought the contents of the papers ; and their hearts leapt within 
 them as they noticed in the dim twilight that these documents 
 were really genuine ! The very descriptions of their persons 
 were correct to a nicety ; and on the back was the regular en- 
 dorsement and the red stamp of the Prefecture de Police. The 
 names alone were changed ; De Rosann was thenceforth to be 
 called Jules de Remonville — and Belle-Rose, Henri Mercier. 
 We shall, however, continue to designate them by their real ap- 
 pellations, to prevent confusion in the progress of our tale. 
 
 Scarcely had De Rosann and Belle-Rose congratulated them- 
 selves on the genuineness of their papers, and consequently on the 
 unlimited confidence to be now attached to Leblond's assertions, 
 when Champignon began to give evident signs of an inclination to 
 shake off his slumbers, by yawning, and stretching out his arms in 
 a most unceremonious manner. The sun had not yet risen ; and 
 the twilight entered but partially into the narrow cell, barely suf- 
 ficient to allow Alfred and his comrade to peruse their passports a 
 few minutes before Champignon awoke. The gastronomer inquired 
 what o'clock it was ; and on being told that in a quarter of an hour 
 the Gendarmes would call them to renew their march, he declared 
 his intention of rising and washing himself. 
 
 " As for rising," said Belle-Rose, " that is not very diflicult, 
 seeing you have no bed-clothes to kick off ; but as for washing 
 yourself, otherwise than at the pump, when the gaoler opens the 
 doors, you need not flatter yourself you will have the opportunity." 
 
 " I beg your pardon," returned Champignon, gently ; " may I 
 never spit another partridge if there be not a species of wooden 
 trough or ewer in this corner." 
 
 " Ah ! there really is something," remarked Belle-Rose, care- 
 lessly. 
 
 " Tis as I tell you," muttered Champignon ; and he reached 
 forward his hand to grasp the utensil, when the machine snapped 
 
52 OF A FRENCH GENTLEMAN- 
 
 with a rattle, and the gastronomer gave a terrible cry, as if he were 
 bitten by a serpent. 
 
 " Diuble ! " exclaimed Belle-Rose : " what's the matter now ? * 
 
 ° My hand ! my hand ! " yelled Champignon. 
 
 " As I am a living being he has caught his arm in a rat-trap, " 
 said De Rosann, hastening to disengage the ex-restaurateur s mem- 
 ber from so ignoble a jeopardy. 
 
 " Thank God I" ejaculated Champignon, when he had regained 
 the free exercise of his hand ; " these digits were meant to pluck 
 partridges and pigeons, and not to be caught in rat-traps. A man 
 may as soon think of finding a poulet truffe on a ploughman's 
 table, as a wash-hand-stand in a cachot." 
 
 " When you leave the galleys, Champignon, you must give lec- 
 tures on gastronomy," said Belle-Rose. 
 
 " You are laughing at me, my friend ; but I would wager a mess 
 of pieds de mouton against a plate of soupe maigre that you do not 
 know how many different dishes there are in the French kitchen — 
 that is, in how many different ways you may dress veal, beef, 
 mutton, pork, game, poultry, fish, and eggs." • 
 
 " Fifty, I suppose," returned Pierre, carelessly. 
 
 " Three hundred and sixty-five !" cried Champignon, in a tone 
 of triumph. 
 
 " And your cotelettes a la quadrille form the three hundred and 
 sixty-sixth," added Belle-Rose. 
 
 The arrival of the gaoler to unlock the dungeon-door put an end 
 to this colloquy, much to the regret of Champignon, who was 
 about to commence a long harangue on the excellence of his new 
 discovery, and the importance of it to the culinary world. Through 
 the aid of some money which Belle-Rose produced from the purse 
 he had obtained at Versailles, a comfortable breakfast was pro- 
 cured for the three prisoners by the avaricious gaoler, whose coun- 
 tenance wore a smile or a frown according to the means of those in 
 his custody. De Rosann ate but little : Leblond's timely assistance 
 and mysterious aid had effected so deep an impression on his mind, 
 and had awakened such a variety of conflicting ideas in his bosom, 
 that resignation and patience had totally given way to wild and 
 burning hope. This was not the case with Belle-Rose : much as he 
 was rejoiced at the felicitous interference of Leblond, and aware as 
 lie was of the importance of the service rendered by him, without 
 which no escape could ever have been rendered effectual, — he still 
 regarded all things with his usual imperturbable coolness and 
 serenity of disposition ; while Champignon fell tooth and nail upon 
 the provisions supplied by the gaoler, muttering between his teeth 
 an almost inaudible regret that the fricandeau de veau had not 
 been served up with oseille* 
 
 When this meal was concluded, the convicts were summoned, one 
 and all, to the court-yard, where pump- water was at the disposal 
 of those who were anxious to perform their ablutions ere their de- 
 parture — an opportunity of cleanliness that none rejected. Belle- 
 Rose looked around to catch a glimpse of Auguste Leblond, but 
 
 Sorrel. 
 
ALFRED; OR ADVENTURES 53 
 
 ne was not tnere ; and Pierre dared not exeite suspicion by inquir- 
 ing of the gaoler it' he had been liberated. 
 
 The clanking chains were once more attached to the convicts as 
 before ; and the squadron speedily resinned its march, under the 
 escort of another detachment of Gendarmes. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 THE ARRIVAL. 
 
 It would be encroaching on the reader's time and patience, mi- 
 nutely to detail every event that occurred during the march of the 
 convicts. Suffice it to say, that Belle-Rose played his usual tricks 
 in the various public- houses at which they stopped ; that De Ro- 
 sann kept up his spirits with sanguine hope ; and that Champignon 
 vaunted his gastronomical acquirements whenever an opportunity 
 presented itself. The other convicts amused themselves with licen- 
 tious conversation, and wiled away the tedious hours with ribald 
 songs, or disgusting anecdotes of immorality and misdeed ; and 
 not unfrequently did they disguise their meaning in a certain slang, 
 called argot, which is a common language at the bagne, but is alto- 
 gether unintelligible to those who are not initiated in the mysteries 
 of that school. We will not, however, inflict any of it upon the 
 reader : on the contrary, we will pass over the remainder of the 
 journey in silence, and resume our narrative at the moment when 
 the massive gates of the prison at Brest closed upon the chain, 
 which was now arrived at the place of its destination. 
 
 It must not be thought, however, that the galleys of France re- 
 semble the hulks at Portsmouth or Plymouth : years have passed 
 away since the convicts dwelt in ships at Toulon, Brest, and Roche- 
 fort ; and spacious prisons, built near the harbours, have become 
 the receptacles of those who still bear the name of galley-slaves. 
 In courts of justice the words galeres and galeriens are now used 
 but seldom ; they are almost obsolete in the mouths of the Procu- 
 reurs du Roi ; and travaux forces and formats have replaced them. 
 
 The town clock had struck five in the afternoon of the 5th of 
 May, when the chain entered the bague of Brest; and a strict per- 
 sonal examination instantly commenced. One by one the convicts 
 were submitted to the scrutiny of an old man in a little office or 
 cabinet. There they were stripped to the skin, and not a crevice 
 of their garments escaped the most minute investigation. When 
 this ceremony was accomplished, they were conducted to the baths, 
 and thence each to a cachot for the night; and on the following 
 morning they were supplied with new suits of clothes, their own 
 being taken away to give place to garments made of cloth of two 
 different colours. 
 
 Belle-Rose entered the cabinet before De Rosann, and was in- 
 stantly requested by the old man to divest himself of his apparel. 
 
 " Since you are determined to see me like Adam," said the face- 
 tious Pierre, " I must e'en obey : there is my jacket." 
 
 " You have no files — no watch-springs — concealed herein?" en- 
 
 ■ 
 
54 OF A FRENCH GENTLEMAN. 
 
 quired the old man, while he plunged his hands into the pockets 
 with a care that showed the little reliance he meant to place on the 
 answer which the convict was certain to return to his question. 
 
 u No — but I have an important document in my possession, and 
 I suppose the law does not authorize you to take it away from me." 
 
 " Nous verrons" returned the old man, fishing out the paper, 
 and putting on his spectacles to examine it. " 'Tis a good and 
 genuine passport, my lad," he added, casting a searching glance at 
 Belle-Rose ; " marked with the regular stamp— duly signed — and 
 endorsed. And the personal description too," he continued lei- 
 surely, " what says that? Age — figure — hair, dark — forehead, 
 high — eyebrows, black — nose — mouth — chin — eh ! eh ! all right to 
 a nicety : and the name, Henri Mercier. — My good fellow," said 
 the old man abruptly, " how came you by this passport?" 
 
 u My days are devoted to the service of La France" replied 
 Belle- Rose boldly, but with a partial anxiety ; for his future fate 
 depended upon the veracity of Leblond's mysterious statements — 
 and that veracity was now put to a certain proof. He felt like a 
 man standing on the verge of a vast precipice, with an avalanche 
 above his head, and a torrent beneath his feet — expecting succour, 
 and yet aware of the possibility, or even the probability of its fail- 
 ure. It was the most important moment of his life — and he knew 
 it to be such. The old man hesitated — gazed at the passport, then 
 at Belle- Rose, then at the passport again ; and, perhaps fearful 
 that hazard alone might have dictated the convict's reply — or per- 
 haps to make doubly sure — he seemed to wait for him to say some 
 thing more. 
 
 Belle- Rose's heart sank within him ; — he feared it was all over — 
 that Leblond had deceived him — that his sanguine anticipations 
 were vain. But he resolved to be convinced at once ; and there- 
 fore, without mystery or disguise, fixing a penetrating glance upon 
 the old man, and drawing himself up to his full height, to throw as 
 much importance as possible into his attitude, he pronounced in a 
 firm tone the words " la France." 
 
 " I understand you — 'tis well," muttered Plombier : " the exam- 
 ination is finished. You will keep that document," he added, re- 
 turning the passport to the hand of Belle-Rose, " until an opportu- 
 nity shall render it useful to you." 
 
 " And when may that be?" enquired Belle-Rose, delighted at the 
 turn which the mysterious affair had taken. 
 
 " As speedily as possible. You may rely upon my aid." 
 
 " You are yourself, then, enlisted in the service?" 
 
 " In what service ?" enquired Plombier, feigning astonishment. 
 
 " In some service, evidently," returned Belle-Rose. 
 
 " My friend," said the old man, in a firm but kind tone, " do 
 not seek to penetrate mysteries as yet unveiled but to few. It is 
 true I am in a certain service — and you must embrace the same : 
 but perhaps you may never know by whom, nor for what, you will 
 have been employed. The mighty source of a thousand intrigues, 
 in comparison with which the circumstances of your adventure are 
 nothing," continued Plombier solemnly, " remains concealed from 
 our eyes ; and God only knows for what purposes we are reserved. 
 

 
 
 spy 
 
 Y- ' - ' 
 
 
ALFRED; OR ADVENTURES 55 
 
 One thing is, however, certain, that those who are faithful and dili- 
 gent in an unknown cause, are well remunerated; and promises 
 alone are not all the bait that is held out. Be secret, therefore, 
 and wary; a single word to your comrades — and you never quit 
 these walls alive. I tremble and am astonished at the same time, 
 when 1 reflect on the vastness of that invisible power, which can 
 watch over and control you, me, and thousands of others, and which 
 yet appears to be an airy nothing, although vested with so terrible 
 a reality of might and capacity." 
 
 " May I not enquire — " 
 
 " Nay — no more," interrupted Plombier, gently : " I am nearly 
 as ignorant as yourself; 'tis an extensive free-masonry, which 
 time will probably develop. — Adieu — and when you meet me in 
 the bagne, whither my duties often lead me, take no notice of me." 
 
 Belle-Rose would have questioned the old man farther ; but that 
 venerable personage took him by the shoulders and gently pushed 
 him out of the cabinet, whither De Rosann was almost immediately 
 summoned to undergo the usual investigation. We need scarcely 
 detail what passed between him and Plombier : suffice it to say, 
 that Alfred presently issued from the office with a smile of satisfac- 
 tion on his countenance, and a ray of hope illuminating his breast 
 
 Champignon was ushered into the little cabinet after De Rosann , 
 and finding himself confronted by an ill-looking old man, he began 
 to tremble, fearful of being in the presence of the public execu- 
 tioner. His face became as pale as death, his legs tottered under 
 him, and his teeth chattered as if he were enveloped in ice. 
 
 Plombier stared at this comical figure in astonishment, while 
 Champignon fancied his last hour was come. 
 
 " Well, my fine fellow — why do you not undress yourself? " 
 
 " Undress myself ! Good God — what have I done ? " cried 
 the wretched man, a cold sweat gathering on his forehead. 
 
 " You know best, I suppose," returned Plombier. " One thing 
 is very certain : that you were not sent hither on account of your 
 innocence." 
 
 " Alas ! alas ! Monsieur le Bourreau" * cried Champignon, 
 " spare me— spare me — for the love of God, spare me ! " 
 
 " Who the devil wants to touch you ? " said the old man, quiver- 
 ing with indignation at having been taken for the public func- 
 tionary of the guillotine. " Make haste, and disencumber yourself 
 of these clothes, that I may dispatch you as speedily as possible." 
 
 " Dispatch me ! — and so soon, too ! " murmured Champignon, 
 in a piteous tone of voice ; " you could not kill the best cook in 
 France before he has said his prayers ! Oh, no ! — I'm sure you 
 could not : therefore, mercy ! — mercy ! " 
 
 " I kill you, idiot ! " thundered Plombier, stamping his foot 
 upon the floor with rage : " what put such a ridiculous idea into 
 your ass's head, I wonder? Get up, and let me examine your 
 clothes, you unsaintly coward — you worthless thief ! " 
 
 " Oh ! oh ! " whispered the gastronomer, " then you are not 
 going to kill me ? " 
 
 * Bourreau, Executioner. 
 
M OF A FRENCH GENTLEMAN, 
 
 " No ! idle fool. Undress yourself, or I will call the Gendarmes 
 to tear your garments shred by shred from your vile body." 
 
 " Spit me before the fire — grill me on a gridiron — truss me like a 
 ca p 0n — but spare my life, at least till I have made known to the 
 world my cotelettes a la quadrille ! " 
 
 " Sacre mille tonnerres ! " roared the irritated old man : " the 
 villain wishes me to dance a quadrille at my time of life ; but, by 
 the eternal God ! I will make him caper to a pretty tune, if he do 
 not instantly submit his unholy carcase to the investigation ! " 
 
 " I am at your mercy," said Champignon, resignedly. " Speak 
 - -what would you have me do ? " 
 
 " Take off your clothes as quickly as possible." 
 
 The gastronomer obeyed with a piteous face, and Plombier 
 soon terminated his scrutiny : he accordingly motioned Champig- 
 non to resume his apparel ; but the sign was misunderstood, and 
 the ex-restaurateur of the Cadran Rouge, bewildered and con- 
 fused, and almost unconscious of what he was doing, opened the 
 door of the cabinet, and appeared amongst the Gendarmes, and 
 the rest of the convicts who waited to pass their examination, 
 in his shirt. The step was rather higher than he fancied it to 
 be ; and in descending it too hastily, his foot slipped, and down 
 he fell. An immense dog, that hitherto lay reposing in his kennel 
 at the farther end of the yard, was aroused and alarmed at the 
 sudden apparition of a being in so unseemly a guise ; and rushing 
 from his den, he flew upon the unfortunate gastronomer's back in 
 the twinkling of an eye ; but before he could do any essential 
 mischief, a Gendarme promptly interfered, and succeeded in with- 
 drawing the animal, while the discomfited Champignon arose 
 amidst shouts of laughter, declaring " it was the first time in his 
 life he had ever been taken for a cotelette en papillote." 
 
 On the following morning the prison garb was distributed to 
 each of the convicts who had entered the day before ; and their 
 names were worked in full length upon their caps, with a supernu- 
 merary distinction emphatically expressed by the letters GAL* 
 Thus the ceremony of examination by the old man on the arrival 
 of the chain was not useless, as it might have at first appeared to 
 the reader, whose wonder was very naturally excited at the appa- 
 rent folly of causing so much trouble, instead of dealing out a 
 change of habiliments at once ; whereas the clothes were neces- 
 sarily kept back for a night, in order to be distinguished by the 
 nomenclatures of those who were destined to wear them. Belle- 
 Hose and De Rosann retained their passports untouched, as 
 Plombier had assured them would be the case ; and their delight 
 at this circumstance was only equalled by their curiosity to become 
 acquainted with the nature, the source, and the extent of a power 
 which displayed itself in so remarkable a manner, and yet remained 
 concealed from every eye. It was evident that the. agents knew 
 no more of the motives'of their employment, than the King's mes- 
 senger is aware of the contents of the dispatches which he bears 
 from his sovereign's court to a foreign monarch. Those agents 
 
 * Galerien, galley-slave. 
 
ALFRED ; OR ADVENTURES 57 
 
 worked for a purpose into whose mysteries they could not penetrate ; 
 they laboured to accomplish ends carefully concealed from their 
 view. Tims was it impossible to betray the site of the mighty 
 fountain whence issued a thousand streams ; thus were the invisible 
 promoters of vast designs enabled to enlist the infamous as well as 
 the virtuous in their service, and secure the eventual success of 
 their enterprises by the cunning of those whose experience was not 
 obtained in the paths of honour, but in the schools of vice. 
 
 But if De Itosann were disgusted with the licentious discourse and 
 loose anecdotes of his companions on their march from Paris to 
 Brest, how much more had he reason to shudder at the behaviour, 
 the principles, and the language of those whom he found at the 
 bagne. One related with the utmost coolness a tale of horror and 
 assassination, in which he himself had been engaged, and for 
 which he was condemned ; another swore that the first use he 
 should make of his freedom, would be to cut the throat of the 
 person who delivered him into the hands of justice ; a third de- 
 clared that, if he had murdered his own father, it was because 
 he had had no inducement to be a dutiful son ; a fourth boasted 
 of having robbed his unsuspicious master during a period of twelve 
 years, which at last brought on the ruin of the respectable mer- 
 chant whom he served, and to whom he was indebted for his bread ; 
 a fifth deplored his folly in not having blown out an aged grand- 
 father's brains, when he made the old man sign away his last far- 
 thing by placing a pistol to his ear, and terrifying him with the 
 most dreadful menaces ; and a sixth cursed the venerable priest 
 who had interrupted him during a sacrilegious attempt to rob a vil- 
 lage church. 
 
 Such — for we dare quote no more — is a small sample of the con- 
 versation, the ideas, and the thoughts of those wretches with whom 
 De Rosann was forced to associate. And, to add to his internal 
 grief, he dared not manifest his disgust : he was obliged to conceal 
 it all in his lacerated breast. He was compelled to join in the bois- 
 terous laugh — to listen to the ribald som*; — to applaud the licentious 
 joke — to smile at anecdotes of blood, of lust, of incest, and of terror 
 — and to maintain, as well as he was able, a joyous countenance 
 amongst murderers and thieves. But all that he heard and saw, he 
 witnessed with loathing, and regarded it as an example teaching 
 him to retain the natural purity of his sentiments, and to avoid the 
 slightest step that might lead to the abyss wherein the wretches 
 around him had fallen. Had he been gradually drawn on from 
 one degree of vice and dissipation to another, and initiated in the 
 school of turpitude and debaucherystep by step, the weakness of huma- 
 nity might have been triumphed over, and his soul might have even- 
 tually succumbed to temptation. But he was precipitated suddenly 
 and headlong from a high estate to a predicament of horror ; and 
 the alarming contrast instantly made a deep impression upon his 
 mind — an impression so indelibly stamped, that nothing less pow- 
 erful than the waters of oblivion could have washed it away. 
 
 Belle-Rose mingled fearlessly with the members of the bagne, 
 and instantly became a great favourite, on account of his naturally 
 lively disposition, his garrulity, and the perpetual good humour 
 
58 OF A FRENCH GENTLEMAN. 
 
 which marked his countenance. He moreover recognised amongst 
 the convicts several of his ancient associates, and soon made ac- 
 quaintance with others ; for it is not in the criminal gaols that the 
 ceremony of introduction, observed by the world without, is very 
 prevalent. Still his soul was not so deeply tainted as that of many 
 of his comrades : there was no species of swindling, chicanery, nor 
 dishonesty that Belle-Rose was not capable of ; but he would have 
 shrunk from spilling blood with the same horror as would a purely 
 virtuous man. He affected no false sanctity ; he merely said, in 
 his own peculiar style of jocularitj^, " That so long as there were 
 widows to be duped, minors to be fleeced, and tradesmen to give 
 credit, he did not see the use of cutting a man's throat to procure 
 a purse; and that for his part he never had a very high opinion 
 of the cunning of the individual, who preferred scouring the high- 
 ways at night, to living on his wits within the walls of Paris." 
 
 Where all are bad, and where it is nevertheless necessary to make 
 choice of an associate, both for the purpose of concocting plans to 
 further an escape, and to avoid an appearance of selfishness and 
 constraint, we must choose the best. Therefore, even if circum- 
 stances had not particularly linked the present interests of Belle- 
 Rose and De Rosann together, it is more than probable that our 
 hero would have selected Pierre as his intimate companion and 
 chum. Neither Belle-Rose, De Rosann, nor Champignon had 
 been branded at Paris, as was customary with criminals found 
 guilty of enormous crimes ; and they were the only three, out of 
 the fifty or sixty convicts that accompanied them from Bieetre, who 
 had escaped this mark of eternal degradation. 
 
 As for poor Champignon, he soon became the butt of his com- 
 panions ; but he bore all their jokes with the greatest good humour, 
 never suspecting that he was singled out as the sole object of their 
 practical jocularities. At night-time he amused himself with a 
 thousand wild schemes, which he communicated to the others in 
 the morning ; and they with serious faces applauded his plans. 
 Amongst these numerous devices, was one for the formation of a 
 joint-stock company, or socicte en commandite, in order to make 
 known to the world his cotelettes a la quadrille, for which he in- 
 tended to take out a patent, and to establish a restaurant, where 
 they could be served up in every principal town of France. The 
 capital was fixed at six hundred thousand francs ; * and the insti- 
 tution was to be called " Societe pour Sexploitation des cotelettes a la 
 quadrille, sous la liaison Sociale de Champignon et Cie." The convicts 
 declared this to be a most promising undertaking ; and begged he 
 would allow them to have the refusal of the first shares. The gas- 
 tronomer thanked them with tears in his eyes, forgetting that 
 scarcely one of his promised supporters was blessed with a sou, and 
 began racking his brains for suitable language in which " to dress 
 up a prospectus." 
 
 Shortly after the arrival of the prisoners at the bagtie, the Com- 
 missary or Governor definitively divided them into couples, and 
 every couple was attached together by a long chain fastened to 
 
 * Twenty-four thousand pounds, sterling. 
 
ALFRED; OR ADVENTURES 59 
 
 the ancle of each individual. Fortunately for the execution of 
 their designs, and the fulfilment of the mystic promises of Leblond, 
 De Rosann and Belle-Rose were again suffered to be chained toge- 
 ther ; and thus during the toils to which their condemnation com- 
 pelled them to submit, were they enabled to discuss schemes and 
 methods of escape. The result of these deliberations was, however, 
 anticipated by an accident which seemed singularly well adapted 
 to favour the wishes of the two convicts. The circumstances alluded 
 to will be faithfully detailed in their places : at present we must 
 for a moment stop the thread of our narrative to lay before the 
 reader an episode which, although it may at first appear entirely 
 unconnected with the tale, is nevertheless too important to be omitted. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 FRANCOIS. 
 
 In one of the strong rooms of the prison at Brest, encumbered 
 with massive chains, and awaiting the arrival of Gendarmes to 
 lead him forth to the place of execution, lay an old man, who 
 had numbered at least sixty summers, and who had languished 
 at the galleys more than half that period. His hair was white 
 as snow ; but his fiery eye and keen glance had not suffered 
 through the ravages of time. There was something repulsive in 
 his looks and in his manners— a ferocity, a coarseness that re- 
 strained the slightest advance at familiarity. The story of his 
 condemnation to the galleys, as he had often told it to his com- 
 rades, was as follows : — 
 
 " It was in the year V of the Republic, on the 2nd of Ther- 
 midor — I recollect it as if it were yesterday — a stranger entered 
 my humble shop in the Rue Grenelle St. Honore, in Paris, and 
 enquired if I had apartments to let. He had been attracted by 
 the placard outside the door stating that a portion of my house 
 was thus to be disposed of. I answered in the affirmative — he 
 examined the two rooms that were free, and appeared satisfied 
 with them. He enquired the amount of rent ; I demanded a 
 somewhat high price, expecting to be beaten down ; but he 
 acquiesced in the almost exorbitant charge, and was speedily 
 installed in his new lodgings. He did not stir out till late at 
 night ; and then he remained some time absent. At length he 
 returned, accompanied by an individual bearing a portmanteau of 
 an uncommon weight, if I might judge by the way he staggered 
 under the heavy load. This was my lodger's servant ; and from 
 that moment he took up his quarters with his master ; there being a 
 bed in each room. The Marquis de Denneville — for such was his 
 rank and name — made a confidant of me, and threw himself en- 
 tirely on my mercy. It appeared that a price was set upon his 
 head — that since the overthrow of the Bourbon dynasty he had 
 hitherto remained concealed in England — and that he had at 
 length returned to his * unfortunate country,' as he called it, to en- 
 deavour to influence a powerful relative in his behalf. This last 
 
60 OF A FRENCH GFNTI-EMAN. 
 
 resource had failed—his relative had proved himself a faithless frienc 
 — and temporary concealment for the Marquis de Denneville was 
 necessary, until he could find an opportunity of reaching Calais 
 and passing over to England. All he had succeeded in doing was 
 to realize a considerable portion of his former property, the whole 
 of which had not been confiscated ; and the proceeds, in gold and 
 bank-notes, were in the portmanteau that Gustave, his faithful ad- 
 herent, brought to the house. < I have a child — an only child,' said 
 the Marquis; 'and God knows what may become of me! Her 
 mother is dead ; and, although she be with kind friends, still must 
 I look to her interests. This money will be useful to her in after- 
 life— when I shall be no more ! '—and tears moistened the old no- 
 bleman's cheek, as he uttered these words. — About a month passed 
 away, and Gustave died of a sudden attack of apoplexy. _ The grief 
 of the Marquis at this unfortunate event, cannot be conceived ; and 
 his embarrassment was greater than his sorrow ; for the faithful 
 domestic had intended to undertake a journey to one of the western 
 frontier towns, in order to secure a safe passage for his master across 
 the channel. It was now that an infernal idea entered my head ; 
 the treasure of the Marquis haunted me perpetually, beset me during 
 the day, and followed me in my dreams ; my imagination was con- 
 tinually forming brilliant plans for the future— I saw myself sur- 
 rounded by domestics— I heard the noise of my carriage, as it 
 rolled up to my door ; in fine, I thought of nothing but that trea- 
 sure, and the means of possessing it. I could not work ; my meals 
 were nauseous to my taste ; I looked with disgust on every thing 
 save the fatal portmanteau ; and at last, in a species of mental 
 phrenzy, I resolved upon doing the accursed deed." 
 
 Here the old man invariably stopped for a moment, drew breath, 
 wiped his eyes ami his brow, and then proceeded with the tale of 
 horror that had stamped untimely wrinkles on his forehead. 
 
 " No sooner was my mind made up to perpetrate a terrible ac- 
 tion, than I felt easier ; and one fatal night — the rain beat in piti- 
 less torrents against the window — not a single star varied the gloom 
 of the dark canopy above— the wind howled in the narrow street, 
 in dismal chorus to the whisperings of my conscience — all nature 
 seemed at war— I left my lonely couch, armed myself with a deadly 
 weapon, and proceeded to the chamber of the Marquis. The 
 venerable noble slept ; there reposed one of France's ancient peers 
 
 the aristocracy of the old regime— a pillar of the murdered Louis's 
 
 mighty throne ! I paused to^ dwell a moment on his unruffled fea- 
 tures—his mild countenance ; then, banishing all commiseration 
 from my ruthless soul, I stabbed him to the heart. He uttered not 
 a groan — a slight convulsion passed through his frame — and in an 
 instant he was no more ! " 
 
 It was the old man's custom to pause again, when he arrived 
 at this crisis ; he then concluded in the following terms : — 
 
 " But my villany was well rewarded. I opened the portmanteau, 
 and sought in vain for the gold— it had disappeared. A bundle of 
 papers alone met my eyes. Although I could not read — for my edu- 
 cation had been more than neglected— I knew that they were neither 
 bank-notes, nor bills of exchange to procure money upon : they were 
 
ALFRED; OR ADVENTURES 61 
 
 most probably family documents. My rage and horror, singularly 
 blended together, knew no bounds; I had committed an enormous 
 crime, and had reaped no benefit ; my 60ul was stained with blood, 
 and the baitthathad allured me to so dreadful a deed, had eluded my 
 grasp. In vain 1 searched the apartments — the murdered man's per- 
 son — the bed-linen — all was to no purpose ; the money was not there. 
 What could he have done with it ? I recollected that Gustave occa- 
 sionally went out late at night ; perhaps he had despatched the trea- 
 sure to another land. Vain and useless conjectures ! for there was 
 one glaring, damning truth ever present to my faithful memory — a 
 truth which no argument could controvert — that I had deprived an 
 excellent and generous being of his life ! I scarcely knew what I 
 was doing, nor what was to be done. To remain there with the body 
 was impossible ; to dispose of it for any length of time was equally 
 difficult. In my desperation I resolved to fly from the hated spot. 
 I accordingly rifled the pockets of the deceased, took what little 
 money I myself possessed, and — God knows why — putting the 
 Marquis's papers in my pocket, perhaps with a distant hope that on 
 examination by a person who could read, and to whom I could en- 
 trust my secret, something might be developed by them — I left Paris, 
 and took the road to St. Malo, intending to embark for Guernsey, 
 and thence seek the shores of England. I halted within a few miles 
 of the town, and obtained a night's lodging in a farm-house situate 
 at a little distance from the main-road. Having carefully concealed 
 the Marquis's documents in an old cupboard that stood near the 
 chimney of the room to which I was shown, I lay down to rest : 
 but no sleep visited my eyes — horrible ideas oppressed me — and the 
 ghost of the murdered man seemed to haunt my bed-side. In the 
 morning I was arrested ; the police had followed on my track but 
 too well — and I was conveyed to gaol. Despite of my unceasing 
 declarations of innocence, I was found guilty, and condemned to 
 the galleys for life. As for the papers I left behind me at the farm- 
 house, I never mentioned their existence to the Gendarmes, deter- 
 mined that, if those documents did contain information which might 
 lead to an important discovery, no one should enjoy the benefit of 
 wealth that I had lost, through any disclosure from my lips. It is 
 however more than probable that the farmer found them, saw that 
 they were useless, and destroyed them." 
 
 Such was the horrible tale which Francois — for the old man was 
 generally known by this name — had often told his companions ; and 
 so far as it could be ratified by the proceedings before the tribunal 
 that condemned him, it was perfectly correct. With regard to the 
 rest, no one could attest its veracity, nor prove its falsity. But let 
 us hasten to inform our readers wherefore Francois is now in the 
 strong-room of the prison, and why he is under sentence of death 
 in a place at which he had been already doomed to pass the remain- 
 der of his miserable existence. 
 
 About six months before the arrival of De Rosann, Belle-Rose, 
 Champignon, and their comrades, a youth of fifteen was sent to the 
 galleys for a period of five years. His character was the most de- 
 praved that can be conceived ; he had participated in many daring 
 robberies ; and, after having been repeatedly pardoned and admon- 
 
(52 OF A FRENCH GENTLEMAN. 
 
 ished by humane magistrates, he was at last found to be incorrigible, 
 and the law was allowed to have its usual course. But the old 
 Francois took pity upon the tender years of Edouard — so the young 
 prisoner was named — and behaved to him with even parental kind- 
 ness. Occasionally the turnkeys, in consideration of the length of 
 time that Francois had been at the bagne, slily ameliorated his usually 
 coarse meal, and gave him fruits, cold meats, half a bottle of wine, 
 or some little luxury of the kind. These additions to the ordinary 
 fare were always transferred to Edouard — and the old man expe- 
 rienced a secret pleasure in thus alleviating the miseries of a being 
 that nevertheless was nought to him. If Edouard were ill during 
 the night, Francois invariably attended upon him, gave him water, 
 arranged his straw pillow, and supported his aching head. And 
 yet the youth was not grateful for his disinterested conduct ; he was 
 often rude and abrupt in his replies to the old man's questions, and 
 not unfrequently made him the butt of his low jests. Still Francois 
 loved the worthless boy, and entertained a father's affection for him. 
 It was singular such tenderness in such a heart — in the heart of a 
 murderer; but perhaps Francois was rejoiced at knowing one indi- 
 vidual in the world, whom he could single out and say, " There is 
 the only being on earth that I care for ! " 
 
 Months rolled away ; and Edouard became daily more brutal and 
 reserved towards his benefactor, as Francois' kindness to him in- 
 creased. Often did this ingratitude strike to the heart of the poor 
 old man ; and then he would say within himself, " All my sufferings 
 in the world are a punishment for the crime I committed in my 
 youth ; if piy soul become attached to a fellow-creature, the divine 
 wrath uses that feebleness as a weapon against me." 
 
 One day Edouard had offended another convict, and he received 
 a severe blow. Francois reproached the man, that had beaten the 
 youth, with his cowardice in striking a person unable to defend 
 himself, and whose strength had not yet become matured by years. 
 A dispute ensued, and an inspector of the bagne — a man endowed 
 with considerable authority — interfered. " Edouard has well 
 merited his punishment," said he ; " he is the most turbulent and 
 troublesome convict in this department of the gaol ; he receives all 
 your kindness, Francois, with the basest ingratitude, and is perpe- 
 tually creating some disturbance. The next time he misconducts 
 himself, I shall transfer him to another quarter of the prison, where 
 indulgence is more circumscribed, and work more abundant." 
 With these words the inspector passed on — Edouard turned aside 
 — and Francois muttered audible curses against the authority that 
 had thus interfered in a private quarrel. 
 
 That night, five minutes before the convicts were ordered to their 
 quarters, and during the interval when their chains were taken off 
 for the purpose of affording a brief relaxation, the inspector was 
 found murdered in the yard ! 
 
 Suspicion fell upon Edouard and Francois; they were instantly 
 arrested and confined in separate dungeons. The handle of a knife 
 was discovered in Francois' pocket — the blade had broken against 
 the ribs of the deceased. *Our readers must be informed that the 
 inmates of the bagne are not permitted to have knives ; the query 
 
ALFRED; OR ADVENTURES 63 
 
 now arose, " Whence had Francois procured the one in question?' 
 A turnkey confessed he had lent it to him that very afternoon, since 
 the dispute had taken place. Thus circumstantial evidence was 
 strong against the unhappy old man. 
 
 But the conduct of Edouard excited universal disgust, even in 
 minds long inured to treachery and crime. He declared at his 
 examination, that Francois had imparted to him his intention of 
 being revenged on the inspector, two hours before the murder was 
 discovered, and had endeavoured to persuade him to assist in the 
 nefarious design ; that he had positively refused ; and that he was 
 himself astonished at Francois carrying his resentment to such a 
 frightful pitch. Edouard moreover begged that particular attention 
 might be paid to the evidence of the convict who had been the 
 original cause of the dispute, and to that of a sentry present during 
 the quarrel, by which testimony it was fully proven that Francois 
 had uttered many threats, and those without the slightest reserve, 
 the moment the inspector was beyond ear-shot. The Commissary 
 and other authorities, who presided at this examination, were consi- 
 derably struck by the force of these arguments ; and Francois was 
 accordingly handed over to the jurisdiction of the criminal judge of 
 the district, at whose hands he did not experience a long delay ere 
 his doom was pronounced. And that doom was death ! It was 
 moreover decreed that in order to present the other convicts with a 
 striking example, the execution should take place in the prison itself. 
 It was about a fortnight after the entrance of De Rosann and his 
 companions, that this sentence was made known, with the additional 
 certitude of its being put into force within four and twenty hours. 
 Edouard was set at liberty ; but not a soul spoke to him ; he was 
 shunned by the most degraded as well as by the most scrupulous. 
 Even in the eyes of murderers his conduct appeared monstrous ; 
 when contemplated by polluted imaginations and blood-thirsty 
 minds, his behaviour had an aspect of something inhuman. In 
 what light, then, must it appear to the virtuous reader ? 
 
 The news of Francois' condemnation to death, and the various 
 collateral circumstances attending it, filled the whole of the bagne 
 with sorrow, and diffused an unusual gloom around. Audible curses 
 were muttered against Edouard — many gave him a blow as they 
 passed — and at night he was under the necessity of feigning indis- 
 position, as an excuse for sleeping at the hospital, apart from his 
 usual companions, of whose taunts and reproaches he was dread- 
 fully afraid. 
 
 At length the fatal morning dawned ; and, when De Rosann 
 arose, he saw the guillotine erected in the spacious court-yard below. 
 With an involuntary shudder he pointed it out to Belle-Rose ; the 
 others soon gathered at the windows ; and all gazed in silence upon 
 the accursed instrument. At that moment the first rays of the 
 rising sun pierced through the dispersing mists, and fell upon the 
 glittering knife which was hung between the tall spars, at their 
 summits. Those spars were about one foot and three quarters 
 asunder ; between them was soon to pass a living being ; thence 
 would be withdrawn a headless corpse ! :'*The beams of the orb of 
 day appeared to play upon the destructive mechanism as if in 
 
64 OF A FRENCH GENTLEMAN. 
 
 mockery of tne sorrows of inm whose life was speedily to pass away 
 beneath it. At first the sharp and heavy iron had hung aloft as an 
 obscure and dark thing; but when its terrors were revealed and 
 rendered palpable by that abrupt emanation of light, an universal 
 groan issued from the breasts of those who beheld it. De Rosann 
 turned away from the barred window in unutterable horror; Belle- 
 Rose muttered an anathema of some emphasis against the ungrateful 
 Edouard ; and Champignon made so frightful a face, that, had any 
 attention been paid to it, an observer would have fancied he way 
 under the influence of a sudden strangulation. But luckily no one 
 took notice of his contortions ; and he sate down to ponder for the 
 first time in his life on something unconnected with cookery. 
 
 Presently the roll of drums, and the march of soldiers, called De 
 Rosann and his companions once more to the windows. A strong 
 military force, with loaded muskets, and fixed bayonets, guarded 
 every avenue of the extensive prison, and surrounded the square, in 
 the midst of which the guillotine was erected. But it was easy to 
 discern by their countenances, that there was not a warrior amongst 
 the martial throng, whose heart was not softened at the melancholy 
 tragedy about to be enacted. Heroes that have bled at Wagram, 
 Austerlitz, Jena, and Arcole, and that have trampled upon con- 
 quered thousands beneath the banners of Napoleon, can still drop a 
 tear at the sight of a fellow-creature's sufferings! 
 
 No sooner had the soldiers taken up their station as described, 
 than the convicts were chained in couples as a precautionary 
 measure against the inclination to create a tumult, which invariably 
 possesses a lawless multitude on such occasions, and were then 
 conducted to the large square to be spectators of Francois' execu- 
 tion ; while Edouard, whose excuses could not totally overcome the 
 sagacity of the prison-doctor, was himself doomed to witness a sight 
 of which he was the cause. As he had just left the hospital he was 
 not shackled ; and, as if his evil genius were determined to torment 
 him, or rather to place temptation to fresh crimes in his way, as 
 will appear by the result, he found himself in the front rank nearest 
 the guillotine. When he was perceived by his immediate neigh- 
 bours, a repetition of the previous day's reproaches and gibes com- 
 menced; but an order from one of the inspectors soon enforced a 
 strict silence. 
 
 All was now prepared; the presence of the victim was alone re- 
 quired to complete the sad ceremony. At length he came, supported 
 by two priests, and listening to their holy consolations with the utmost 
 attention. His face was death-like pale — his limbs trembling — his 
 glances bent downwards. The conduct of Edouard had put the seal 
 upon his former misery; his heart was broken— -his energies were 
 gone — hope was blasted within him. His head was bare — it had not 
 been necessary to cut the thin white locks that still hung down his 
 neck ; for they were few, and could offer no impediment to the force 
 of the deadly weapon soon to sever them. He looked not to the 
 right, nor to the left— and all present guessed wherefore he chose to 
 cast his eyes upon the ground. But Edouard stared at him with 
 undisguised brutality, as he passed; and the care-worn appearance 
 of the old man failed to produce any effect upon the ruthless boy. 
 
A y 
 
 
 
ALFRED; OR ADVENTURES 65 
 
 CHAP. X. 
 
 THE MASSACRE. 
 
 Arrived at the foot of the scaffold, the cavalcade halted; and an 
 inspector noticed that the executioner was not there. On inquiry it was 
 discovered that the worthy functionary of the barjne, who was himself a 
 convict, had purposely sprained his leg in so dreadful a manner, as to be 
 totally unable to rise from his bed in the hospital, whither he had been 
 conveyed. A low murmur of applause issued from the galley-slaves 
 nearest the scaffold, at these news, which speedily flew from man to man. 
 " He will be saved!" said Belle-Rose in a whisper. 
 " Thank God!" cried De Rosann ; "but wherefore?" 
 " There is no executioner," was the reply. 
 " One will be found, I am afraid," murmured Alfred. 
 " O no!— the executioner must be a convict; and all will refuse, as 
 sure as you are a living man," rejoined Belle- Rose. 
 
 u You do not think that retributive justice will be thus cheated of its 
 prey ?" continued De Rosann, as he breathed an inaudible prayer W 
 the Almighty Judge of heaven and earth to spare the grey hairs of that 
 old man. 
 
 " I don't know anything about those fine-turned sentences, my dear 
 fellow," said Belle-Rose, impatiently M but what I mean to insinuate 
 js, that Francois stands a devilish good chance of escaping." 
 
 " Would to heaven that he did f" whispered our hero, with the most 
 unfeigned sincerity. 
 
 " Be heaven or hell the arbiter of his fate, comrade," added Belle - 
 Rose, " the thing will take pretty well the same turn. If no one will 
 pull that little cord yonder, then Francois' head will not be severed 
 from his shoulders : and although they may shackle, and bind, and 
 enchain us, they cannot compel us to mount that scaffold and enact the 
 part of common executioners." 
 
 " True !" said De Rosann. " But hither comes the Commissary : let 
 us await the event with resignation and in silence !" 
 
 The Governor stepped forward : he had a painful duty to perform ; 
 but he was obliged to acquit himself of it. Nevertheless, his cheek was 
 pale, and his voice was trembling : perhaps he also entertained the same 
 hope that animated many others ; for no one, however hard his heart — 
 however strict his ideas of moral rectitude and justice might be, could 
 mark that old man's hoary locks, turn to the gloomy aspect of the 
 guillotine, and recollect at the same moment all the circumstances of the 
 case, without experiencing a certain mental attenuation, a kindly feeling, 
 a sentiment of deep commiseration, in favour of him whose days, whose 
 hours — whose very minutes were haply numbered. '_ he Commissary 
 did betray this humane spirit, and vainly endeavoured to preserve an 
 assumed coolness as he addressed the convicts in the following terms : — 
 11 Prisoners, the absence of the individual, who should this day have 
 completed the awful sentence which has been pronounced against the 
 criminal doomed to expiate his dreadful action on that scaffold, obliges 
 9 
 
66 OF A FRENCH GENTLEMAN. 
 
 me to have recourse to an extremity seldom practised within these walls. 
 You are assembled to witness the execution of a malefactor, not that 
 mere idle curiosity may be gratified, nor because it is deemed indis- 
 pensable that his blood be poured out in the presence of a crowd : O 
 no ! you are called hither from a far different motive. It is that the 
 example may be a salutary one ; that the mournful ceremony may be a 
 warning to you for the future, and an useful lesson against giving way to 
 the intemperance of the passions. But it is not my object to descant on 
 this head. One amongst you must supply the place of him who is 
 wanting: the ends of justice cannot be defeated by the petty evasions of 
 a coward. Who, then, is hardy enough to volunteer ? And as the office 
 of executioner is rendered by man's enormities a necessary one in the 
 world, there has been a remuneration attached to it. In the present 
 case, he that offers himself, shall be exempt from all labour during the 
 remainder of his sojourn within these walls, shall dwell apart from the 
 rest, and shall receive a certain sum for the performance of the function!* 
 of his office this day 1" 
 
 A cold sweat stood upon De Rosann's brow at the termination of this 
 speech, which, despite of the tremulous tone in which it was delivered? 
 appeared cold-blooded and expressive of a horrible greediness for human 
 gore. But its purport necessarily gave it this savage appearance : in 
 reality it was as mild as the subject would allow. An awful silence 
 succeeded its delivery : the Governor gazed upon the multitude before 
 him; and his heart entertained a hope that his words were futile. In 
 that case Francois would be remanded to his dungeon ; a due report 
 would be made to the proper quarters; and the royal mercy was certain 
 not to be demanded in vain. 
 
 Scarcely a breath was drawn — the serried ranks of soldiers were as 
 still as death — the convicts awaited the result in motionless anxiety ; the 
 sentries forbore to vary the silence with the noise of their paces to and 
 fro on their respective posts — and the very breeze appeared to lull itself 
 in unison with the rest. The priests muttered not a sound— the old 
 man ventured to raise his head for an instant, and lift up his eyes to 
 heaven to express his last hope. His lips moved— a minute had passed 
 since the concluding syllables of the Governor's address were uttered and 
 were dissipated in the air. A minute, at such a time and on such an 
 occasion, was an age : suspense makes years of moments, centuries of 
 hours. But no reply succeeded to the appeal ; the bait held out allured 
 not even one of those degraded beings ; the treachery of Judas was not 
 to be there purchased with the thirty pieces of silver. Nearly another 
 minute elapsed : a hum of satisfaction commenced throughout the ranks 
 of convicts; the old man, whose supplication had apparently been 
 listened to and granted at the throne of eternal grace, smiled faintly ; 
 the priests were about to begin a prayer of thanksgiving — the sentry had 
 resumed his march — the Governor turned, with tears of satisfaction in 
 his eyes, to remand Francois to his dungeon — and Belle-Rose ventured 
 a joke at the expense of Champignon, to demonstrate his joy — when a 
 convict, who was not manacled, issued from the band, stepped quickly 
 up to where the Commissary was standing, and cried in a firm tone of 
 voice, " I accept your proffer, and am ready to do my duty!" The 
 Governor retrograded a few paces, as if confronted by a wild beast, or 
 
67 
 
 venomous thing, and stared in stupid astonishment, mingled with horror, 
 upon the speaker. An universal groan burst from all those who recog- 
 nized the volunteer — disgust, alarm, anger, were depicted upon the 
 countenances of the galley-slaves ; for it was Edouard that now stood 
 forward as the executioner of his benefactor ! 
 
 " The monster!" cried Belle-Rose: " Francois is lost!" 
 
 " The Governor hesitates," said De Rosann ; " there is yet hope." 
 
 " A fellow like that would eat his own father," interrupted Cham- 
 pignon, " if he were only served up with a sauce piquante." 
 
 " Alas! hope is vain," remarked the experienced Belle- Rose: "the 
 Governor as yet scarcely believes his own ears — his own eyes ; but when 
 his astonishment is past, he dares not refuse to accept Edouard's 
 services: Francois must die!" 
 
 " And become meat for worms !" added Champignon. 
 
 " See, see !" cried Belle-Rose, after a pause — " the wretch advances 
 towards the scaffold : in five minutes all will be over." 
 
 " Silence!" exclaimed the Governor, who had recovered his usual 
 presence of mind, and had prepared to terminate the melancholy cere- 
 mony with as much despatch as possible. 
 
 In a few moments Edouard was seen upon the platform of the guil- 
 lotine, awaiting the arrival of his victim. The countenance of the vile 
 youth had not lost one atom of its usual colour ; nor did his hands appear 
 to tremble as he touched the strings that restrained the fatal knife in its 
 position between the summits of the two poles Old Francois was led 
 up the steps — for he could not walk alone. He appeared already more 
 dead than alive : this last blow had struck him dumb. He had endea- 
 voured to support the knowledge of the damning fact of Edouard's 
 having sworn away his life ; but now that the same individual was the 
 one who had volunteered — freely volunteered to snap the last thread of 
 a feeble existence — an existence he himself had been the accursed 
 means of abridging — the idea was too much for mortal man to sustain 
 with reason. Once, and once only, did Francois essay to speak, when 
 upon the platform of the scaffold ; but his tongue clave to the roof of his 
 mouth, and refused utterance to a syllable. He suffered himself to be 
 bound to the narrow plank : it was Edouard who adjusted the harsh 
 cords with a blood-thirsty coolness and a skilful precision that would 
 have astonished even the absent executioner. A breathless silence again 
 pervaded all around — every eye was fixed upon the awful scene — every 
 heart felt oppressed — every bosom throbbed — the priests whispered their 
 last consolation in the ears of the departing man — the plank was lowered 
 — Edouard's hand grasped the string— the knife fell with a whizzing 
 sound— and the criminal's head rolled into the basket prepared to 
 receive it. 
 
 The silence that had reigned immediately before the execution, was 
 not broken by a soul, till a few minutes after it. It resembled the still- 
 ness of the atmosphere, which succeeds a loud burst of thunder, in the 
 mirthful month of June. At length that dread tranquillity ceased ; and 
 hisses, and groans, and loud cries speedily formed a strong contrast. 
 The convicts discoursed amongst themselves ; in vain the authorities 
 endeavoured to impose silence — the commands of the inspectors were 
 ♦otally disregarded. A terrible idea seemed to have taken possession 
 
f)f? OF A FRENCH GENTLEMAN. 
 
 of that party of galley-slaves that was nearest to the scaffold; and 
 reproaches against Edouard, mingled with threats, issued from their 
 ranks. The Governor called to order — the soldiers rattled their arms — 
 and the sentries cast vigilant looks around — but the spirit which now 
 influenced the convicts was not easily repressed: and in a moment the 
 hitherto stifled shout of " Vengeance ! vengeance on the murderer !" 
 burst forth with appalling vehemence. It seemed as if a hundred 
 thousand voices were concentrated together to chaunt forth the terrible 
 chorus : the menaces, the supplications, the orders, and the entreaties of 
 the Commissary, the inspector, and other authorities, were, in com- 
 parison with that dread sound, as the scream of an infant on the strand 
 of the boisterous ocean. 
 
 Amidst the continued din of a thousand cries was soon heard the 
 rattling of chains, and the clanking of the fetters of which the convicts 
 endeavoured to disencumber themselves : and then a simultaneous rush 
 towards the scaffold but too distinctly proclaimed the intention of the 
 infuriate mob. Edouard, who had hitherto remained upon the plat- 
 form, now suspected that he was the cause of this disturbance — the 
 object of that increasing ire ; and, giving full vent to his terror in a loud 
 scream, he hastily descended the steps, and sought protection by the side 
 of the Governor. His disappearance from the scaffold of the guillotine 
 was instantly noticed ; and another cry of extermination, which struck 
 every ear, and which no one could mistake, issued from the enraged 
 convicts, while the clanking of their chains still continued as a horrible 
 chorus to the repeated shouts for blood. 
 
 In five minutes the vindictive spirit, that had thus influenced the 
 foremost rank of the shackled criminals, was disseminated throughout 
 the whole ; and the cries and the shouts became every instant more 
 appalling. De llosann, irresolute how to act, was dragged onwards 
 with the rest: Belle! lose whispered a word of hope in his ear— and 
 they performed their utmost to add to the confusion. 
 
 The present position of all the various parties, passive or active, may 
 be rendered comprehensible in one moment, if it be not already under- 
 stood. The reader must picture to himself an immense arena, bounded 
 by high walls or buildings on all sides, and entirely encompassed within 
 by a military force. In the centre stood the scaffold, on which the 
 criminal had been executed. Around that scaffold, filling up the vacancy 
 between it and the ranks of soldiers, were the disordered squadrons of 
 convicts, mixed pell mell together, all pushing towards one point, and 
 moving on but slowly, because those nearest were afraid to show them- 
 selves too prominently in the mutiny, if it can be so called, and were 
 urged forward by the more daring mob behind them. At a little dis- 
 tance from the scaffolding, a circle of spars and ropes had been con- 
 structed to repress the advance of the convicts; and within those limits 
 stood the prison authorities. Half a dozen sentries were placed at 
 certain distances outside the feeble barrier, as an additional precaution 
 against the rude pressure of a curious multitude. 
 
 When the first rush was made towards the enclosure, these sentries 
 assumed menacing attitudes, throwing their muskets in a horizontal 
 position, and thus presenting their glittering bayonets to the bodies of 
 the foremost of the mob. But the Governor perceived in a moment the 
 
ALFRED; OR ADVENTURES 69 
 
 simultaneousness of the movement on the part of the galley-slaves, and 
 knew that those behind were even more guilty as agitators than those in 
 front. The sentries, therefore, received orders to remain quiet for the 
 present. 
 
 But the dilemma in which the Governor was placed, soon became 
 more and more deplorable- It was in vain that he attempted to address 
 the infuriate multitude — his voice was drowned amidst the cries of 
 " Vengeance !" and shouts of " Slaughter !" — the revolt soon became 
 general. To increase the disagreeableness, if not danger, of his position, 
 Edouard now implored protection on his knees before him, and only 
 added to the irresolution of himself and the other authorities. They 
 had not, however, many minutes to deliberate ; for the continued 
 clanking of the chains, and occasional hurrahs, proved that some of 
 the galley-slaves were endeavouring to divest themselves of those 
 impediments. 
 
 " Fire ! fire indiscriminately !" cried the Governor to the sentries 
 ranged around the enclosure ; and in an instant the stunning report of 
 half a dozen muskets proclaimed the commencement of the work of 
 death. 
 
 A pause in the shouts and the rush of the convicts ensued upon this 
 explosion : but it was momentary ; for the extreme measure adopted by 
 the Governor only excited, instead of terrifying, the minds of those who 
 had seen and done too much in their lives to be well acquainted with 
 fear. The barriers were knocked down, the sentries driven back, the 
 Governor and the inspectors were mingled with the crowd ; and as the 
 destructive billows of a boisterous main carry all before them, so did 
 spars, platform, railing, and the other appendages of the guillotine, wave 
 for a moment, like the masts of a foundering vessel, above the heads of 
 the disorderly multitude, and then suddenly disappear. The space, 
 where the scaffold ere now stood, was soon covered over by the waves of 
 that living ocean, which was poured out in such wild confusion all 
 around ; and the hollow murmur of a thousand voices, succeeding to the 
 harsh cries that had hitherto rent the air, sounded to the ear like the 
 distant rush of a vast torrent. 
 
 For some time Edouard clung with agonizing tenacity to the arm of 
 the Commissary; but the agitation of the crowd, the frequent shocks 
 each individual experienced, and the force of those often -repeated con- 
 cussions, occasioned by the oscillating movements of the great entire 
 mass which no one in particular seemed to direct, but of which every 
 soul was an assistant spring to sustain an unwearied motion, soon sepa- 
 rated the wretched young man from the side of his protector, and he 
 shortly found himself in the midst of those convicts who had commenced 
 the riot, and who were the most inveterately disposed against him. A 
 yell of satisfaction, which one might fancy to resemble the deadly whoop 
 of Indians dancing round the fire whereat their prisoners arecooking 
 for the repast of those savage anthropophagi, arose amongst the convicts 
 when Edouard was thus thrown into their power ; and a dismal, loud, 
 long shriek issued from the lips of the wretched being, who but too well 
 divined the horrible fate that was in reserve for him. 
 
 While the victim was thus secured to those who thirsted for his blood 
 in the centre of the mutinous body, the convicts on the outside had to 
 
70 OF A FRENCH GENTLEMAN. 
 
 contend against the attacks of the soldiery. No muskets were dis- 
 charged ; but the bayonet was a powerful reasoner to compel the refrac- 
 tory to a surrender ; and as the circumference of the crowd of insurgents 
 gradually became lessened, order would have been soon re-established 
 through the efforts of the military, unaccustomed as those brave warriors 
 were to a warfare where they were obliged to abstain from rigorous mea- 
 sures as much as possible, had not the terrible screams of Edouard for a 
 moment suspended all operations, and reduced both soldiers and galley- 
 slaves to silence and transitory inactivity on the extremities of the mass 
 of people thus condensed together, while a terrible massacre was being 
 perpetrated in the middle, whither no bayonets had as yet forced an en- 
 trance. The infuriate convicts of the centre seized hold of Edouard. and 
 tossed him from one to the other, like a frail vessel hurled from billow 
 to billow at the mercy of the winds. They then formed a small opening 
 amongst them, and placed him in the midst, to respond to their interro- 
 gatories. At first he answered not, being half dead with fear and the 
 bruises he had received ; but a violent blow from the rough hand of the 
 spokesman speedily aroused him to a sense of his predicament, and drew 
 prompt replies from his lips. It was as easy for him to refuse to obey, 
 as for an infant to combat the will of a giant. 
 
 " You offspring of the devil," began the spokesman, in the name of 
 the rest, " answer me truly : was Francois guilty of the crime that sent 
 him to the scaffold ?" 
 
 " No •- no — he was innocent ! " screamed the youth, veiling his face 
 with his hands, and sobbing bitterly. 
 
 " And who should have suffered in his place?" 
 " I — myself — for I alone was culpable." 
 " You murdered the inspector, villain ?" 
 
 « J did — I did : oh ! (Sod, forgive me ! " and Edouard's agony was 
 expressed in groans and sighs that would have excited the commiseration 
 of any save his present auditors. 
 
 " And the broken knife?" continued the interrogator sharply. 
 " It was borrowed for me, and I afterwards transferred the handle to 
 Francois' pocket." 
 
 *« As for the murder, I can understand that easily enough," pursued 
 the convict, who had taken upon himself the office of interlocutor, with a 
 brutal affectation of jocularity ; " but I scarcely comprehend how and 
 wherefore you could become the executioner." 
 
 " I was wearied, and afraid of your reproaches," replied Edouard in a 
 faint voice, " for having given my testimony against one who was always 
 kind to me: and the prospect of being exempt from labour, and of 
 being apart from the other convicts, induced me to volunteer my services 
 to the Governor." 
 
 " Infamous wretch ! it would do me good to cut your hard heart out of 
 your body," thundered the convict, accompanying his detestable speech 
 with a severe blow on the youth's cheek. 
 
 That was the signal to his companions for a recommencement of their 
 brutalities, and in a moment Edouard was again hurled from one to the 
 other. It was then that his piercing screams thrilled so frightfully in 
 the ears of the soldiers, and echoed around the gloomy prison. His 
 limbs were dislocated in the demoniac sport— his yells were disregarded— 
 
ALFRED; OR ADVENTTJRES 7\ 
 
 his eyes almost started from his head — his teeth were knocked out — his 
 mouth was dripping with gore. A convict, perhaps from merciful mo- 
 tives of putting a speedy end to his miseries, or else with a savage thirst 
 for blood and cruelty, raised his chains, and struck the unfortunate boy 
 a severe blow on the head. Then the screams suddenly ceased ; and a 
 shapeless, filthy, disgusting mass of flesh, without the slightest sign of 
 life, fell at the feet of De Rosann and Belle-Rose, who exchanged looks 
 of unutterable horror. 
 
 But before the sanguinary deed was accomplished, and while the 
 screams of Edouard yet thrilled in every ear, the soldiers, awaking to 
 energy from a pause which was only of sufficient duration to allow them 
 to inquire and discover the cause of those heart-rending yells, proceeded, 
 by the command of their officers, to force a passage to the centre of the 
 throng, with the intention of rescuing the victim from the clutches of his 
 murderers. They, however, experienced a fierce and powerful opposi- 
 tion. Many of the convicts had disencumbered themselves of their iron 
 fetters, and converted them into weapons of defence. The strife was 
 therefore savage — much blood was shed — and the contention had as- 
 sumed a most serious aspect, when the sad cause of it, deprived of life, 
 was thrown at De Rosann's feet. 
 
 The combat still raged : the soldiers endeavoured to secure thos** con- 
 victs who had succeeded in extricating themselves from their manacles, 
 and to compel the others to return to a state of tranquillity and order ; 
 while the galley-slaves fought to resist the military. In the midst of the 
 confusion— when the turmoil was at its greatest height — when cries and 
 shouts made a deafening din, and each individual was as regardless of 
 the actions of his neighbour as self-interest and the idea of self-preser- 
 vation could possibly make him — when the Governor vainly essayed once 
 more an interposition of his authority — when an inspector, who cried out 
 " Peace ! " as loud his voice could bawl, received for all answer a knock 
 on the mouth with a chain — when the soldiers had left the walls, under 
 which they were at first ranged, and had become mingled promiscuously 
 with the original promoters of the strife — and when, by a sudden move- 
 ment, the whole belligerent mass verged towards the building in which 
 the door that gave ingress and egress to the prison was situate ; — at 
 that auspicious moment an old man made his way with difficulty through 
 the crowd, and sought the place where De Rosann and Belle-Rose were 
 together resisting the shocks and concussions of those who surrounded 
 them. Plombier — for it was he — gave a single nod of recognition, and 
 put a little key into the hands of each. Not a word passed between 
 them. De Rosann and Belle-Rose were well aware of the purpose for 
 which those diminutive instruments were given, and speedily availed 
 themselves of so useful an agency to cast off the galling fetters that had 
 hitherto restrained their limbs in ignominious thrall. Plombier then 
 made a sign for them to follow him, and again forced his way 
 through the crowd. But instead of taking the direction of the principal 
 gate, he pursued another, which obliged him, and those who were guided 
 by his motions, to force their road amongst the densest part of the 
 throng. At length Fortune and hardy elbows favoured their schemes, 
 and they stopped at the wall that bounded one side of the large square. 
 Within a few yards was a small door, which Plombier opened ; and an- 
 
72 OF A FRENCH fiENTLEMAN. 
 
 other moment saw them all three in a second enclosure, away from the 
 rude multitude, whose shouts still echoed up to heaven. 
 
 " You have your passports about you ?" said Plombier, stopping to 
 recover breath, and speaking for the first time since his encounter with 
 De Rosann and Belle- Rose. 
 
 A reply in the affirmative satisfied the old man, who did not waste 
 any time in idle discourse, but again walked quickly on, followed by the 
 two convicts. They crossed the second enclosure, and arrived at a small 
 lodge, to which Plombier introduced his companions ; and having sup- 
 plied them each with a change of apparel, he bade them hasten to lay 
 aside their prison garb. This was the work of a few moments : Plom- 
 bier then addressed them as follows : — 
 
 " My dear friends, your deliverance is at hand ; and I sincerely hope 
 your escape will lead you to better fortunes. Your memories have 
 doubtless treasured up all that Leblond told you in the gaol of Verneuil : 
 the time will perhaps soon arrive when your gratitude to the great author 
 or authors of your present happy egress from these accursed walls will 
 be put to the test. May you not be found wanting ! I have now done 
 my duty. Depart ; and, when the moment shall be at hand, do you per- 
 form yours. Adieu ! " 
 
 With these words he opened a wicket that led into a narrow street, and 
 gently pushed De Rosann and Belle-Rose from the lodge. The former 
 turned round to express his thanks ; but the old man had retired — the 
 wicket was closed — and Alfred was fain to follow his companion away 
 from the gloomy walls. 
 
 At a little distance, the challenge of a sentry struck a momentary ter- 
 ror to our hero's heart: but the soldier entertained not the slightest 
 suspicion of the real truth ; he merely examined the passports, or rather 
 cast a very cursory glance over them, and politely informed our hero and 
 his comrade that they might pursue their way, a permission which they 
 did not give him the trouble to repeat. 
 
 " Nothing could have happened more fortunately than the murder of 
 the inspector, the condemnation of Francois, and the ingratitude of Ed- 
 ouard," remarked Belle-Rose, as they issued from the town-gates and 
 breathed the fresh air of the country. 
 
 " The calamities of one man," said De Rosann somewhat mournfully, 
 " often conduce to another's welfare ; and the glories of the successful 
 are usually erected on the ruins of many." 
 
 " Poor Champignon !" exclaimed Belle-Rose, desirous of turning the 
 conversation into a blither strain ; "lam almost sorry to be obliged to 
 leave him behind us." 
 
 " I saw him making most piteous faces, and heard him utter dreadful 
 yells, during the commotion," returned De Rosann ; " and if the scenes 
 he has this morning witnessed do not expel some valuable culinary ideas 
 from his head, I know not what could." 
 
 " Such an eventful day have I never passed," said Belle-Rose, casting 
 an anxious glance behind him ; " and I assure you I have seen enough 
 during my brief career : but the horrors attending the execution of that 
 poor old man, who was sacrificed after all, will not be readily effaced from 
 my memory." 
 
 " I hope most sincerely," cried De Rosann, with a species of religious 
 
OK A FRENCH GENT I, I.MAN . 73 
 
 fervour to which he was not accustomed, " that, the lesson may bo an use- 
 ful one both for you and me.'' 
 
 " As for lessons being useful, and examples good," replied Belle-Rose 
 coolly, " I can hear my grandmother or the parish parson talk about that 
 kind of thing any time in the course of the week ; but that my memory 
 will treasure up the events of this morning with the greatest tenacity, is 
 quite certain: not to be of the most remote service to me in a moral 
 point, my dear fellow, because my life will always continue the same : 
 the singularity and horror of the circumstances alone render them wor- 
 thy of recollection in my mind." 
 
 No sooner had Belle-Rose done speaking, than the roar of a cannon 
 fell upon the ears of himself and De Rosann, and drove the colour from 
 the cheek of the latter. In a moment the explosion was repeated, and 
 then a third time. De Rosann turned round to ascertain whence the 
 smoke issued: the misty volumes came from the walls of Brest, and 
 rolled over the fertile plains which lie and his companion were tra- 
 versing. 
 
 " The riot is at length concluded," exclaimed Belle-Rose, " and our 
 flight is discovered. But do not be alarmed, my dear fellow/' he added, 
 noticing the extreme terror of De Rosann, who would rather have entered 
 a lion's den than have returned to the galleys : " when I escaped with 
 Leblond — then called Ledoux — from Toulon, I was only at the gate of 
 the town the instant the warning guns were fired ; and we are already a 
 good league from the glacis. Take courage — march boldly on — let us 
 gain yonder wood, and I pledge my existence to our safety." 
 
 The cannon again fired three times as Belle-Rose uttered these words, 
 and De Rosann required no other stimulus to urge him, forward. He 
 walked with a desperate courage, determined not to be overcome by 
 fatigue, nor to give way to weariness ; and his companion from time to 
 time held out such hopes as reason declared to be feasible. Presently 
 they entered the wood, and De Rosann gave vent to an exclamation of 
 joy. Belle-Rose reiterated his assurance that they were now beyond the 
 reach of danger, and might indulge in a quarter of an hour's repose; for 
 the reader must recollect all they have gone through since day-break. 
 They seated themselves on a green bank, and were hazarding conjectures 
 relative to the event of the riot in the prison, when, to their astonish- 
 ment, the report of artillery fell upon their ears a third time. There 
 was no mistaking that sonorous explosion — once — twice— thrice again. 
 Belle- Rose started up, and looked towards the town they had left far 
 behind them. Thence came the smoke once more, borne upon the 
 breeze that blew steadily from the ocean. 
 
 " This is a glorious day," cried Belle-Rose ; " three convicts have 
 escaped ! " 
 
 " But who can be the third?" asked De Rosann. 
 
 CHAP. XI. 
 
 THE PEASANTS. 
 
 The rays of a scorching meridian sun now penetrated through the dense 
 covering of boughs and leaves beneath which De Rosannand Belle - 
 10 
 
74 ALFRED ; OR ADVENTURES 
 
 Rose enjoyed a momentary repose. The ideas that occupied their minds 
 may be readily imagined — joy for their lucky escape, and anxiety to pre- 
 serve their liberty. That the gendarmes would speedily be upon the 
 alert was very certain ; but the conviction that their cunning was not in- 
 fallible, offered considerable consolation to our hero and his companion. 
 Besides this, Belle- Rose was well versed in the geography of all that 
 neighbourhood ; he knew the devious cuts and turnings of the wood, 
 where it was impossible for the mounted police to conduct their horses, 
 and where it was not probable they would search on foot ; he was ac- 
 quainted with those cottages at which food might be sought for in safety, 
 and even beds for the night, if necessary ; and he could tell every point 
 of the compass in the dark, and in the midst of that vast maze of thicket 
 and of verdure. With such a guide De Rosann had little to fear ; he 
 was, moreover, well aware of the cool and deliberate courage of Belle- 
 Rose ; and he did not dread any treachery on the part of that individual, 
 because they were embarked in the same enterprise, although ignorant of 
 its nature and its object, and because Belle-Rose had nothing to gain in 
 playing a traitor's game. 
 
 " Our quarter of an hour has elapsed, and a few additional minutes 
 besides," said Belle-Rose, suddenly rising from the green sward, and 
 preparing to continue his march : "let us penetrate one league* deeper 
 into this wood, De Rosann, and we shall not only be secure against the 
 visits of gendarmes, but shall also find wherewith to satisfy the crav- 
 ings of our appetites ; for to tell you the truth, my morning's repast 
 has long since ceased to allay a certain hunger which takes us all at 
 times.'' 
 
 " For my part," returned Alfred, leaping from the grass, " I have 
 before made you acquainted with the forlorn state of my pocket. ^ Were 
 we in some town of repute, I could readily draw a bill upon a friend in 
 Paris, which would not be dishonoured." 
 
 " Yes, my dear fellow," said Belle-Rose, with his usual coolness ; 
 " but in the midst of this wood your credit is of as much utility to us 
 as a bank-note would have been to Noah in his ark." 
 
 " T merely ventured an observation," cried De Rosann somewhat 
 petulantly. 
 
 " And a deuced foolish one it was too, so far as it regards the pre- 
 sent moment," remarked Belle-Rose. 
 
 « Sir — I do not understand — " began De Rosann, offended at his 
 companion's levity. 
 
 " What ! are we going to quarrel at an instant when you require my 
 services to procure you a luncheon ! " exclaimed Belle-Rose with the 
 most ineffable good humour, while Alfred reddened at the idea of his 
 ridiculous wrath. " Come, my good fellow ; we will just place another 
 league between us and the town, and then talk of eating, or fighting, 
 or any other matter you choose." 
 
 This little dispute, if it can be so called, made De Rosann feel that 
 in the midst of danger and trouble Belle-Rose was superior to himself ; 
 that the adventurer, with his good humour, his constitutional gaiety, 
 
 * A French league consists of fourteen hundred and sixty-seven yards, or two 
 miles and a half, English measure. 
 
OF A FRENCH GENTLEMAN. 75 
 
 and his undoubted courage, was better adapted to encounter adversity, 
 and to surmount the difficulties that presented themselves in his way, 
 than the fine gentleman endowed with honourable feelings and senti- 
 ments of delicacy, jealous of his reputation, and prompt to resent a 
 joke when too familiar ; and he was obliged to confess in his own mind 
 that the Grand Secret Source, whence emanated the means which pro- 
 cured his deliverance from the galleys, displayed a striking proof of 
 wisdom, in enlisting under its banners those individuals who had been 
 tutored to perseverance and endurance by the caprices of a variety of 
 fortunes. The contemptuous idea he had hitherto entertained of Belle- 
 Rose, essentially diminished as he made these reflections; and he fan- 
 cied that, had his present companion possessed advantages and expe- 
 rienced the slightest encouragement in early life, he would most likely 
 have been a valuable member of society, if not an ornament to his 
 country. As it was, Pierre Belle-Rose must never hope to rise above 
 the adventurer, aspire to no loftier name, nor seek another profession. 
 His habits, his manners, and his capacities, were all wedded to, and 
 connected with, mean things: an escape from the galleys was his 
 mightiest performance ; the unlawful conveyance of a couple of roast 
 fowls from a stranger's spit to his own pocket, was one of his finest 
 feats, and the trick at which he would laugh the most. Thus, instead 
 of displaying his talent for intrigue on the wide theatre of public and 
 political life—instead of practising his abilities of chicanery and inven- 
 tion at the bar — instead of making for himself an untarnished repu- 
 tation, we find him the sport of circumstances, the " tennis-ball of 
 Fortune," a wanderer without a home ! 
 
 Had Belle-Rose guessed the train of De Rosann's thoughts, and the 
 nature of his reflections, he would most likely have desired him to cease 
 his moralising. But as the principles of the human mind do not embrace 
 the capacity of divining the ruminations of another, he remained silent, 
 and pursued his way through the unbeaten part of the wood, followed 
 by De Rosann, who stepped courageously forward in the track of his 
 guide. In about half an hour a miserable hut, almost entirely con- 
 cealed amongst bushes and brambles, caught the eyes of our hero. 
 Thither Belle-Rose directed his march, with a smile of satisfaction on 
 his countenance. 
 
 " I told you we should not be long, and that I was certain of finding 
 the way," said he, as they stopped at the cottage door. " But hark ! 
 there is a songster within." 
 
 De Rosann listened ; and the following words, chaunted by a female 
 voice far from disagreeable, met his ears: — 
 
 " Here's the goblet, whence his lip 
 Deigned my humble wine to sip. 
 
 Forgotten never ! " — 
 — " Mother, you will keep it ever, 
 
 Will keep it ever ! " 
 
 ^ " 'Tis the Souvenirs du Peuple," whispered Alfred, as the last sylla- 
 bles of the above lines died away into silence : " we shall have admirers 
 of Napoleon in these humble walls." 
 
 * The entire song is published in Part V. of " Pickwick Abroad." 
 
i G ALFRED ; OR ADVENTURES 
 
 ° Let us eat first ; and the sweet chorister shall make us melody 
 afterwards," returned Belle-Rose, as he knocked at the door 
 
 ** Entrez — entrez" cried a harsh voice ; and the invitation was im- 
 mediately accepted. 
 
 Our travellers found themselves in a room of some dimensions, 
 miserably furnished, and almost suffocated with smoke, which emanated 
 from an immense hearth where a large cauldron of soup was simmering 
 over a dull fire. In the chimney corner sate an old woman of a for- 
 bidding aspect. Her bleared eyes emitted a scalding rheum ; her nose 
 was filled with snuff, and her breath smelt of tobacco and garlic. She 
 was bent almost double with extreme age ; and when she muttered a 
 few words of welcome to our hero and Belle-Rose, they recognized the 
 harsh voice which had bade them enter the cottage. At a little dis- 
 tance from this hag, whom we might liken to one of the witches in 
 Macbeth, stood a girl of about fourteen years of age. She was tall and 
 well-formed, although disguised in the rude garb of a peasant ; and her 
 features, if not beautiful, were pleasing to a degree. There was a spe- 
 cies of melancholy depicted upon her soft countenance, which appeared 
 somewhat at variance with the coarse and indelicate feelings of the 
 vulgar class, whose passions verge into extremes, whose grief is ex- 
 pressed in dismal howlings, and whose mirth is proclaimed by boiste- 
 rous shouts of laughter. One would scarcely expect to encounter a 
 placid, resigned, and silent grief — a tranquil sorrow — in a person 
 brought up amongst people whose habits border upon barbarism, whose 
 minds are narrow and superstitious, and whose very felicity is made 
 known rather by grins than smiles. 
 
 But an inward melancholy was betrayed by the blue eye and pensive 
 brow of that cottage girl ; and De Rosann sighed involuntarily as he 
 gazed upon her mild countenance. It was evidently her voice that he 
 had heard singing the praises of Bonaparte ; for she and the old 
 woman alone occupied the cottage at the moment Belle-Rose and 
 Alfred entered it. 
 
 " Jeannette, give these strangers the two stools that stand in the 
 corner near the bed, and place somewhat to eat before them." 
 
 This command, which was uttered by the old woman in as kind a 
 tone as her harsh voice could assume, was speedily obeyed ; and dried 
 fruits, milk, bread, cheese, and cold vegetables^ were quickly spread 
 upon the table. Neither De Rosann nor Belle-Rose waited for a cere- 
 monious invitation to partake of the edibles served up to them, but they 
 commenced their attack with all the vigour that a good appetite usu- 
 ally produces. Even the sour wine, to which Jeannette helped them, 
 seemed a luxury at that moment. 
 
 " Your dwelling is somewhat retired, my good woman," said Belle - 
 Rose to the old hag, as he pushed his plate away from him, to indicate 
 the conclusion of his meal. 
 
 " Yes ; but poverty has nothing to fear," was the laconic reply. 
 
 " You and this pretty damsel live alone together ?" observed Belle- 
 Rose carelessly. 
 
 " O no ! — her father, who is my son, resides with us. He labours 
 in the fields to obtain the scanty means that support his daughter and 
 his aged mother." 
 
OF A FRENCH GENTLEMAN. 77 
 
 M All ! he is a dutiful son, then," continued Belle-Rose, affecting an 
 interest in the domestic matters of the poor family — an interest which 
 he did not feel. " And his wife f* added he coolly. 
 
 " Alas 1 she is no more," returned the old woman solemnly, while 
 Jeannette wiped away the tears from her eyes, and stifled a convulsive 
 sob. 
 
 " Behold the secret of that sensitive child's melancholy," said De 
 Rosann within himself: " she has not yet forgotten the delights of ma- 
 ternal affection." 
 
 Belle-Rose saw that he had touched upon a tender cord, and hastened 
 to turn the conversation. 
 
 " I am sure, my good woman," said he, addressing the old crone in 
 a complimentary style, "I am sure I hardly know how to thank you 
 sufficiently for the hospitable entertainment we have received: be 
 assured, however, that neither I nor my companion will readily forget 
 it." 
 
 11 I would that my poor cabin had better fare to offer you," answered 
 the grandmother, " but such as it is, you are most welcome." 
 
 " Oh ! " exclaimed Belle-Rose with his usual nonchalance, " we are 
 old soldiers, and are accustomed to hardships of every kind." 
 
 " Soldiers ! are you soldiers ?" cried Jeannette, a transient delight 
 beaming in her blue eyes ; then, fearful that her sudden vivacity might 
 displease, she hung down her head and blushed deeply. 
 
 " Yes, my pretty child, we are soldiers," returned Belle-Rose with- 
 out the slightest embarrassment ; " and have just returned from the 
 wars." 
 
 " I thought France was at peace," said the old woman. 
 
 " O no ! " answered Belle-Rose ; " the Chinese have commenced 
 hostilities against us, and the island of Madagascar has revolted." 
 
 " Then Algiers is in China, I suppose," cried the grandmother, " and 
 it was the Chinese army which the great Marshal Bourmont defeated." 
 
 " Precisely, my good woman. I and my companion were engaged in 
 all the campaigns, and have brought away ever-blooming laurels with 
 us." 
 
 " Ah ! I should like to see those laurels, 1 ' said the old woman, while 
 De Rosann had the greatest difficulty to suppress a laugh. 
 
 " What kind of men are the Chinese ?" inquired Jeannette. 
 " Giants, my love — seven feet high — mounted upon crocodiles, and 
 clothed in armour," replied Belle-Rose. " Their king, whose name is 
 Chinchangentopemandandarallah, is as tall as the church steeple of 
 Brest, and as fierce as the lions in the Jardin des Plantes at Paris. He 
 devours ten oxen at one meal, drinks up a river, and tramples upon 
 his subjects as he walks abroad. Ah ! as for his ferocity, God knows 
 some of our poor countrymen can answer for it ! " 
 
 " Bah! and you have seen all that?" exclaimed the old woman. 
 " Every atom of it — the king — the crocodiles — and the ten oxen," 
 returned Belle- Rose after a pause, during which he assured himself by 
 a single glance that he was not regarded with looks of incredulity on 
 the part of the grandmother and Jeannette. " I once saw him take 
 up a cow by the tail, just as you, my pretty maiden, would lift a ^ear 
 by its stalk, and hurl the poor beast a thousand yards." 
 
78 ALFRED ; OR ADVENTURES 
 
 *'• Of course it was killed f remarked the girl. 
 
 " No such thing : the cows in that country wear steel jackets and 
 wadded pelisses ; and in this instance the happy animal escaped un- 
 hurt." 
 
 " Papa has not seen so many wonderful sights," cried Jeannette, 
 shaking her head to express the extent of her astonishment at these 
 marvels. 
 
 11 I dare swear he has not," carelessly remarked Belle-Rose. 
 " Nor will he ever," added De Rosann with a significant accent ; 
 for he was afraid his companion would soon launch out into exaggera- 
 tions even too ridiculous to be believed by the old woman and her 
 ignorant grand-daughter. But at that moment the door opened, and a 
 sturdy peasant entered the hut. He made a respectful bow in a mili- 
 tary fashion to the two strangers, and, drawing forward another stool, 
 seated himself at the table, on which Jeannette placed three soup-plates 
 and as many wooden spoons. 
 
 " Will not those gentlemen condescend to partake of our soup ?" 
 asked the labourer in good French, which contrasted strongly with the 
 horrible patois spoken by his mother. 
 
 Jeannette made a sign for her father to change the conversation ; but 
 the hospitable peasant did not understand her meaning, and persisted 
 in his inquiry wherefore De Rosann and Belle-Rose disdained the 
 soup ? 
 
 " People who have seen kings never eat soupe maigre, papa," ex- 
 claimed Jeannette, unable to keep silent any longer on that interesting 
 head. 
 
 " The girl is mad ! " cried Claude, for such was the peasant's name : 
 " have not I often seen our gallant Emperor ? and do I refuse good 
 potac/e on account of that? No, no ! such pride is too ridiculous!" 
 
 '" Napoleon was not so tall as you," returned Jeannette ; " but these 
 gentlemen have seen the King of China — the celebrated Caccancaran- 
 cary, or some such name — who is as high as the tower at Brest — who 
 .eats ten oxen at one meal — who sits upon a crocodile — who takes up a 
 cow by the tail — and who clothes his cattle in steel jackets and wadded 
 pelisses." 
 
 The astonishment of the worthy peasant at this tirade can be better 
 conceived than described : the extraordinary contortion that his coun- 
 tenance assumed — the rolling of his eyes — and the manner in which he 
 held his breath so as not to lose a syllable, made such an impression 
 upon Belle-Rose and De Rosann, that they burst forth into a convul- 
 sive fit of laughter, thus adding to the poor man's confusion. 
 
 " 'Twas a fairy tale — do you see ? — a romance that I told your 
 daughter ere now," cried Belle-Rose, with tears still in his eyes — the 
 effect of the violent excitement his risible muscles had undergone. 
 
 " Ah ! I comprehend," returned Claude ; and he good-humouredly 
 joined in the mirth as heartily as his two guests. 
 
 " Then 'tis all false !" cried Jeannette pettishly. 
 
 " Nay, my child — it was done to amuse you," said her father, who 
 had remarked the frown upon her countenance. 
 
 " In that case I will forgive you," exclaimed she, casting a kind 
 glance at Belle-Rose. 
 
&£&£?&** a;u//ti,: -d%w„& 
 
OF A FRENCH GENTLEMAN. 70 
 
 " 1 am an old soldier myself," said the peasant, after a long pause, 
 during which two more plates were laid on the table, and the soup was 
 poured out into each ; " and I confess that the history of the Chinese 
 monarch somewhat startled me ; for I have served under Napoleon — 
 had the supreme honour of fighting beneath the banners of the greatest 
 warrior that ever the world produced— and never do I seek my humble 
 couch without offering v.p a prayer, imploring the Divine Majesty to 
 suffer the ashes of the departed hero to be one day cradled in that soil 
 for the glories of whose people he fought and conquered." 
 
 " And I sincerely hope that your prayer may be eventually granted, 
 my brave fellow," cried De Rosann, partaking of the other's enthusi- 
 asm : " but alas ! I am afraid many years will yet pass away ere that 
 last act of justice be done to Napoleon and to France !" 
 
 This was a favourite topic ; and the conversation soon became gene- 
 ral. The old woman mingled* in it with warmth and ardour ; she 
 related many anecdotes of Bonaparte, and displayed an extraordinary 
 tenacity of memory, while Jeannette listened in reverential silence to 
 the various eulogiums that were uttered in praise of the mighty war- 
 rior. Thus is it still to-day —and thus will it be for centuries to come — 
 that the superstitious and unlearned peasant, whose opaque mind will 
 receive an improbable tale as an infallible truth, and whose ignorance 
 relative to the history of his country is more deplorable and profound 
 than imagination can possibly fancy it, will cherish the name of Napo- 
 leon as he would the memory of his own child ; will describe his bat- 
 tles — enumerate his victories — detail his campaigns; and will conclude 
 the glowing picture with a variety of anecdotes, all bearing reference 
 to the one grand topic, and all to be found in the biographies, which 
 have been from time to time published, of the illustrious commander. 
 
 The father of Jeannette was enthusiastic in favour of Napoleon ; and 
 as he spoke, his blood appeared to boil with a fanatic frenzy, his eye 
 flashed fire, his nostril dilated. De Rosann and Belle-Rose listened 
 even to that peasant with respect; for the subject of his discourse com- 
 manded veneration and inspired awe : and they were not annoyed when 
 he called upon his daughter to sing them a song in praise of the lana 
 which had given birth to the mighty hero. Jeannette had no false pride, 
 no coquetry : she did not wait to be solicited several times ; but, ii 
 obedience to the wishes of her sire, she sang, in rather a melodious 
 voice, the following air : 
 
 FRANCE. 
 
 Know ye the land where the warriors of story 
 
 Were the pride of the nation, and boast of their king? 
 
 Where the fame of Rolando, and Oliver's glory, 
 Were a theme well adapted for minstrels to sing? 
 
 Know ye the land of the great and the brave, 
 
 Whose heroes are mighty to conquer and save ; 
 
 Where dwell the undaunted, the bold, and the free? — 
 
 O this is the nation for love and for me ! 
 
 Know ye the land of the bard and the lover — 
 
 The clime of the bright, and the courteous, and gay? — 
 
 GrO — search through the East, and the universe over — 
 Go, Frenchman, and languish in lands far away ; 
 
80 ALFRED; OR ADVENTURES 
 
 In France still your heart is, and e'er will remain; — 
 For a fairer than France may you search, but in vain . 
 Tis the land of the great, and the dauntless, and free-- 
 The nation of love and of pleasure for me ! 
 
 If you seek for a maiden with loveliness beaming, 
 
 Our Gallia has beauties the fairest that be ; 
 The moon in yon sky so tranquilly gleaming, 
 
 Appears not more chaste than our virgins to me. 
 Their bosoms are warm, but as fair as the snow — 
 They've a smile for your bliss, and a tear for your woe: — 
 And this is the land of the courteous and free, 
 The nation of beauty and pleasure to me ! 
 
 They love not their gallants to languish all idly 
 In their gilded saloons, from the battle afar; 
 But they send forth their warriors to spread their fame widely. 
 
 And seek for renown in the mazes of war. 
 O this is the land of the bravest of old ! 
 Where maids are most lovely, and warriors most bold, 
 ^'here chiefs are undaunted, and feailess, and free — 
 ! Tis the land of all bliss and all pleasure to me ! 
 
 Tis sweet to recline on the breast softly heaving, 
 And beating with transports, of her you adore; 
 
 'Tis hard to depart when you know you are leaving 
 A being you haply may never see more ! 
 
 But warriors must wander to aid the opprest, 
 
 Must leave for a time the pleasures of rest. 
 
 And fight for the land of the courteous and free — 
 
 The land that is dearest to Fame and to me ! 
 
 The chiefs of the South, in idlesse reclining, 
 
 Make Italy echo with pleasure and mirth; — 
 While the eyes of their maidens in raptures are shining, 
 
 They dream not of spreading their fame o'er the earth ! 
 But never may Frenchman an infidel prove 
 To the land of his birth, or the maid of his Jove : — 
 He may revel in pleasure, and still can be free 
 To fight for the clime which is dearest to me ! 
 
 It requires but one word in praise of France and the achievements of 
 her thousand heroes — and only a syllable which at all alludes to the 
 name of Napoleon and the reminiscences of his extraordinary deeds, to 
 set a Frenchman's soul on fire. De Rosann was in raptures: he forgot 
 the dangers from which he had ere now escaped — the massacre of 
 Edouard, the execution of Francois, and the difficulties attending his 
 present predicament — a long' journey before him, and gendarmes 
 behind— he recollected not his absent but affectionate Eloise — he cared 
 not for the world without — all, all were as indifferent to him at the 
 present moment as the riches of the earth to the cynic Diogenes. His 
 soul was wrapt in a joyous ecstasy — his imagination pictured glorious 
 visions, in which the apotheosis of the departed heroes of his country 
 was predominant— and the magic influence of the song chased away 
 from his memory the certainties of the present moment, to make w?y for 
 
OF A FRENCH GENTLEMAN. 81 
 
 the speculations of the past and the idealities of the future. It was not 
 the sweet voice of the cottage girl thai, had worked this enchantment 
 but it was the extraordinary degree of excitement which the name, song, 
 and previous conversation, that had turned upon the praises of Napoleon, 
 produced in a mind, which had been taught from infancy to regard the 
 Emperor as something more than man — and almost to reverence him as 
 a god. 
 
 And when we reflect on the vast and varied accomplishments of the 
 deceased hero — when our eyes scan the long catalogue of glorious 
 victories which have made for him a reputation " more durable than 
 brass" — when we think of the loftiness of soul that embraced the most 
 wonderful designs, that defied as light obstacles those mundane diffi- 
 culties which other men consider insurmountable barriers to the attain- 
 ment of their wishes — whether we regard him as a statesman, or as a 
 warrior, our admiration must be the same — and while we condemn him 
 as a tyrant, we may well excuse those sentiments of pride with which 
 the Frenchman boasts of him as a commander and as a politician. All 
 have their faults — and he had many: but in perusing the history of his 
 chequered existence, it must be remembered that the smallest delin- 
 quences of an exalted character are invariably registered with his 
 virtues ; and that the higher the rank of the individual, the more eager 
 is mankind to detect his peccadilloes and expose his inadvertencies. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 AL T7 ENTURES. 
 
 So entirely had Jeannette's song engrossed the attention of the inmates 
 of the cottage, that the soup remained hitherto untouched, and an hour 
 slipped away without being perceived. But the fresh air of the fields, 
 which had sharpened the appetite of the peasant, was not to be 
 encountered by an empty stomach : and the potage soon began to dis- 
 appear from his plate. Jeannette, Belle-Rose, and the grandmother, 
 followed Claude's example ; and De Rosann, aroused from his heroic 
 delirium by an unceremonious shake from his companions, was fain to 
 imitate the rest. Scarcely, however, was the frugal meal concluded, 
 when a loud knock at the door startled our hero and Belle-Rose : but 
 their alarms were speedily dissipated ; for instead of a tall police officer, 
 with clanking weapons, a lad of about fifteen entered the cottage. 
 
 " Well ! what possesses the boy," cried the old woman in a cross tone, 
 u to knock at the wicket, as if he were a fine gentleman who must be 
 invited to enter with all due ceremony: and how is it that you are so 
 late ? But sit down, Jacques," continued the hag, suffering her voice to 
 relax into a less severe tone than she had at first assumed, " and eat 
 your dinner. Jeannette, give your brother a plate, my girl — and let him 
 tell us all the news afterwards." 
 
 " News, indeed !" exclaimed the boy, seating himself near the table, 
 at a respectful distance from his father's guests, whom he eyed from time 
 to time with embarrassment, not knowing whether he might converse 
 freely, or not, in their presence. 
 11 
 
82 ALFRED; OR ADVENTURES 
 
 * 
 
 " SpeaK out like a man," cried Claude, who remarked his sons 
 timidity : " these gentlemen are travellers — " 
 
 " From China too," interrupted Jeannette with a good-humoured smile 
 upon her countenance. 
 
 " And they have condescended to accept our poor hospitality," con- 
 tinued Claude, not heeding the girl's jocularity : " so speak boldly, and 
 tell us all you have seen or heard." 
 
 " There have been dreadful riots in the prisons of the galley-slaves," 
 began Jacques, who was just returned from Brest, whither his grand- 
 mother had sent him on some errand: " and three convicts have 
 escaped !" 
 
 " Three convicts!" exclaimed BeEe-Rose coolly, while De Rosann 
 played with his spoon, and held down his head, for he felt the colour 
 mounting to his cheeks. 
 
 " Yes- three convicts have escaped," resumed the boy : " another has 
 been executed, and a fifth murdered." 
 
 An exclamation of mingled horror and curiosity on the part of 
 Jeannette, Claude, and the old woman, interrupted this recital; but 
 Belle-Rose, pretending to feel a considerable degree of interest in the 
 tale, begged the boy to proceed. Jacques accordingly related, with a 
 thousand exaggerations, those particulars, relative to the decapitation of 
 Francois, the massacre of Euouard, and the commotion amongst the 
 formats, of which the reader is already aware ; adding that, during the 
 riot, three convicts had succeeded in breaking off their chains, and in 
 effecting their escape, but that the gendarmes were on the alert, and 
 that the recapture of the deserters was Dourly expected. 
 
 " And how did the revolt terminate ? >J inquired Claude. 
 
 " Oh ! the soldiers were obliged to use their bayonets," answered the 
 hoy ; " and then the affair was soon finished. Several of the convicts 
 broke their fetters in the skirmish, to use as weapons of defence ; but 
 only three escaped." 
 
 " What are their names ?" asked Jeannette. 
 
 " Just as if 1 troubled my head about a parcel of names !" cried the 
 ooy, thrusting large spoonfuls of soup into his mouth with a peculiar 
 relish. 
 
 « No — that's true," remarked Belle-Rose: "never bother yourself 
 with idle appellations." 
 
 " It is extraordinary," said Claude, after a pause, " how well those 
 fellows manage to escape: for my part, I cannot fancy in what manner 
 they do it." 
 
 " Nor I," added Belle-Rose, with the most ineffable coolness, as he 
 kicked De Rosann's foot beneath the table : then turning to Claude, he 
 said, " But I wonder the fugitives never seek a momentary refuge in 
 this cottage, at least till the fervour of the first search be past : methinks 
 your hut is admirably contrived for such a shelter." 
 
 " O no ! the gendarmes know it well," cried Jeannette. 
 
 << Yes — and for that very reason they never visit it," added Claude, in 
 a tone of voice intended to rebuke the hasty remark which his daughter 
 had made : " they are aware that, although we be poor, wt are honest, 
 and would not for the world harbour a man whose crime? had rendered 
 him deserving of punishment; for, according to my ideas," continued the 
 
OF A FRENCH GENTLEMAN. 83 
 
 peasant, " it is not a duty imposed by humanity, nor the rights of hospi- 
 tality, to protect offenders against the laws of our country." 
 
 " I perfectly agree with you, my honest friend,'' exclaimed Belle -Rose; 
 " and advise you always to practise those principles which sound so well 
 in theory." 
 
 " Every honest man must be of the same opinion," said the unlearned 
 but upright labourer, who did not perceive that Belle- Rose was ridiculing 
 the severity of the ideas of justice entertained by this modern Draco. 
 
 " Summum jus, summa injuria," thought De Rosann, anxious that 
 this conversation should terminate, for the topic was anything but agree- 
 able to him : and at this moment he again envied the wonderful coolness 
 and sang-froid of Belle-Rose, whose countenance did not vary a shade, 
 nor his features a muscle, as he discoursed on matters so intimately 
 connected with his own private circumstances, and those of his 
 companion. 
 
 To the great delight of our hero, Claude soon rose from the table, 
 wished his guests a respectful " Good morning," and issued forth to 
 resume his toils. In a quarter of an hour, when Belle- Rose thought the 
 peasant was at a sufficient distance, he made a sign to De Rosann, who 
 gave a nod to signify acquiescence, and they once more set out on their 
 journey, having returned a thousand thanks for the hospitality they had 
 experienced. It was now nearly three o'clock; the oblique rays of the 
 sun with difficulty penetrated through the thick wood, which became 
 more dense and entangled the further our travellers advanced into it ; 
 and a refreshing breeze, blowing directly from the westward, diminished 
 still further the influence of the heat. 
 
 " Let us proceed gently," said Belle-Rose; " for it is useless — nay, 
 even dangerous, to quit the mazes of the wood ere night-fall. We are as 
 secure in these labyrinths as in the midst of the desarts of Saara ; but 
 were we to emerge into the open fields, we should run the risk of a dis- 
 agreeable encounter." 
 
 "It is extraordinary," remarked Alfred, "that the gendarmes do 
 not search this wood throughout in the first instance. They cannot 
 expect to find fugitive convicts walking quietly along the main-roads, to 
 be picked up at pleasure, and be reconducted to their gaols." 
 
 " ' Live and learn,' quoth the proverb, my dear fellow," cried Belle- 
 Rose : " your astonishment is very natural ; but two words from the lips 
 of experience will explain the mystery. The gendarmes say to them- 
 selves, 'Where shall we look for this convict who has escaped, and who 
 will make use of all his cunning to avoid encountering us V i Not in a 
 wood, the entrance of which is nearly on the very slope of the glacis,' 
 replies Common Sense : ' the convict suspects that you would scarcely 
 omit searching it throughout, and therefore conceals himself any where 
 but there.' Upon this the gendarmes commence scouring the country, 
 and never dream that the objects of their investigation are scarcely three 
 leagues from the town." 
 
 " I must really compliment you on your fore-thought," cried De 
 Rosann. " Had I been by myself, I should have certainly acted dif- 
 ferently, and have endeavoured to place as great a distance between me 
 and Brest, and that in as short a time, as possible." 
 
 " You were brought up a gentle "an De Rosann, and T a scamp — an 
 
84 ALFRED ; OR ADVENTURES 
 
 adventurer — a good-for-nothing fellow," returned Belle-Rose with a 
 smile : " but the gendarmes are seldom outwitted by the gentleman ; 
 they can only be cheated by men that have had a little experience in a . 
 certain way. Now, I dare swear, the other convict, who has escaped 
 this morning, is ten leagues further from the town than we are : that is, 
 if he be not an old hand. And, in case my supposition is correct, he 
 stands a thousand more chances of being captured than we do." 
 
 " Hark !" cried De Rosann : " did you not hear something — a rustling 
 amongst the trees ?" 
 
 " Yes ; but it is nothing," answered Belle-Rose without a moment's 
 hesitation, and without lowering his voice. " Fear changes the terrified 
 pace of a rat or a rabbit into the trampling of a gendarme's horse ; 
 whereas presence of mind hears sounds as they really are." 
 
 De Rosann coloured at this rebuke ; but he knew that he deserved it, 
 and that Belle-Rose did not utter it maliciously: he therefore said 
 nothing. 
 
 " We are now near the extremity of the wood, and must repose our- 
 selves once more," said Belle-Rose, after a long pause, during which 
 they had unconsciously quickened their pace. " I did not know we 
 were quite so far from the hut of the worthy Claude, who, by the bye, is 
 a most consummate ass with his rigorous ideas of justice, and of the 
 necessity of maintaining social order at the expense of humanity." 
 
 " I confess," said De Rosann, " one may push justice to such an 
 extremity, that it changes its name and becomes cruelty." 
 
 " What can you expect from barbarian ignorance ? Tell him and his 
 family an anecdote of Napoleon, and they will worship you. Solicit 
 their hospitality, and they give you food and shelter with pleasure : but 
 lay yourself open to them, throw your life upon their mercy, confess that 
 you are a format evade, and they will eject you from their dwelling, as if 
 there were pestilence in your very breath." 
 
 " And yet, with the most rude and uncultured minds, the harmony of 
 music has a powerful sway," said De Rosann. " Shakspeare — the pride 
 of English dramatic authors — has a splendid idea on the subject. But 
 the sun is declining fast — the shades of evening will soon envelope us — 
 and meseems that we have rested well and often during the day." 
 
 " In half an hour we will pursue our march towards Morlaix," 
 answered Belle-Rose. " In the neighbourhood of that town I know 
 where we can procure both supper and bed, should you feel tired. The 
 former is essential: as to the latter, w r e may decide anon." 
 
 " Act entirely according to your own judgment ; I shall not be weary, 
 if it be necessary to travel the whole night. When one is situated as 
 we are, he must not attend to mere comforts." 
 
 " In this case," returned Belle-Rose, " we may do as it seems good 
 to us. Our safety is not compromised by sleeping at the cottage 
 whither I am about to conduct you : and I have already given my 
 reasons for not wishing to hasten too precipitately away from the 
 neighbourhood." 
 
 A sudden rustling amongst the trees interrupted this conversation. 
 Belle-Rose listened for a moment— the noise continued — and his expe- 
 rienced ear told him that it was caused by the footsteps of a man. He 
 caught hold of De Rosanns arm, and whispered his suspicions in as low 
 
OF A FRENCH GENTLEMAN. 85 
 
 a tone of voice as possible : but the sudden alarm so terrified the mind 
 of our hero, that he started up from the bank on which they were 
 seated, and advanced several paces towards the outside of the wood, ere 
 he was stopped by his companion. This unguarded conduct on the part 
 of De Rosann, instead of betraying them to a foe, proved of considerable 
 benefit: for the disturbance their movements had made amongst the 
 dead leaves strewed upon the ground, apparently alarmed the individual 
 who had first terrified them ; and in an instant they heard him retreating 
 into the thickest recesses of the wood, with a speed which nothing but an 
 extreme terror could have occasioned. 
 
 " That is no gendarme," cried Belle-Rose, laughing heartily. 
 
 " But he- may be the convict for whom the guns fired a third time," 
 returned De Rosann. 
 
 " Very probably ; and if so, I am glad he has failed to encounter us ; 
 for we could not have easily refused the poor devil the pleasure of 
 travelling in our society; and that would have disorganized all our plans, 
 as well as have endangered our personal security. But it is now some 
 time since the sun has set : let us hasten and conclude our first day's 
 march." 
 
 Belle- Rose and our hero accordingly emerged from the wood, which 
 had stood them in such friendly need, and pursued their journey across 
 the open fields. A clear moon soon shewed its chaste disk, and a cloud- 
 less sky, spangled with a thousand stars, was above their heads. No 
 danger was to be dreaded as to Belle- Rose missing his way : the whole 
 country was better known to him than a private estate is to its owner. 
 Every thing appeared to favour their flight and to inspire them with 
 courage; and if De Rosann occasionally heaved a sigh, it was when he 
 thought of his absent Eloise : but he determined to write to her on the first 
 opportunity, and inform her of his escape, and of his intention to revisit 
 Paris. He knew that his letters would be welcome; and that his pre- 
 sence would be a thousand times more so ; and he consoled himself with 
 the certainty of her unalterable love. 
 
 Little or no conversation passed between our hero and his companion, 
 as they hastened forward in the silence of the night; each appeared 
 occupied with his own reflections. In this manner they completed about 
 four leagues, when suddenly a light met their eyes. Belle- Rose pointed 
 to it as the beacon of their destination ; and in ten minutes they stopped 
 at the door of a large cottage, from the windows of which emanated the 
 lustre that had struck them in the distance. Belle-Rose gave a low 
 knock, and was immediately invited to enter. He beckoned De Rosann 
 to follow him ; and they found themselves in a commodious chamber, a 
 good fire burning in the hearth, and some slices of meat cooking upon 
 embers by the side, A middle aged man, and a woman some few years 
 younger, were seated at a table, on which a tureen of smoking soup was 
 already served ; a couple of children, with chubby faces and red hands, 
 were playing in a corner. An air of neatness and comfort reigned 
 throughout the modest dwelling ; polished saucepans of glittering copper 
 adorned the walls ; nosegays, arranged upon the mantlepiece in a 
 tasteful manner, shed a sweet perfume around; and the white table- 
 napkin evinced the care of a thrifty housewife. 
 
 The peasants recognized Belle-Rose the moment he entered, and 
 
86 ALFRED J OR ADVENTURES 
 
 welcomed both him ami his companion with the utmost cordiality : 
 De Rosann soon found himself perfectly at his ease, and joined in the 
 conversation of his hospitable entertainers without the slightest restraint; 
 while the little boys continued their sport in the corner, apparently not 
 much troubling themselves about the new arrivals. 
 
 " It is some time since we have had the pleasure of seeing you, friend 
 Belle-Rose," said the host, as he served the steaming potage which had 
 a much better odour than that of the upright Claude. 
 
 " Yes, Theodore," returned the worthy Pierre; "and I have this day 
 done what you and I did a few years ago together." 
 
 " How? what!" exclaimed Theodore : " and your comrade as well ?" 
 " Precisely. After supper, when the brats have gone to bed, I will 
 recount you the whole adventure." 
 
 "Bravo!" cried the peasant, clapping his hands with joy: then 
 turning .to his better half, he said, in a tone of voice approximating a 
 whisper, " Marie, my love, you must regale us with a flask of your 
 deceased uncle's cognac, to welcome Monsieur Belle-Rose and his 
 friend, and to celebrate their escape. You understand me?" 
 
 The female gave a significant nod, and left the room for a few minutes, 
 at the expiration of which she returned, bearing in her hand a quart 
 bottle, or litre, of the genuine spirit. Conviviality now reigned trium- 
 phant ; a variety of toasts were proposed and drank with enthusiasm, 
 and Belle-Rose uttered a thousand facetious things, as the brandy 
 gradually worked its effect upon him. Even De Rosann suffered his 
 usual scruples to be overcome on this occasion ; and he joined in the 
 mirth of his companions with undisguised pleasure, the novelty of his 
 situation, the force of example, and the adventures of the day, baffling 
 all punctiliousness. 
 
 In the midst of the conviviality, when the glass was often filled and 
 speedily emptied — when jests flowed unrestrained — and when every 
 heart was gay, a loud knock at the door excited the attention of the 
 revellers. Theodore rose to see who could be there at so late an hour • 
 and a word from Belle-Rose reassured the drooping courage of De 
 Rosann; for he instantly pictured to himself gendarmes, chains, and 
 dungeons. But his companion convinced him that no gendarmes would 
 visit the cottage at that time of night, and begged him not to give way 
 to his alarms. 
 
 Theodore had taken the precaution of closing the door after him ; and 
 as there was a large screen drawn between it and the table, on one side 
 of the fire-place, the visiter, whoever he might be, could not possibly 
 catch a glimpse of the inmates of the room. In about a minute the 
 peasant returned, laughing so heartily, that tears ran down his cheeks. 
 " For God's sake, let us share the joke!" cried Bell-Rose. 
 " He must be a rare witty fellow, that," stammered Theodore, unable 
 to restrain his mirth. " 6 what a proposition! Can you fancy, my 
 friends— a man who implores my hospitality — and such hospitality as he 
 solicits — Oh! Oh!" 
 
 " A supper and a bed, to be sure," exclaimed Belle-Rose. 
 « Yes — a piece of dry bread for supper — there is no harm in that : 
 but the bed — all he wants is the pig- stye !" 
 
 A roar of laughter followed this explanation, and Belle-Rose declared 
 
OF A FRENCH GENTLEMAN. 87 
 
 his intention or introducing the man whose ambition scared no higher 
 than a pigstye for a couch. But just as he was about to raise the 
 latch, a sudden idea struck him, and he retraced his steps towards 
 the table. 
 
 " Do you know, my friends," said he with a serious air, " that the 
 request of this nocturnal visiter is somewhat singular ? It strikes me he 
 is the convict for whose flight the guns fired the third time this morning. 
 At all events, let us be upon our guard : and as it does not suit myself 
 nor my comrade to associate with the fugitive, if it be he, you, Theodore, 
 had hotter accede to his request: give him a bed in an outhouse — " 
 
 u There is none." 
 
 " Well, in the pigstye, then, since that cleanly tenement can content 
 him ; and we will send the poor fellow the relics of our supper, with a 
 glass of cognac to cheer his spirits." 
 
 Theodore hastily collected together the remnants of the meat and 
 bread, which were upon the table, and having poured out a tolerable 
 quantum of brandy into a glass, he hastened to administer to the w T ants of 
 the wretched being, whose situation was so deplorable as to force him to 
 solicit the boon that had excited such general mirth. In about five 
 minutes he returned : a smile was still on his countenance, but it was 
 mingled with an expression of pity. Marie wiped a tear from her eyes, 
 and turned away to conceal her emotion. 
 
 " I endeavoured to make the poor fellow comfortable," said Theodore; 
 11 he trembled like a leaf; but it was more through fear than cold. He 
 told me he had not eaten a morsel since the morning, and that he had 
 wandered nearly all day in a wood. I forbore asking any questions, 
 contenting myself with assuring him that he might sleep in peace on my 
 premises, and that he was heartily welcome. Had it not been so dark, 
 he might have seen that I made but a foolish face, when I hammered 
 out a lame excuse for not inviting him to enter the cottage. He was 
 very grateful, however, poor fellow ; and 1 think I heard him weep, as 
 he took the food from my hand. So soon as the grey of morning 
 appears, I will give him some provisions, and dismiss him before you rise 
 from your beds." 
 
 These last words were addressed to Belle-Rose and De Rosann; and 
 reminded them that they needed a good night's rest after the fatigues of 
 the day. They accordingly thanked their kind hosts for the hospitality 
 they had met with, and retired to the chamber which had been prepared 
 by the industrious Marie for their reception. 
 
 CHAP. XIII. 
 
 THE FARM-HOUSE. 
 
 Scarcely had the first ray of twilight announced the dawn, when 
 Theodore left his bed, and sought the larder, to arrange a hasty break- 
 fast for the traveller, whose contented disposition had solicited no better 
 couch than the abode of the unclean animal. The hospitable peasant 
 hastily piled some slices of cold meat on a huge piece of bread, to which 
 were added a morsel of cheese, and a pint bottle of sour wine; and 
 armed with these luxuries, he sallied forth to visit the modest stranger. 
 
88 A I FRED; OR ADVENTURES 
 
 As he approached the stye, the noise of his footsteps aroused the 
 slumbering swine ; and an immense pig, doubtless fancying that its 
 morning meal was close at hand, made a rush towards the door of the 
 covered den, to force an egress into the yard adjoining. But, in per- 
 forming this very natural movement, the unwieldy animal placed one of 
 his feet on the countenance of the sleeping stranger ; and that individual, 
 whose head w r as apparently full of gendarmes, and whose dreams were 
 peopled with nothing but police-officers, turnkeys, and inspectors, aw-oke 
 in a terrible fright, and set up a most fearful howl, perfectly convinced 
 in his owm mind that the un saintly hand of a functionary of justice had 
 thus assailed his person. Not contented with exercising the powers of 
 his voice to their highest key, he also availed himself of the possession 
 of arms and legs, and commenced a vigorous attack on the sides and 
 head of the offending beast, which kicked and plunged in return, and 
 squeaked a discordant chorus to the cries of its assailant. The battle 
 was raging in all its fury when Theodore arrived to put an end to it; 
 and having deposited his viands in a place of safety, he leapt into the 
 stye to restore order. A separation of the combatants was speedily 
 effected ; but the stranger was in a most dismal plight. His clothes were 
 one mass of filth — their original colour could not possibly be distin- 
 guished — and his face w r as covered with the greasy mire. Theodore 
 experienced the utmost difficulty to suppress a hearty laugh; he, however, 
 succeeded in overcoming his incipient mirth, and assisted the unfor- 
 tunate being to escape from the dirty tenement he had occupied during 
 the night. The stranger muttered some w 7 ords expressive of his grati- 
 tude ; but Theodore cut him short with a smile, and led him towards the 
 pump, thinking that a good wash would be of more service to him than 
 all the talking in the world. 
 
 "Stay!" cried Theodore, an idea flashing across his brain: " it is 
 totally impossible you can travel in those clothes — they are covered with 
 filth — and, to tell the truth, emit no very agreeable exhalation. Besides, 
 we must never do things by halves in this world : I have been in diffi- 
 culties myself ere now — although, thank God, I obtained a full pardon— 
 and the death of Marie's uncle made us comfortable. But, while I am 
 talking here, you are shivering with cold. Wait one moment, and 
 I will bring you a change of raiment — of which," added the peasant, 
 when he was at a little distance, " I think no man ever stood in greater 
 need." 
 
 Theodore did not suffer many moments to elapse before he returned 
 to the spot where he left the stranger, whose joy knew no bounds when 
 the kind-hearted peasant unfolded a complete suit of clothes. It was 
 true that they were neither new nor of the finest texture ; but to a man, 
 whose raiment has been rolled in a pigstye, anything in the shape of 
 apparel would wear a cheering aspect. The soiled garments were soon 
 exchanged for the cleanly ones ; and Theodore produced the substantial 
 breakfast he had brought to allay the cravings of his guest's appetite. 
 To be brief, the poor devil recommenced his march, somewhat happier 
 than when he knocked at the cottage door on the previous evening ; and 
 Theodore felt satisfied with himself for having rendered a service to a 
 fellow-creature in distress. 
 
 In the meantime De Rosann and Belle- Rose had awakened from their 
 
OF A FRENCH GENTLEMAN. £9 
 
 slumbers, evidently refreshed with their night's rest, and in good spirits 
 to continue their journey. 
 
 " We shall arrive in the neighbourhood of St. Brieue at a suitable 
 hour this evening-," said Belle-Rose; " and will sleep outside the walls. 
 To-morrow night we shall see the spires of St. Malo, and the next 
 morning we can walk leisurely into the town, put up at a second rate 
 auberge,* and send the landlord to have our passports signed at the Hotel- 
 de-Ville. When a respectable housekeeper thus answers for you, it is 
 not necessary to go thither in person." 
 
 " And how are we to settle our account at the tavern ?" inquired De 
 Rosann, who found every thing admirable in his companion's scheme, 
 except his silence on that head. 
 
 " I have a little purse that will answer all exigencies," was the reply. 
 " Do you not recollect the worthy uncle's present at Versailles, where 
 you shammed his nephew with a handkerchief over your head?" 
 
 " And yet I did not notice that you transferred it from your prison- 
 garb to your present apparel, when old Plombier gave us a change of 
 clothes in his little lodge." 
 
 " Suffice it for you to know, my dear De Rosann, that I have a few 
 Napoleons in my pocket now," returned Belle-Rose, pulling out four or 
 five pieces of the gold coin he named. " But," added he, perceiving 
 that Alfred was lost in astonishment, " I see you cannot comprehend 
 how I passed that money into the prison at Brest ; and the way I con- 
 cealed it must for ever remain a secret, even from you." 
 
 " It appears you are well acquainted with Theodore," said Alfred, 
 desirous of turning the conversation. 
 
 " He and I escaped together from Brest," replied Belle-Rose ; " and 
 like Leblond, he is grateful for my aid and advice on that occasion. You 
 see he is now settled down as a sober peasant : he possesses an acre or 
 two of land round this cottage, which is also his own property ; and 
 having renounced the follies of youth, he passes his time in tranquil 
 rural felicity." 
 
 " And does not that picture of domestic happiness, which you have 
 just now so ably drawn, induce you to imitate his example?" asked De 
 Rosann. 
 
 " Not in the least," answered Belle- Rose : " I could not dwell in the 
 country, in the first place : the restraint of a trade, profession, or fixed 
 employment, would be insupportable ; and the idea of a parcel of squall- 
 ing children is enough to drive one mad. No," continued Pierre, his 
 eyes lighting up with a sudden brilliancy, " such an existence would 
 never suit me. Give me the gay capital — the first city in the universe — 
 its boulevards, its Palais Royal, its theatres, its restaurants, and its cafes 
 — and I can be happy ! " 
 
 " Enthusiast!" exclaimed De Rosann. 
 
 " Yes — while conversing on this subject, I am indeed enthusiastic. 
 But when I call to mind the happy hours I have passed in that brilliant 
 metropolis — when I think of the thousand pleasures it contains, and the 
 ever-varying delights in which it abounds, I do not wonder that foreign- 
 ers flock thither in crowds, and tear themselves with difficulty away from 
 
 * An inn 
 
90 ALFRED; OR ADVENTURES 
 
 the Circean rock ; nor am I astonished that so many are daily ruined 
 and undone by the charms of the luxurious city I" 
 
 The entrance of Theodore, who came to summon his guests to the 
 morning's repast, interrupted this conversation. 
 
 " And what have .you done with the man of a delicate taste ?" inquired 
 Belle-Rose ; upon which the peasant narrated all that had taken place 
 both in and out of the pig-stye. 
 
 " Was he handsome or ugly — tall or short — fat or thin — in fine, 
 which are his characteristics, that we may consider whether he be a con- 
 vict, and if we can recognize him or not." 
 
 " To tell you the truth," answered Theodore, " I did not dare look at 
 him in the face, when he had once divested himself of the dirt that at first 
 enveloped his person, for fear of laughing outright : but as far as I can 
 recollect, he was moderately stout — not very tall — tolerably ugly — and 
 awkward in his gait." 
 
 " That is a description, my dear Theodore, calculated to suit nine 
 men out of any ten," cried Belle-Rose with a smile : " it is easy to per- 
 ceive that you have never been a clerk in the passport-office at the Pre- 
 fecture de Police. — But let us leave the hero of the stye alone for the 
 present, and think of the repast which the gentle Marie has prepared 
 for us." 
 
 " Soil!" said Theodore; and they all three descended to the room 
 where the orgies of the preceding evening had taken place, and where 
 the breakfast was now spread upon the table. 
 
 When the substantial repast was concluded, Belle-Rose and De Rosann 
 took leave of their hospitable hosts, and pursued their journey, the former 
 again enacting the part of guide as he had done the day before. To be 
 brief, they arrived in the neighbourhood of St. Brieue without encoun- 
 tering any adventure worthy of record; and on the following evening 
 pursued their journey towards St. Malo. The weather was once more 
 favourable to their march ; the western breeze still swept the face of the 
 verdant country, laden with the saline particles it had collected in its 
 passage across the ocean ; and the whole aspect of nature was smiling 
 and gay. The labourers were abroad, attending to the bounteous har- 
 vests which a rich soil produced ; the songs of the peasant girls, hasten- 
 ing to their daily labour, mingled with the notes of birds, and made a 
 sweet though incongruous music ; the wild flowers, profusely spread 
 around, gave a rich perfume to the elastic air, and adorned the broad 
 plains on which herds of cattle were tranquilly grazing : here the green 
 tobacco-plant occupied wide acres with its somniferous leaves — there 
 incipient crops of corn, gracefully waving to the gentle breeze, were pre- 
 paring for the destructive hand of the mower* — on one side were thick 
 groves of trees — on the other vineyards, soon to teem with heavy bunches 
 of ripe grapes. All was one vast garden : scarcely a foot of earth, save 
 the beaten pathways, was unoccupied by some flourishing fruit, vege- 
 table, plant, or flower ; there was no waste of land that the eye could 
 detect. 
 
 Belle-Rose and De Rosann often stopped to contemplate the sur- 
 rounding beauties of nature ; they were not in a hurry to arrive at the 
 
 * In France the crops of grain are not cut down with a sickle, but with a scythe. 
 
OF k FEENCH GENTLEMAN. 91 
 
 proposed end of their journey; they had much more time before them 
 than was necessary to complete the distance to which their march of that 
 day was to extend ; and they were both too glad to breathe the fresh air 
 of the country, instead of the close atmosphere of a gaol, to deny them- 
 selves the pleasure of dwelling- on a fine prospect and lovely scenery. 
 
 It was not till nearly ten o'clock in the evening that they arrived within 
 three or four miles of St. Malo. The innumerable lights of the town 
 resembled the reflection of countless planets in a deep ocean ; and our 
 travellers hailed their vicinity as an assurance of safety, and a guarantee 
 of success. They looked around them to discover a cottage, or isolated 
 dwelling, where they might repose till morning ; and the sharp eye of 
 Belle- Rose soon distinguished a glimmering light at a little distance. 
 Thither they bent their steps ; and a quarter of an hour brought them 
 to a large farm-house, whose antique gables and quaint architecture were 
 visible beneath the rays of the moon that now emerged from behind the 
 dusky vapours of night. A high railing surrounded the old building ; 
 and when De Rosann agitated the gate, which was carefully locked, the 
 loud barking of a dog within the enclosure speedily aroused the attention 
 of the inmates. 
 
 " Silence, Azor — silence I" cried the voice of a man who issued from 
 the farm-house ; and in a moment the faithful animal ceased his dis- 
 cordant howling. 
 
 " Two travellers claim your hospitality for the night ; and where they 
 meet w-ith a friendly w r elcome, they are not ungrateful," cried Belle-Rose, 
 as the man approached the gate of the railing, and seemed to hesitate 
 whether he should open it or not. But the frank and unsophisticated 
 manner in which Pierre had uttered the above demand and assurance in 
 the same breath, the respectable appearance of our hero and his compa- 
 nion, as far as could be judged in an uncertain light, and the naturally 
 kind disposition of the farmer — for he it was in person — terminated his 
 doubts in favour of the two travellers, and the gate flew open to give 
 them admittance. 
 
 Introduced to the interior of the dwelling, neither De Rosann nor 
 Belle- Rose were sorry to see a large fire burning on the ample hearth; 
 for although the chilly season of the year had passed, still the nights 
 were far from warm, and the damp air imparted a shivering sensation to 
 those who were long exposed to it. 
 
 " Messieurs" said the farmer, when he had once more shut and barred 
 the front door, " you are as welcome to all my poor dwelling affords as 
 if you were my own brothers. But I am afraid things will not be quite 
 so comfortable as I could wish ; for my wife is ill in bed with a fever — 
 and a man, you know, makes but a sorry housekeeper." 
 
 " No apology is necessary," returned De Rosann, drawing his stool 
 closer to the fire ; " a mouthful of bread is all that we require ; for I 
 fancy w r e are more fatigued than hungry." 
 
 " I do not mean to say that I have got nothing but dry bread," re- 
 joined the farmer with a smile, as he opened a cupboard from which he 
 took cold ham, bouitti, and the remnants of a large turkey ; " all I wished 
 you to know was that I am incapable of cooking meats to serve up a hot 
 supper : but such as the provisions are, eat and be welcome." 
 
 " Meseems that you make good cheer, my friend," cried Belle-Rose, 
 
92 ALFRED ; OR ADVENTURES 
 
 casting a glance at the turkey, and then turning to the farmer : " to 
 judge by your suppers, your dinners must be exquisite." 
 
 " Ah 1 I understand your allusion,'' answered the man : " it is true 
 we have fared sumptuously to-day — which is not our custom ; for our 
 means are limited, and our wants easily satisfied. The fact is, that about 
 four hours ago a carriage broke down in the main road close by, and 
 three travellers, with a servant, were obliged to put up at my house ; for 
 one of the ladies — " 
 
 " There were ladies amongst them, eh ?" interrupted Belle-Rose, in 
 that careless manner which he frequently assumed. 
 
 " Two ladies and a gentleman," replied the farmer ; " and the elder of 
 the ladies hurt her ancle in such a manner that it was impossible for her 
 to proceed on foot, as the gentleman at first proposed. But it appears 
 that they were in no particular hurry to arrive at St. Malo — and when I 
 offered the use of my rooms, with good food, and good beds, the whole 
 party resolved upon staying here till the morning. That is the secret 
 of the roast turkey and the boiled ham," added the peasant with a smile. 
 
 " Are we not intruding, then, upon your hospitality ?" asked De Ro- 
 sann. " Your house must be full — and we are perhaps two too man}'." 
 
 " Not at all," answered the farmer, with a sincerity that the most sus- 
 picious could not doubt ; " the dwelling is spacious enough ; and if you 
 do not care about sleeping in a room that has never been occupied for 
 upwards of thirty-three years, it is at your service. There are exactly 
 two bedsteads in the apartment ; and when you have done your supper, 
 I will myself fetch a couple of mattresses, sheets, and blankets, to place 
 upon them." 
 
 " This will turn out an adventure, my dear fellow," cried Belle- Rose, 
 addressing himself to Alfred. " A chamber not occupied for the third 
 of a century — a haunted room, perhaps, such as you read of in the works 
 of an English authoress of repute, Ann Radcliffe, I think. Oh ! assur- 
 edly this is an adventure ! " — and Belle-Rose laughed heartily at his 
 conceit. 
 
 " You do not believe in ghosts, then ?" inquired the farmer with a 
 singular expression of countenance, -which involved a degree of mystery 
 unintelligible to our hero and his fellow-traveller. 
 
 " Certainly not ; nor does any rational being," returned Belle-Rose, 
 without a moment's hesitation. 
 
 " Nor I," added the farmer; " and since you treat superstitious tales 
 with the same ridicule as I do, I will explain wherefore the chamber in 
 question has been locked up during a period of thirty-three years. Had 
 you been afraid of spirits, I should have remained silent." 
 
 " But you would have suffered us to sleep in your haunted room all the 
 same," interrupted De Rosann with a smile. 
 
 " Yes," said the peasant, " because I have no other apartment to give 
 you, and because I know that you may sleep in that one with impunity, 
 as the story of its being haunted is a silly fable handed down to me by 
 my deceased father. It is as follows : — About thirty-three years ago 
 my father was sitting one evening in this very room, when a violent 
 knock at the gate aroused him from his supper, and drew him to 
 the door. A traveller demanded a night's lodging, as you, gentlemen, 
 have done ere now, and as hundreds do in the course of the year. My 
 
OF A FRENCH GEMLEMA.N. 93 
 
 father instantly invited the stranger to enter — sate him down to as good 
 a supper as the house afforded — and, when his meal was concluded, 
 showed him to the identical chamber which gave rise to this tale. Early 
 on the following morning the house was surrounded by gendarmes, and 
 the stranger was taken prisoner. It appears that he had committed a 
 most horrible murder on the person of some nobleman at Paris — " 
 
 " Was not his name Francois?" exclaimed De Rosann, thrown en- 
 tirely off his guard by the resemblance which this singular tale bore to 
 the one he had heard narrated at Brest, and recollecting the circumstance 
 of the deceased malefactor having lodged at a farm-house in the neigh- 
 bourhood of St. Malo. 
 
 " That was his name," returned the farmer, casting a searching glance 
 at Alfred, who now noticed his inadvertency, and became red with con- 
 fusion. 
 
 " We were reading of this very trial a day or two ago, in an old 
 number of some journal," said Belle- Rose hastily : " but pray proceed; 
 your account tallies exactly with that which we perused in the news- 
 paper." 
 
 " There is but little more to add," continued the farmer, from whose 
 mind all suspicion — had he for a moment entertained any — was entirely 
 banished by the address of Belle-Rose. " The stranger was conveyed 
 to prison, and was condemned to expiate his crime at the galleys for life. 
 Since that moment the apartment he occupied has been closed up ; for 
 my father, who was somewhat superstitious, declared that the ghost of 
 the murdered nobleman would not fail to haunt it on the anniversary of 
 the day when Francois was arrested by the gendarmes." 
 
 " Has it never been opened V inquired De Rosann. 
 
 " Once or twice I have myself visited it, to show my wife that I am 
 not afraid of ghosts or spirits," answered the farmer ; «' but as the 
 house is large enough for my small family, and for an occasional tra- 
 veller or friend, I have never thought of turning the chamber to any 
 use.' 1 
 
 " Well," cried Belle-Rose, rising from his chair, " if you will have the 
 goodness to conduct us to the haunted apartment, I will soon show you 
 that my courage is not to be intimidated by the ghosts of all the mur- 
 dered counts and marquises in France. But ere I receive any more 
 favours at your hands, my worthy host, will you excuse me if I be im- 
 pertinent in asking your name?" 
 
 " Louis Dorval, at your service," returned the farmer. 
 
 " I shall not forget it," said Belle-Rose. " Let us now proceed to 
 the mysterious chamber." 
 
 Dorval — since the reader is at present acquainted with the name of 
 the hospitable farmer— took the candlestick in his hand, and conducted 
 his two guests up a nanow staircase that terminated in a gallery, along 
 one side of which were windows looking into a yard at the back of the 
 house, and on the other were the doors of the various bedchambers. 
 At the end of the corridor was the apartment destined to receive De Ro- 
 sann and Belle-Rose. The lock for some time resisted the strong hand 
 of Dorval; but it eventually yielded to the rusty key, and the travellers 
 followed their guide into the haunted room. It w r as large and airy ; the 
 ceiling was somewhat discoloured here and there with damps, which the 
 
94 ALFRED ; OR ADVENTURES 
 
 beat of no occasional fire repressed ; and the bedsteads were mouldering 
 away as rapidly as disuse and worms could consume tliem. 
 
 11 Well — what do you think of the bedchamber wherein, you must this 
 night repose?" asked the farmer, holding up his candle to cast the light 
 into as wide a circumference as possible. 
 
 " I see no reason why it should not be very comfortable," answered 
 De Rosann. 
 
 " Nor I," added Belle-Rose, with a yawn. 
 
 " I perceive you are fatigued,'' said Dorval, if and desirous of a good 
 night's rest. Stay one moment, and I will fetch your mattresses." 
 
 The farmer left the room as he uttered these words, and returned in 
 a few minutes, laden with the necessary apnaratus for making up the^ 
 beds. The arrangements were speedily completed ; and having wished 
 our hero and his companion an undisturbed repose, he withdrew to his 
 own apartment. 
 
 No sooner had Louis Dorval closed the door of the haunted apartment, 
 as it was called, than Belle-Rose hastily threw off his clothes, and took 
 refuge against the damp air in his warm bed. De Rosann made two or 
 three remarks relative to the singularity of their arrival at the very house 
 in which Francois had been arrested; but a few unmeaning monosylla- 
 bles were all the replies he could obtain. He therefore relinquished the 
 unpleasant task of maintaining a conversation alone, and soon saw the 
 utility of so doing ; for a certain nasal music, emanating from Belle- 
 Rose's couch, made him aware of the attention which would be paid to 
 his discourse. 
 
 De Rosann himself did not experience the slightest inclination to sleep. 
 A thousand ideas occupied his mind, and repelled the advance of slum- 
 ber. He no longer felt fatigued with the effects of his day's journey, 
 nor did he once think of courting the charms of sleep by retiring to his 
 bed. He recollected that in the identical chamber, where he was now 
 seated, a murderer had reposed three and thirty years ago. Perhaps he 
 had slept in the very bed destined to receive himself. De Rosann was 
 not superstitious — he laughed in derision at the bare mention of a spirit, 
 or an allusion to the possibility of the existence of ghosts — he believed 
 that matter alone was visible, tangible, and capable of motion — he knew 
 that when the organized body, called Man, had rendered up its life, sen- 
 sations and organs performed their functions no longer, and that the 
 decomposing clay could not return from the dark tomb to whose jaws it 
 was consigned ; and at the moment when he found himself alone, as it 
 were — for Belle-Rose slept soundly — in the apartment that recalled a 
 thousand terrible images to his mind, he did not dread the sudden ap- 
 pearance of aught supernatural ; but he felt a species of indescribable 
 awe — an aversion to close his eyes — a nervousness that made him start 
 at each trivial sound — which the bravest occasionally feel when in pecu- 
 liar situations, and which are invariably experienced during a vigil by 
 the side of a corpse. 
 
 It was in vain that he endeavoured to change the subject of his 
 reflections. Imagination is often obstinate, as well as fanciful ; and we 
 may occasionally essay to turn the rush of torrents from their course, 
 or to roil back the Alpine avalanche, with the same chance of success 
 as hope to banish unpleasant ideas, in order to make room for felicitous 
 
OF A FRENCH GENTLEMAN. 95 
 
 ones. The gory head of Francois rolling away from the platform of 
 the guillotine — the disfigured trunk that remained upon the horizontal 
 plank — the shapeless mass of dead flesh which had fallen at his feet 
 during the riot, and which he knew was the massacred body of Edouard 
 — then the solemn silence of the -chamber, the dim flickering of the 
 candle, the dubious shadows it cast upon the wall, and the low respiration 
 of Belle- Rose, who, having changed his position, breathed hard no 
 longer — all these agitated the mind of De Kosann, and expelled every 
 inclination to slumber. 
 
 " This is childish !" he at length exclaimed, as he caught himself 
 looking fearfully round the room after a sudden noise: " I scarcely 
 ►know what I am doing — to be terrified at the sound of a mouse, or the 
 creaking of the timber — perhaps a beam opening, and evacuating con- 
 fined air, a circumstance which often happens in old houses:" — and he 
 endeavoured to laugh at his folly, but the echo returned his mirth in 
 such dismal reverberations, that they resembled human groans — or at 
 least his fancy invented the similitude. " And there are strangers in 
 the spacious dwelling," continued he, musing aloud : " how ridiculous it 
 would be to disturb them with my idle fears. Still this room is lonely — 
 a murderer has slept — that is to say, lodged here; for sleep could not 
 have visited his eyes. — A gentleman and two ladies — in a carriage, with 
 a servant — to condescend to honour these miserable walls with their 
 presence! —It would have been as well had that Louis Dorval not 
 troubled us with his tale about poor Francois — the unfortunate old man, 
 who was betrayed by Edouard, and was guillotined but so short a time 
 ago. Every one sleeps — Belle- Rose sleeps — all eyes in this house are 
 closed save mine ; and I cannot sleep. The idea of that old man — with 
 his grey hair— and they did not respect those hoary locks — but they 
 severed his head from his body ! And here am I, like the hero of some 
 romance, shut up in a haunted chamber, and afraid of my own shadow: 
 not even like the hero — for the first thing universally done in such 
 situations is to examine the apartment — an operation I have not yet 
 had the courage to perform." 
 
 Pleased with the idea, which partially renovated his sinking spirits, 
 De Kosann seized the candle, and walked round the room on tip- toe. 
 On each side of a spacious fire-place were large cupboards, with doors 
 carved in an antique style, standing half opened, and revealing the dusty 
 shelves within. Alfred cast a hasty glance into the first; but, as he 
 expected, found nothing. He then proceeded to the second, and was 
 about to retire after even a slighter investigation than he had bestowed 
 on the former recess, when a small bundle of'p'apers, entirely covered 
 with dust, met his eyes. A sudden idea struck him — rapidly as the 
 flash of lightning darts across the vaulted heaven. He placed the candle 
 on the mantle-piece, for table there was none; and having assured him- 
 self that Belle- Rose slept, he drew the packet from the corner wherein 
 it lurked. A thick piece of parchment, that had already materially 
 suffered from the damps, enveloped a quantity of papers, many of which 
 were half destroyed by age or vermin : several of them were, however, 
 still legible, and one or two existed entire, having escaped the tooth of 
 the mouse, and the undying hand of time. De Rosann cast a hasty 
 glance over the first that came to hand — the word " Denneville" met 
 
96 ALFRED; OR ADVENTURES 
 
 his eye ! Not a doubt that these were the documents of which Francois 
 made mention in his tale, remained in his mind ; and he hailed the 
 possession of those papers with an internal satisfaction, and a feeling 
 of delight, that he could not account for. 
 
 His first impulse was to sit down and decvpher one of the letters, 
 for such the documents proved to be : but at that moment a voice 
 within him appeared to ask, "If he were justified in perusing those 
 papers, and in retaining possession of them ? Was he certain no 
 relative to the deceased marquis still existed ? and if there were any- 
 surviving scions of the ancient family, would it not be a robbery to 
 withholcfdeeds that were perhaps important?" These reflections made 
 De Rosann hesitate; and then the fear that Belle-Rose might awake 
 and suspect the nature of his occupation, determined him to refrain 
 from satisfying his curiosity, at least for the present. He accordingly 
 divided the papers into two or three parcels, concealed them about his 
 person, and carefully burnt the parchment which had enveloped them, 
 as well as a few scraps where the writing was totally illegible, or 
 where there had never been any. 
 
 No sooner had De Rosann concluded this arrangement, than a 
 strange suspicion entered his mind that Belle-Rose was not asleep. 
 He gently approached the bed, and gazed upon the features of his 
 companion ; but not the slightest evidence appeared to support the 
 supposition. Belle-Rose slumbered tranquilly on his pillow — De 
 Rosann coughed somewhat loudly— and the noise produced no effect. 
 Our hero accordingly retreated towards his own couch, satisfied that 
 Belle-Rose did not feign the deep sleep in which he was apparently 
 wrapped. 
 
 And now a long; train of reflections was again awakened in the 
 mind of De Rosann. Two circumstances appeared to exercise a 
 vast influence over his future fortunes. The documents he had just 
 possessed himself of, and the secret service in which he was engaged, 
 were the arbiters of his destiny. But what was that secret service ? 
 who was Leblond? and where were the all-seeing, the omniscient 
 powers he was engaged to serve ? In the most civilised country on 
 the face of the earth, and in an enlightened age, a species of free- 
 masonry appeared to exist, which could control the actions of 
 the functionaries of the government itself— which could eman- 
 cipate criminals an^ the condemned at w T ill — which, with influence 
 as great as it was invisible, could protect its votaries in the far-off 
 provinces, and which slumbered in tranquillity and safety like the 
 train in the terrible mine, which will shortly explode and involve in 
 ruin those beneath whose very feet it has long been working 
 unsuspected and secure. But the more De Rosann pondered upon 
 this subject, the more was he lost in conjecture and doubt ; a strange 
 presentiment, however, told him that his own destinies were to be 
 worked out by those of others ; and all his bewildered mind could 
 resolve upon was to follow the stream of that fate which would either 
 carry him onward !;o success and fortune or to a condition of woe 
 and despair. 
 
OF A FRENCH GKNTLKMAN. 
 
 97 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 VARIOUS ENCOUNTERS. 
 
 When the condition of an individual is apparently the most forlorn and 
 pitiable — when the dark horizon of his own sphere is illuminated with 
 not one single gleam of hope — when the dark clouds of despair hover 
 around him — and when his mind is reduced to the lowest ebb of des- 
 pondency and sorrow, how suddenly may a bright meteor dart across 
 that gloomy horizon — how rapidly may the rays of the rising sun dis- 
 pel those dark clouds around him — and how quickly may hope and glad- 
 ness elate that mind, which only a few moments before entertained 
 almost the ideas of the darkly-brooding suicide. These are periods in 
 in the lives of all individuals : there breathes not a man of advanced age, 
 who has not had his chequered and sad moments as well as his joyous 
 and glad ones : but the hour of bitterness, when the gall is the most 
 nauseous, is the precursor of one of change, in which the cup shall be 
 filled with honey. 
 
 The possession of the mysterious papers quite changed the current of 
 De Rosann 's thoughts. He felt that were he to retire to his bed, he 
 could now taste the sweets of repose, and imitate tha example of his 
 companion. He no longer cast terrified glances round the dismal and 
 naked walls of the haunted apartment; the slightest sound failed to 
 startle him as it had done a quarter of an hour before. He therefore 
 determined to avail himself of the few hours that intervened between 
 the present moment and the morning, and seek a partial indemnification 
 for the gloomy vigils he had hitherto kept. But scarcely was his mind 
 made up to court the favours of Morpheus, when the sudden loud 
 barking of Azor called him to the window, and at the same moment 
 awoke Belle- Rose, who started up, rubbed his eyes, and inquired the 
 reason of so unseemly a clamour. 
 
 " I can discover nothing," said De Rosann, hanging half-way out 
 of the window which he had opened, and looking around with 
 straining eyes. 
 
 " What ! you have not been in bed, then?" exclaimed Belle-Rose, 
 noticing that his companion was still drest. 
 
 " I have not taken off my clothes," returned De Rosann. " But can 
 you conceive the cause of this incessant barking? The dog evidently 
 hears or sees something strange." 
 
 " What o'clock do you suppose it to be ?" inquired Belle-Rose. 
 
 " About one, or half past," was the reply. 
 
 " Impossible, my dear fellow! See how light it is." 
 
 " And yet that glare is quite sudden," remarked De Rosann ; " it is 
 not the dawn of morning : all round the eastern horizon, where it should 
 be' light, the clouds are quite dark; and immediately above our heads, 
 there is a strange lustre. ' 
 13 
 
98 ALFRED ; OR ADVEVTTRES 
 
 u Mille bombes! De Rosann," ejaculated Belle-Rose, after a pause of 
 some minutes ; " do you not find the atmosphere very oppressive?" 
 
 " I thought so, and was about to notice the circumstance: there is 
 moreover a suffocating smell." 
 
 " And that smell is of fire, as sure as we are living men !" cried 
 Belle- Rose, hastily quitting the window, and putting on his clothes with 
 all possible despatch. 
 
 " The dog barks incessantly," observed De Rosann : "the light 
 increases above the house, and the air becomes heavier : I am certain 
 there is a fire somewhere." 
 
 " Wait one instant for me, and we will descend the stairs together: if 
 there be any danger, we can alarm the inmates of the house ; if not, we 
 may return quietly to our beds." 
 
 But the intentions of Belle- Rose were anticipated: for at the moment 
 he had uttered the last syllable of these words, the voice of Louis 
 Dorval was heard in the enclosure below, crying out " Fire! fire !" — 
 then the noise of his footsteps, as he ascended the stairs, and rushed up 
 and down the corridor, knocking at the doors, and repeating his terrible 
 call, showed that he was on the alert. 
 
 Not, when in the prisons of the Inquisition the awful command to 
 prepare for the celebration of the auto-da-fe was passed round to those 
 who were condemned to suffer — nor, when in the gallant vessel, that 
 laboured to the storm, the heart-rending shout of " A rock ! a rock I" 
 echoed along the sea-washed decks — not even there did those appalling 
 news create more terror, than was experienced by the female inmates of 
 the farm-house, as the fearful warning which Dorval gave at every 
 door met their ears. 
 
 Belie-Rose and De Rosann descended to the yard to ascertain which 
 part of the house was on fire, and whether it were not possible to arrest 
 the progress of the ravaging element. But the whole of the roof was 
 enveloped in flames, that ascended in high and bright columns like the 
 eruption from the mounts of yEtna or Vesuvius. The immediate 
 vicinity of the spacious dwelling was as light as day ; and the glare was 
 almost too dazzling for the eye to support. There was not a breath of 
 wind to agitate or excite the fire ; but the house was old, rafters and 
 beams of wood had been chiefly used in erecting it, and an immense 
 quantity of straw occupied a portion of the loft, or grenier, between the 
 second floor and the angular roof. There was consequently ample fuel 
 to feed the spreading flames ; and our hero and his comrade soon saw 
 the impossibility of saving the house from an entire conflagration. 
 
 Having mournfully and hastily satisfied themselves on this head, they 
 immediately turned their attention to the saving of the furniture, and to 
 assist the two ladies, and the sick wife of the unfortunate Dorval, to 
 escape from the burning pile in safety. The farmer himself behaved 
 like a man of courage and resolution on the occasion. He saw as well 
 as De Rosann and Belle-Rose that it was ridiculous to think of stopping 
 the fire ; and instead of giving way to useless grief, he bestirred himself 
 to extricate as much of his property as he was able from the building, 
 which would soon be a heap of ruins. Fortunately his wife, by means 
 of an extraordinary exertion, was enabled to rise from her bed, ill as 
 she was, and walk slowly down stairs ; but the poor woman appeared to 
 

 o /A^ OS*, . 
 
OF A FRENCH GENTLEMAN. rQ 
 
 be stupified with alarm and horror at the dreadful loss her husband 
 would experience;, and no sooner did she arrive in the open air, than *he 
 fainted. Belle-Rose and Dorval placed the helpless female in a chair, 
 and conveyed her to an adjoining barn, where they administered the 
 proper remedies to recover her. 
 
 In the meantime De Rosann had re-entered the house, and sought the 
 apartments of the ladies, naturally supposing that the one, whose ankle 
 was sprained, would require assistance. Just as he was about to knock 
 at the first door, it was thrown open, and the younger of the ladies 
 rushed out, calling loudly for the servant and the gentleman that accom- 
 panied them. There was no candle in the corridor ; but the glare of 
 the flames rendered it as light as day. De Rosann cast one glance upon 
 the beautiful girl who had issued from the chamber — that fairy form, 
 that lovely face, that melodious voice were too well impressed upon his 
 memory ever to be forgotten — he uttered an exclamation of joy — and in 
 a moment Eloise was clasped in the arms of her lover. 
 
 " Your mother and uncle are with you?" inquired Alfred hastily. 
 
 " Yes — but you, dear Alfred — how have you escaped from that 
 odious place?" inquired Eloise, forgetful at the instant of all the world 
 save him she adored. 
 
 " To-morrow — presently — I will tell you all, dear Eloise, ' answered 
 the young man ; " at this moment let us think of your mother." 
 
 And with these words he imprinted another kiss upon the chaste brow 
 of that affectionate girl, then gently disengaged himself from her fervent 
 embrace, and hurried into the room to assist the parent of his -beloved 
 Eloise. 
 
 " Do not be astonished at my presence here, Mrs. Clayton !" cried De 
 Rosann ; " but haste and save yourself, for the fire gains upon us." 
 
 " Alfred de Rosann!" exclaimed the mother, sinking back in her 
 chair, as if she were confronted by a spectre. 
 
 " Yes — 'tis I, madam," returned the youth : " hasten, I pray you — 
 we can talk anon — this is no time or place for explanation. Support 
 yourself well on my arm — Eloise, assist your mother the other side — and 
 now away from this chamber." 
 
 Mrs. Clayton was scarcely able to walk, her ankle pained her to such 
 a degree ; and the party would have moved onwards but slowly, had not 
 Mr. Clayton stepped forward and made his niece resign her place to 
 him. His astonishment on recognizing De Rosann was equal to that 
 of his companions when they first respectively saw the young man, whom 
 they deemed to be shackled in an ignominious gaol ; but his joy equalled 
 his astonishment, and he addressed a few words of kindness to our hero 
 in the most affectionate manner. Eloise inwardly thanked the good man 
 who had exemplified so unequivocal a proof of his regard for her and 
 her lover ; and she sighed heavily when she thought of the different wel- 
 come Alfred had received from her mother. 
 
 Arrived with difficulty in the court-yard, Mrs. Clayton was conducted 
 to the out-house, where the farmer's wife already lay on a bed hastily 
 contrived of mattresses, &c, as those objects were saved piecemeal from 
 the ravages of the fire. It was a species of barn, in which the ladies 
 were fain to take refuge ; and being situate at a little distance from the 
 fiouse, there was no danger of the mes communicating to its roof, 
 
100 
 
 ALFRSJ); OR ADVENTURES 
 
 which was composed of thatched straw, as is usual with buildings of the 
 kind. 
 
 Eloise did all she possibly could to console her suffering parent, while 
 De Rosann joined Belle-Rose and Dorval in their herculean task of re- 
 moving the furniture from the burning house to the extremity of the 
 enclosure, so that the falling firebrands might not reach any in- 
 flammable matter. Mr. Clayton aided the servant in securing the trunks 
 and goods which had been brought from the carriage and transported to 
 the apartments whence himself and the ladies were now exiled by the 
 conflagration. 
 
 Meantime the fire had rapidly increased, and a great portion of the 
 roof had already fallen in. The red flames emitted volumes of black 
 smoke, pieces of burning wood fell in all directions, and the progress of 
 the destructive element resembled the sound of a distant tide flowing in 
 on a beachy shore without the occasional intervals caused by the reacting 
 ebb. The countenances of those who laboured hard to save the effects 
 of the unfortunate Louis Dorval, were rendered hideous by the glare of 
 yellow light that gave an unnatural tinge to every thing within its scope ; 
 and their figures, increased to gigantic stature in the deceptive lustre, 
 appeared to be those of devils hovering round an accursed furnace, in 
 which the souls of the damned were suffering endless torments. 
 
 Presently the entire roof gave way with a hideous crash ; and for an 
 instant the flames appeared to be totally extinguished, a thick cloud of 
 smoke ascending in their place. Then all was dark and sombre : but in 
 a minute the fire burst forth with renewed vigour, as a combatant returns 
 to the charge more furiously after a momentary rest. So terrible was 
 the heat, that the farmer and his generous assistants were at length obliged 
 to retire from the immediate vicinity of the house, having rescued nearly 
 every thing from the increasing desolation : the panes of glass melted 
 away from their frames, and did not break ; rafters, planks, and tiles 
 fell with appalling din ; smoke mingled with flame — staircases and floors 
 gave way — the bare walls alone remained. 
 
 Morning now dawned on the pile of ruins, and the beams of the rising 
 sun glanced upon the devastation as if it were still the large and joyous 
 dwelling that greeted their presence the day before. Alas I what a 
 change had taken place in a few short hours : a single night was suffi- 
 cient to rob the unfortunate Louis Dorval of half his little possessions. 
 When too late, he recollected that his own carelessness must have caused 
 the fire ; he had ascended to the loft with a candle to fetch the mat- 
 tresses for Belle- Rose and De Rosann; a spark had most probably 
 caught the straw that was piled there in quantities ; and the ruin of his 
 paternal dwelling might be traced to one of those combinations of cir- 
 cumstances over which mankind has apparently no control. 
 
 At a distance of about a hundred yards from the out-house or barn 
 where the females had taken refuge, was situate the stable. Belle- 
 Rose, who had worked like a slave in the cause of the farmer, and who 
 found that he could do no more good by standing idly in the neighbour- 
 hood of the smoking ruins, joyfully hailed a manger as a comfortable 
 couch " for the rest of the night," to use a common expression, although 
 the sun had already risen above the eastern horizon. He quietly opened 
 the door ; and having assured himself that there were no dogs to dispute 
 
OF A FRENCH GKNTLKMAN. ]Q1 
 
 his right of entrance into the sorry abode, he was about to betake him- 
 self to a bundle of hay which was spread in the midst of 'he stable, 
 when he recollected that De Rosann might also stand in ne^d of sleep. 
 He accordingly sallied forth, and made known his discovery to our hero, 
 who was far from displeased at the prospect of enjoying an hour's re- 
 pose, not having closed his eyes the whole night. They entered the 
 stable, and carefully shut the door to expel the advances of the morning 
 air, which imparted a shivering to their frames, and penetrated to the 
 very marrow of their bones. Having taken this precaution, and wished 
 each other a comfortable slumber, they lay down together upon the in- 
 viting hay ; but their bed apparently possessed a considerable degree of 
 elasticity ; for by a sudden movement, which agitated the bundle from 
 its very foundation, they were both hurled off, and thrown violently one 
 on one side, and one on the other. Belle-Rose stretched out his arm to 
 save himself, and his clenched fist encountered something, neither hard 
 nor soft, that seemed to bear a most remarkable resemblance to the cheek 
 of a human being. A momentary terror seized upon him — he thought 
 he had encountered the touch of a dead body ; but a loud cry, which he 
 well knew did not proceed from the lips of De Rosann, reassured him 
 on this head, and he started on his feet to search for the individual who 
 had alarmed him. In an instant the whole bundle of hay flew to the 
 other extremity of the stable, exposing to the view of our hero and his 
 companion the elongated countenance and petrified form of the gastro- 
 nomer, Champignon. 
 
 The astonishment of Belle-Rose and De Rosann, when the length- 
 ened countenance of Champignon met their eyes, may be well conceived ; 
 nor did the gastronomer, on his part, omit a few ejaculations, expressive 
 of wonder at being thus discovered by his two quondam acquaintances. 
 A more ludicrous scene cannot be easily imagined. They all three 
 stared at each other with their mouths wide open, undecided whether to 
 put an end to the ridicule of the situation in which they found them- 
 selves by a hearty laugh, or by immediate questions and answers of ex- 
 planation. Champignon, particularly, would have excited the risible 
 muscles of the most sedate and saturnine being in the world. His small 
 grey eyes were dilated to an unusual extent, so that his very forehead 
 was contracted into a thousand wrinkles ; pieces of straw and hay were 
 mingled with his unkempt hair ; his lips apart " grinned horribly a 
 ghastly smile," like Milton's Death, displaying two rows of large white 
 teeth, almost reaching from ear to ear. He had raised himself to a 
 sitting posture the moment his tegument of hay was mercilessly kicked 
 off him. His hands were lifted up in mute marvel, and his legs were 
 crouched under his corpulent person. It was impossible to gaze at him 
 without a smile ; but Belle- Rose, who was the most unceremonious man 
 in existence, did not content himself with so simple a relaxation of his 
 now serious countenance; he burst into a loud laugh, to the additional 
 confusion of the gastronomer ; and as we naturally exhibit more feeling 
 and sincere sympathy in a fellow-creature's mirth than in his distress, 
 De Rosann soon imitated the facetious Pierre, and regaled himself at the 
 expense of Champignon, in repeated shouts of hilarity, which brought 
 tears to his eyes. 
 
 " Nothing could have been better !" exclaimed Belle- Rose j " I would 
 not have lost this sight for all the world." 
 
102 ALFRED; OR ADVENTURES 
 
 " Your jocularity would have been more adroitly placed, methinks," 
 returned Champignon gravely, " after a substantial breakfast. An empty 
 stomach is not good to laugh upon." 
 
 " Did you not sup last night, then, before you lay down to rest in the 
 manger ?" inquired De Rosann. 
 
 " In truth, did I, and the raging of my appetite was assuaged with 
 viands that I cooked myself," answered the gastronomer, a smile of 
 satisfaction playing on his countenance ; " still it is no reason why we 
 should not breakfast." 
 
 " Breakfast at daybreak J" cried Belle-Rose. 
 
 u Ah . is it so early ? I awoke about an hour ago — to the best of 
 my recollection — and fancied the sun was rising ; but not having reco- 
 vered from the fatigues I endured yesterday, I determined to indulge in a 
 little more sleep ; and in order to do so with additional comfort, I en- 
 sconced myself beneath the hay, of which you have just disencumbered 
 me." 
 
 " Parbleu ! he has mistaken the glow occasioned by the fire, for the 
 rising of the sun I" ejaculated Belle-Rose. 
 
 " Fire ! " echoed Champignon, starting from his unpleasant posture, 
 and seating himself in an easier one, while Belle- Rose proceeded to relate 
 the circumstances attending the dreadful conflagration, of which our 
 readers are already aware. 
 
 " You did not save any of the cold turkey you alluded to ? " asked 
 Champignon, when Pierre had terminated his tale. 
 
 " God knows!" replied Belle-Rose carelessly. " By the bye," he 
 added, after a moment's pause, " since I have had the good nature to 
 satisfy your curiosity, my worthy friend of the Cadran Rouge, you may 
 as well do the same good office towards us, and recount the particulars 
 of your escape from the bagne, whereat you commenced to be a mighty 
 favourite. I cannot answer for De Rosann ; but as far as regards my- 
 self, I do not experience the slightest inclination to sleep. ♦ The singu- 
 larity of this encounter has quite banished all ideas of seeking repose 
 from my mind ; and I shall listen to your narrative with pleasure." 
 
 " Not for worlds would I forego the proposed amusement," said 
 De Rosann ; " so let us seat ourselves on the hay, and attend to adven- 
 tures which can be no otherwise than amusing." 
 
 " As for adventures," cried Champignon, " God knows I have passed 
 through enough of them in a little space of time ; and if you will pro- 
 mise not to interrupt me, for I cannot bear interruptions, your curiosity 
 shall be immediately gratified." 
 
 " Do not be alarmed on that head," answered Belle-Rose ; " T myself 
 am attention personified, and De Rosann will readily give the assurance 
 you require; — so no more nonsense, and commence." 
 
 " I always made it a rule in my kitchen" — began Champignon, assum- 
 ing an important air. 
 
 " For God's sake," cried Belle-Rose, " let alone your kitchen during 
 a short half hour, and tell us how you effected your escape from Brest." 
 
 " Notwithstanding your promises, you interrupted me before I had 
 completed ten words," said the gastronomer sulkily. 
 
 " Because your prelude seemed to menace a long culinary disserta- 
 tion," returned Belle Rose ; " and much as I respect your talents in that 
 
OF A FRENCH GENTLEMAN. 103 
 
 line, I do not see the necessity of beginning a history of adventures 
 with a paragraph from the cookery-book." 
 
 " Be so kind as to suffer me to proceed in my own way," persisted 
 Champignon, " or to hold my tongue at once and for all. I was saying 
 that I made it an invariable rule in my kitchen, at the Cadran Rouge, 
 which, as you may recollect, was set up in opposition to the monopoly 
 so unjustly maintained by the Cadran Bleu — " 
 
 " In the name of God, what has that to do with your flight from the 
 galleys ?" ejaculated Belle-Rose, impatiently. 
 
 " It has a great deal to do with my history," returned Champignon, 
 annoyed at being interrupted a second time. 
 
 " Not if you commence from the 22nd of May, 1830, the day of 
 FranQois' execution, of Edouard's murder, and of our escape," said 
 Belle-Rose. 
 
 " Only permit me to complete my first sentence, and you will in a 
 moment perceive the bearing and purport of the words with which I 
 commenced my tale." 
 
 " Endeavour to restrain your impatience, my dear Belle-Rose," said 
 De Rosann ; " or we shall never get to the end of the narrative." 
 
 "Proceed, then," muttered Pierre; "and give us as little about 
 your dishes, and as much about yourself, as you possibly can." 
 
 " You shall be obeyed," answered Champignon : " Attend. I had 
 established it as an invariable rule in my kitchen, at the Cadran Rouge, 
 that to do things well, the strictest order and regularity must be ob- 
 served, even in the most trifling matters : the same rule will be now 
 applied to my entertaining history." 
 
 " Thank God ! " exclaimed Belle-Rose, fervently. 
 
 The npo Xiyofxeva being achieved," added De Rosann. 
 
 " I was chained to an individual," continued Champignon, heedless 
 of these remarks, " who seemed determined to assist the most tumultuous 
 of his companions, instead of acting as a peace-maker and mediator. I 
 ventured to remonstrate with him on the depravity of such conduct ; 
 but he told me it was not Sunday, that he did not understand preaching, 
 and that if I could not hold my tongue he would apply something to my 
 mouth, to close it effectually. At that instant, a sudden movement on 
 the part of the general mass gave us so violent a shock, that our shackles 
 were pulled different ways, and caused us a momentary pain. My com- 
 rade was furious ; he swore that I lagged behind on purpose to annoy 
 him ; and when I opened my lips to utter an assurance to the contrary, 
 he gave me such a blow with the flat of his hand, that I fell to the 
 ground, dragging my brutal assailant after me. He cursed and swore 
 like a mad-man, because the pressure of the crowd knocked us one 
 against the other, and prevented us from rising. While we were thus 
 plunging about in the dirt, my eye caught sight of a small shining 
 object that lay near me. I picked it up, and instantly recognised one 
 of those keys which were used to lock our chains. You may laugh, 
 gentlemen," said Champignon, noticing that Belle-Rose and De 
 Rosann exchanged certain glances, the significance of which he totally 
 misunderstood; " but I can assure you it is a fact. How the key 
 came there, God only knows : it was however a key, and a very 
 useful one; for it unlocked my side of the chain in a moment, 
 
104 ALFRED ; OR ADVENTURES 
 
 and thus allowed me to rise from the ground. My compan- 
 ion could not fancy how I had liberated myself: and I persuaded 
 him, that the weakness of the lock alone must have accidentally 
 separated me from him. Had he been an object worthy of com- 
 miseration, I should have immediately entrusted him with the secret. 
 As it was, I kept my own counsel, and gradually edged off to as 
 great a distance from the brutal convict as possible, till I at length 
 found myself close to the door communicating with the hall, at the 
 extremity of which is situate the principal entrance to the prison. 
 At that moment, the pressure of the crowd was very great in the 
 spot where I was standing ; and several Gendarmes and soldiers 
 were forcing their way through the multitude to arrest the most 
 riotous, and to compel the others to cease from encouraging the dis- 
 order. No one paid any attention to me, because I remained tran- 
 quil ; but I gazed intently on all that was passing in the vicinity of 
 the door. Presently I noticed a terrible scuffle between a convict 
 and a Gendarme. You may probably recollect that on account of 
 the dreadful chill of the morning, the Gendarmes arrived in their 
 cloaks. The one who was now wrestling with the galley-slave, was 
 encumbered by his. A sudden motion, however, soon deprived him 
 of it, and the mantle rolled almost under my feet. In an instant 
 his cocked hat followed the cloak — the scuffle continued — no one 
 took any notice of the fallen objects — and presently another move- 
 ment of the crowd left a clear space opposite the door. I hastily 
 put on the cloak and the hat, knocked as loudly as I could at the 
 gate, and when it was opened, rushed into the hall, crying, * The 
 guard ! the guard ! ' Neither the turnkeys nor the sentries suspected 
 my intentions — they took me for a real Gendarme — my trousers 
 escaped their notice — and the front door was immediately thrown 
 open to afford me egress." 
 
 " Bravo ! " cried Belle-Rose, unable to contain his admiration : 
 " give me your hand, Champignon ; I did not think you capable, 
 mv brave fellow, of so daring a deed. 'Twas excellent — delicious V 
 
 u Ah ! ah !" chuckled the gastronomer ; " we do things well, 
 when we have a mind, eh V 
 
 " You are a man of wonderful parts !" 
 
 '' My name will yet be handed down to posterity," cried Cham- 
 pignon, delighted with the adulation of Belle-Rose. " Only wait 
 till mv cotelettes a la quadrille get into vogue, and Europe shall talk 
 of me." 
 
 " The journals mention your name already," said Pierre. 
 
 " Indeed! you do not mean what you say, my dear, kind, good 
 Belle-Rose. Oh ! if I knew the manner in which they speak of me ! 
 of course it is to praise my gastronomical knowledge. But which 
 journal is it that does me so much honour !' ' enquired the delighted 
 Champignon. 
 
 " Most likely the Armoricain de Brest " answered Belle-Rose 
 drily. 
 
 " Is it possible that my fame could have followed me from Paris? " 
 
 " Not that I know of," replied Pierre ; " neither have I seen the 
 Brest newspaper ; but you may rely upon one thing— which is, 
 
m l : 1 ■ Ife? 
 
 
 ^ / ■ ■,. 
 
OP A FRENCH GENTLEMAN. 1 (). r ) 
 
 that you, myself, and De Rosann, with our full descriptions, have 
 already figured as fugitive convicts amongst its advertising columns." 
 
 u And that is the way my name has been brought before the pub- 
 lic, then," said Champignon in a melancholy tone of voice. 
 
 " Exactly," returned Belle-Rose with an emphasis on his laconic 
 answer, that increased the disappointment of the ex-restaurateur. 
 
 " But pray continue your interesting narrative," exclaimed De 
 Rosann ; "you left off in the most entertaining part : I am dying 
 to hear how you escaped from the town in your Gendarme's cloak 
 and cocked hat" 
 
 " If you choose to pay attention, and neither interrupt me with 
 adulation nor with blame, I will conclude the history of my adven- 
 tures," said Champignon ; and having received the promise 
 demanded, he proceeded as follows. " No sooner had I left the 
 prison walls, than I hurried down two or three streets as quickly as 
 my legs would carry me, uncertain whither to go, a perfect stranger 
 in Brest, and fearful of being arrested every moment. At length I 
 saw an old-clothes shop in a narrow lane ; and knowing that I must 
 entrust my secret to somebody to procure a change of raiment, I 
 rushed into the house, knocked down a chair in which a large cat was 
 reposing, trampled on the paw of a surly dog, that commenced a 
 barking deafening to the ear, and ran against an old man who issued 
 from a chamber adjoining his shop, to ascertain the meaning of so 
 extraordinary a disturbance. At first he was purple through inten- 
 sity of ire ; but I gradually succeeded in pacifying his wrath ; and 
 he listened to my tale with the greatest attention. The Gendarme's 
 cloak was almost new, and the cocked hat was in tolerable condi- 
 tion. I offered them in exchange for any suit of clothes he chose 
 to give me ; and a bargain was soon made to our mutual satisfaction. 
 Just as I was about to leave the shop, the old man enquired if I had 
 a passport; — ' Because,' said he, 'on account of the disturbance in 
 the bagne, no one will be permitted to leave the town without pro- 
 ducing his papers.' — I frankly confessed I had none ; and my 
 dilemma appeared to be as great as ever : but in a moment an 
 idea struck me, and I addressed the salesman as follows : — ' My 
 worthy friend and benefactor,' said I, 'you must not do things by 
 halves, nor suffer a fellow-creature to be arrested for want of a little 
 assistance. You have accommodated me with a seedy coat and a 
 patched pair of pantaloons, and you may as well lend me your pass- 
 port. There is not much difference between us — except that I am 
 somewhat younger and better-looking — and your nose is most infer- 
 nally crooked ; added to which I might notice a slight squint — but, 
 barring those defects, you are as like me as a couple of fowls or a 
 pair of partridges.' — The old man saw he could not get rid of me un- 
 less he acceded to my request ; and he knew if I were arrested in 
 his shop, it would go hard with him for having afforded protection 
 to &forcat evade; so he generously handed over his passport, and 
 wished me a pleasant journey. I thanked him, and sallied forth not 
 exactly in search of adventures, but to avoid them as much as 
 possible." 
 
 '" Never was there a less Quixotic plan, nor one coupled at the 
 same time with more difficulty," interrupted Belle-Rose 
 
 14 
 
106 ALFRED, OR ADVENTURES 
 
 " Stay — and let us hear the result," said De Rosann. 
 
 " I succeeded in passing through the gates of the town," con- 
 tinued Champignon, " by the aid of the old clothesman's passport, 
 notwithstanding the strict examination to which it was subjected. 
 Under the denomination of signes particulieres* was mentioned its 
 late owner's habit of squinting; and I experienced the greatest 
 difficulty in looking at my nose with my left eye during the five 
 minutes that the Gendarmes wasted in comparing my person with the 
 descriptive items of the false passport. No sooner had I obtained 
 permission to continue my journey, than the roar of the cannon 
 from the citadel deafened my ears, and produced as great an effect 
 upon me as did the fall of a tray, on which was an excellent dinner 
 of my own cooking, one fine day, at the Cadran Rouge. To my 
 astonishment the guns gave warning of the escape of three convicts ; 
 and I recollect saying to myself, as I turned into a thick wood at a 
 little distance from the glacis, ' How I wish that the other two — 
 myself being safe — were the worthy Messieurs De Rosann and 
 Belle-Rose!' — You appear incredulous; but it is as true as that 
 I can serve up a dejeuner d la fourchette better than any man in 
 Christendom." 
 
 " We believe you," said Belle-Rose, " having made the same 
 remark relative to yourself: so proceed." 
 
 " The moment I entered the wood, instead of hastening towards 
 the middle as quickly as I could, I turned immediately to the 
 right; and seeing a dense thicket close by, I concealed myself 
 within its friendly mazes, sagely concluding that when the Gend- 
 armes went to search the shady labyrinth of trees, they would not 
 look in the mere outskirts for the object of their visit. Seated upon 
 some dead leaves, I put my right hand to my forehead, and my left 
 hand to my hip, as is my custom when I am about to debate within 
 my own mind on any imjportant matter — such as the various dishes 
 that ought to compose the different courses of a diner soigne, or the 
 articles in the bill to which I could best add a few extra francs 
 without exciting the suspicion of a guest — and began seriously to 
 consider what steps I ought to take in my present forlorn predica- 
 ment. Having reflected at least three hours without coming to any 
 positive decision, save that I must look out for a dinner, which I 
 should have had no objection to cook myself, if any one had sup- 
 plied me with aliments and materials, I left my thicket, and walked 
 slowly into the recesses of the wood. Presently, to my joy and 
 delight, a cottage met my eyes. I moved towards it, and stood 
 ten minutes at the door without venturing to knock. At length it 
 suddenly opened, and a little girl made her appearance on the 
 threshold. She was startled when she saw me ; I, however, 
 addressed her in that gentle tone which I can assume at pleasure, 
 and requested somewhat to eat. My piteous harangue was, how- 
 ever, cut short by the sight of a blear-eyed old woman, with a pipe 
 in her mouth, puffing away like a steam-packet. She did not, 
 however, mean to interrupt me ; but merely stepped forward to 
 
 * Particular marks about the person : such as scars, the traces of the small- pox, 
 lameness, &c. &c. 
 
OF A FRENCH GENTLEMAN. 107 
 
 listen. I renewed all my plaintive and touching representations, 
 declared I was a soldier who had been at Algiers, and had just 
 returned from a dreadful campaign. The little girl, with a certain 
 comical expression of countenance, asked me if the province of 
 Madagascar were not in a state of revolution, and if the king of 
 China had not made war against the French. These questions 
 startled me a little — but supposing that the news were authentic, 
 chat the little girl had heard of them by some means or other, and 
 that an old soldier should not be ignorant of such important 
 political events, I replied boldly in the affirmative, adding that I 
 had myself been employed against the Chinese. The girl smiled, 
 and renewed her questions, which were more extraordinary than 
 the others; namely, * whether I had seen the king of China, 
 whether he did not stand ten feet high, and whether his cattle were 
 not dressed in steel jackets and wadded pelisses ?' I began to fancy 
 that the child had a mind to banter me, and accordingly thought 
 to humour her whims by continually answering yes to every thing 
 she said. In the middle of the conversation a sturdy peasant came 
 up, and was saluted by the name of 4 Father' on the part of the little 
 girl. He asked my business; I told him the same tale I had 
 already narrated to his daughter and the old woman ; and the mis- 
 chievous Jeannette — for so her father called her — added all the 
 wonders about the Chinese, Madagascar, et cetera, et cetera. When 
 she had concluded, I looked towards the peasant to ascertain the 
 impression such marvels had made upon him; but he turned 
 sharply round, muttered a remark about the increase of liars in the 
 world, and told me to go to the devil, as coolly as I am now talking 
 to you." 
 
 De Rosann and Belle-Rose had hitherto maintained a certain 
 gravity during the latter part of Champignon's recital : but when 
 he mentioned the indignation of the cottager, whom they both 
 recognised as the Draconic Claude, it was impossible to suppress 
 their laughter any longer. Champignon thought it was occasioned 
 by the singularity of his adventures, and joined in the mirth of his 
 companions till tears ran down his cheeks. 
 
 " You may suppose that I was not very well pleased with the 
 answer of the brutal peasant to my courteous language," continued 
 Champignon, when order was re-established in the stable — for the 
 reader must not forget where this narrative was told : " but I was 
 obliged to retire from the cottage, although not to visit the black 
 gentleman to whom I was so uncivilly recommended. The whole 
 of that weary day did I wander about the wood, and at night-fail, 
 just as I had made up my mind to emerge into the open fields, a 
 sudden rustling amongst the leaves, succeeded by violent shouts of 
 laughter, made me again take to a rapid flight and conceal myself 
 for another hour. When those sixty long minutes had expired, I 
 sallied forth once more ; and after a tolerably tedious walk, I at 
 length came to a large cottage, where lights were still burning. I 
 knocked, and was this time received with civility, if not with 
 absolute kindness. According to my native modesty, I merely 
 requested an outhouse, or the pigstye, to sleep in, naturally ex- 
 
108 ALFRED; OR ADVENTURES 
 
 pecting to be offered a bed. But the peasant, to whom the cottage 
 belonged, took me at my word, and conducted your humble servant 
 to the pigstye. To indemnify me, however, for this bad lodging, 
 he produced a copious supper, which was not indifferently cooked, 
 by the bye — and the following morning he made me a present of a 
 suit of clothes, because my own were rather dirty, on account of a 
 battle which took place between me and the pig." 
 
 "And then what became of you ?" enquired Belle-Rose, seeing 
 that Champignon hesitated. 
 
 " You shall hear in a moment : but first, allow me to recover a 
 little breath." 
 
 " As much as you like," returned Belle-Rose : " only make 
 haste, for it will shortly be time for us to think of breakfast." 
 
 " In that case," said Champignon, " I am at your service : listen. 
 Nothing of importance occurred the day before yesterday— nor 
 yesterday, until the evening. I begged a dinner at about two or 
 three o'clock from some worthy peasants, who did not inundate me 
 with stupid questions, and then tell me to go to the devil, like the 
 uncouth father of little Jeannette : but they gave me some soup, in 
 which they had not put enough salt, and some bouilli boiled to 
 rags. I, however, accepted their bounty with many thanks, and 
 merely hinted to them the defects I found in the cookery of the 
 viands, that they might improve by my advice on future occasions. 
 They did not appear very well pleased with these insinuations, 
 and muttered something about ' beggars not being choosers.' I re- 
 peated my thanks, and walked onwards, tolerably satisfied with the 
 meal. It was my wish to reach St. Malo last night, as I have a 
 cousin residing in that town, to whom I had an opportunity of 
 rendering some pecuniary service in the days of the Cadran Rouge ; 
 and I know he will receive me with kindness till I establish myself 
 once more in a place, where by change of name, or other pre- 
 cautions, I can avoid the cunning of the Gendarmes. But about 
 nine o'clock I found myself again overtaken by hunger, and was 
 obliged to solicit a supper at a" cottage not half an hour's walk from 
 this very spot. I was well received by a young man and his wife, 
 who invited me to enter and partake of their repast. The viands, 
 which were not yet cooked, were produced ; and to my astonish- 
 ment I saw displayed upon the table a rabbit, three or four wood- 
 cocks, and a hare.* A moment's reflection told me that my host 
 was doubtless a poacher, such excellent cheer being considerably at 
 variance with the miserable appearance of the hut. I did not, 
 however, make any allusion to his supposed profession, but volun- 
 teered my services'to dress the provisions, telling the man and his 
 wife that I was the first cook in Europe, as they should soon have 
 good reason to know. The supper was speedily submitted to the 
 indispensable agency of the fire, and a short time saw the com- 
 estibles so exquisitely arranged, as to be capable of tempting the 
 daintiest appetites that formerly visited the Cadran Rouge. The 
 founders of the feast were in raptures; they had no idea of the 
 
 * The French eat game throughout the year. 
 
OF A FRENCH GENTLEMAN. 109 
 
 necessity of a toast underneath, and of vine-leaves on the breasts of 
 the woodcocks, nor of the manner in which a hare should be trussed. 
 Indeed, the woman herself acknowledged to me, during the meal, 
 that she had often boiled her game for the* sake of variety. Her 
 husband was in a particularly good humour; and as he sipped his 
 sour wine after supper, he pressed me so earnestly to tell him my 
 whole history, that I candidly confessed my escape from the galleys, 
 and my anxiety to reach St. Malo. At the word galleys he became 
 furious. His wife endeavoured to appease her husband's wrath : 
 but he swore that if he had known he was entertaining a fugitive 
 convict, he would have kicked me out long ago. < By the God 
 who made me/ he cried, ■ I shall never forget this disgrace.'—' Are 
 you not a poacher?' said I ; * and do you not daily run the chance 
 of going to Brest yourself?'— ■< Audacious scoundrel !' returned the 
 man, his choler rising to so dreadful a degree, that I was glad to 
 escape from the reach of his violence. But before I was beyond 
 ear-shot, I heard him quarrelling with his wife, who said in a 
 taunting tone, « You know you have been twice to the galleys 
 already ; and you reproach that unfortunate stranger for the same 
 thing.'— yrhat is the very reason why we must endeavour to appear 
 more scrupulous in the eyes of the world,' was the answer. I did 
 not stay to listen to their conversation farther ; but left the vicinity 
 of the cottage with all possible speed, congratulating myself on the 
 good supper I had cooked and partaken of. In half an hour I 
 heard the barking of the dog at this farm-house ; and by a circuitous 
 route obtained access to the stable in which I have had the honour 
 to encounter my present companions." 
 
 " Never have I heard more pleasant adventures," cried Belle- 
 Rose, when Champignon had ceased speaking : " and I thank you 
 particularly, my worthy knight-errant, for having interlarded your 
 discourse with as few culinary ideas as possible. All things have their 
 proper places ; and be assured that you ought not to mix pepper- 
 corns with pudding, nor ashes with bread." 
 
 "I understand your allusion," returned Champignon, who re- 
 lished advice about as little as did the peasants he described in 
 his history as having forgotten salt to their soup. 
 
 " And now it is my turn to fill up a few blanks that occur 
 in the course of your narrative, Champignon," said De Rosann. 
 "Do you know, that the key which liberated you, did the same 
 kind office for us, and must have been dropped by accident; 
 that the questions of Jeannette, relative to the Chinese and Ma- 
 dagascar, were occasioned by some extravagant tales of Belle- 
 Rose ; that the rustling you heard in the wood was caused by 
 me, and the laughter emanated from both of us ; and that you 
 were allowed to sleep in the pig-stye, because we occupied the 
 only bed-room the worthy peasant had to spare?" 
 
 " Impossible ! " cried Champignon, his countenance expressive 
 ot unfeigned astonishment. "This is evidently the work of des- 
 tiny ! " 
 
 " It is very easily accounted for," answered De Rosann. "You 
 escape from the galleys half-an-hour or an hour after we have se- 
 
110 ALFRED; OR ADVENTURES 
 
 cured ourselves by flight — you take the same road that was adopted 
 by us — and you stop at the same cottages, because they are more 
 or less in your way." 
 
 " Your solution is very just," remarked Champignon ; " and by 
 the same reasoning, if there were no people to dine abroad, there 
 would be no restaurants ; if there were no restaurants, the 
 Cadran Rouge would not have existed ; and if the Cadran Rouge 
 had not existed, I should not have been sent to the galleys." 
 
 " All that is perfectly true, Messieurs" exclaimed Belle-Rose ; 
 " but the sun is high in the heavens, the morning dews have been 
 dissipated, and the hour for breakfast is arrived." 
 
 " That said cold turkey and ham," began Champignon, "would 
 not be bad, if — " 
 
 " One of the ladies is already in the yard," interrupted Belle- 
 Rose, gazing from a low window towards the ruins of Louis 
 Dorval's ancestral dwelling. 
 
 " Ah ! there is Eloise," cried De Rosann; and, to the astonish- 
 ment of his two companions, he rushed past them, and ran abruptly 
 out of the stable. 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 MR. CLAYTON. 
 
 Eloise was somewhat pale after the alarms of the night, and her 
 heart was filled with mingled joy and sorrow. She was happy on 
 account of the departure of her lover from the bagne at Brest, the 
 particulars of which liberation she was as yet unacquainted with ; 
 and she was vexed at the stern resolves of her mother, relative to 
 their engagement and future union. She knew that Mrs. Clayton 
 was determined to persist in her refusals to recognise Alfred as the 
 lover of her daughter ; and she was afraid that not only her en- 
 treaties, but also those of her uncle, would be unavailing and inef- 
 fectual. Mrs. Clayton fancied she was doing her duty towards a 
 child, whose tender years required parental care; she was not 
 ignorant of the malignity of the world, and of the scandal that 
 would be created, if she allowed her acquaintances and friends an 
 opportunity of saying, " That lady suffered her daughter to marry 
 a man who had been at the galleys for forgery ! " A sentence to 
 this effect, muttered in the ear of a stranger, so far from being fol- 
 lowed with a question soliciting information, such as " But there 
 must have been extenuating circumstances : perhaps the young 
 gentleman was innocent after all, while appearances were against 
 him : can you not let me know the particulars of the case ? " — 
 would only meet with a shrug of the shoulders, and a reply to the 
 effect of " What a shameful breach of moral rectitude ! " or " I 
 wonder how any mother could be so inhuman, and so indifferent to 
 the interests of her child ! " Such is the present degraded state of 
 society ; and the more its members practise a conduct like the 
 above, the more they are said to be civilized and refined ! 
 
 But as society is so organised, and as its laws are so severe, those 
 
OF A FRENCH GENTLEMAN. Ill 
 
 who are desirous of preserving the good opinion of the world must 
 not fly in the face of received opinions or notions, nor violate that 
 which is conventionally supposed to be decency or delicacy ; but 
 must endeavour to reconcile their conduct with even bad statutes, 
 and commit occasional acts of flagrant injustice, to be thought up- 
 right and conscientious. Mrs. Clayton was aware of these lament- 
 able facts — these heart-rending truisms ; and many a bitter pang 
 did it cost her to harden her naturally affectionate and tender 
 heart to the tears of Eloise, the remonstrances of her brother-in- 
 law, and the anticipated entreaties of De Rosann ; for she was 
 certain the ardent young lover would not abandon his suit till he 
 saw that every chance was more than desperate, and till he was 
 convinced that Eloise could never become his wife. Still Mrs. 
 Clayton was firmly wedded to her former opinion of Alfred's inno- 
 cence ; and she felt her bosom lacerated as if by the stabs of a thou- 
 sand daggers, when mature reflection pointed out the necessity of 
 receiving him with coolness, and of separating from his company 
 as speedily as possible. 
 
 From the moment that she lay down on a mattrass in the miser- 
 able barn, whither De Rosann and her brother-in-law had borne 
 her, till the hand of her watch pointed to the hour of eight, she 
 never closed her eyes. The presence of De Rosann was an unto- 
 ward event her worst fears had not anticipated. It threatened to 
 encompass her with difficulties and drive her to harsh measures, 
 which a naturally generous nature shuddered to adopt. De Rosann 
 was now poor — nay, more — he was a beggar, without a farthing in 
 the world ; and so obstinate a resistance (thought Mrs. Clayton) to 
 his marriage with her daughter, might be badly appreciated, and 
 traced to pecuniary motives. She had also hoped that the igno- 
 minious fate and absence of Alfred might damp the attachment 
 Eloise experienced in his favour ; and as Mrs. Clayton herself had 
 encountered no opposition nor barrier to her union with Henry, 
 she was not aware of the obstinate tenacity and permanence of true 
 love, when its path is traced amongst thorns. 
 
 For a variety of reasons, therefore, the sudden appearance of 
 De Rosann overwhelmed her with grief. She dared not consult 
 Mr. Clayton relative to the best plans to be adopted in so distress- 
 ing an emergency ; because, instead of endeavouring to extricate 
 her from her perplexities, he would, insist on the necessity of for- 
 getting De Rosann's disgrace, of openly recognising his innocence, 
 and of receiving him as her future son-in-law. Were she to adopt 
 this line of conduct, the whole family would be obliged to return 
 to England, to avoid the remarks of their acquaintances and friends 
 in Paris, whence, as it was, Mrs. Clayton had deemed it necessary 
 to withdraw, and hasten to the sea side for a time. 
 
 In this dilemma Mrs. Clayton determined to act according to the 
 suggestions of her own judgment, and to persist in her resolutions 
 not to allow the match, however harsh those resolutions might 
 appear, and however pathetic might be the entreaties of her 
 daughter, her brother-in-law, and the young man himself, to the 
 contrary. 
 
112 ALFRED; OR ADVENTURES 
 
 Mr. Clayton, in the meantime, had listened only to the dictates 
 of a good and kind disposition, and was pre-determined to act in 
 favour of De Rosann. He saw that the future happiness of Eloise 
 depended upon the manner in which her engagement with Alfred 
 was considered, and he loved his fair niece too tenderly and too sin- 
 cerely, to think of crushing her hopes and her felicity for ever. He 
 knew that change of air and variety of scenery could not eradicate 
 the cankering worm of despair from her young heart ; he appre- 
 ciated the excellence of her character and the rectitude of her 
 natural sentiments— not the false ideas which are imbibed by an 
 acquaintance with the world in general — too well, to suppose that 
 she would easily forget one to whom she had pledged an unchange- 
 able affection in his presence. He therefore resolved to seek an 
 opportunity of conversing with De Rosann, and of unfolding to 
 him the real state of' Mrs. Clayton's mind on the all-important 
 subject : for that lady's repugnance to his suit, after the verdict 
 was made known, had not been revealed to De Rosann in his dun- 
 geon at Bicetre, both Eloise and her uncle thinking it prudent to 
 suppress that which would only have added to his misery. But it 
 was not the worthy Mr. Clayton's intention to afflict his unfortunate 
 young friend, without giving him some hope and some consolation. 
 He resolved to put him in possession of certain severe truths, and 
 to assure him at the same time that, great as the difficulties were, 
 they must not be deemed insurmountable. " Faint heart never won 
 fair ladye" thought the excellent uncle ; "and, as my niece will 
 eventually inherit all my wealth, what does it matter to me if I 
 settle the half on her at once, sooner than suffer pecuniary affairs 
 to interfere with her happiness ? " 
 
 With regard to Eloise herself, we have before said that her feel- 
 ings were at present a compound of mingled joy and sorrow— hope 
 and despair. She could not help acknowledging to herself that, in 
 a worldly point of view, her mother was acting as most parents would 
 do upon similar occasions ; but she wished the matter to be con- 
 sidered in a moral light, with due regard to the laws of justice and 
 humanity. She had plighted her troth to De Rosann— she had 
 fixed her affections upon him — her chaste imagination was ever 
 filled with his image—her pure mind dwelt perpetually on every 
 word he had uttered in her ears, expressive of his attachment ; and 
 now, to resign the object of her solicitude — the subject of her con- 
 stant thoughts— impossible ! Without him, to whom she had 
 bound herself by words as well as feelings, life's prospective dream 
 was a dreary waste— a sandy desart, without a single oasis— a 
 dark heavenj unvaried by the lustre of a solitary star. To forget — 
 to become indifferent to Alfred, was as probable as the junction of 
 the poles or the annihilation of matter. Eloise felt that she would 
 sooner disobey even her fond mother, than retract the syllables of 
 unchangeable fidelity which she had breathed to De Rosann in his 
 prison, and in the presence of her uncle. Because the world would 
 henceforth look with coolness and contempt on an individual, whose 
 misfortunes, and not his crimes, had mixed him up with malefac- 
 tors, and obliged him to become the inmate of a vile gaol ; because 
 

 1 
 
 ,'/,j>.,/.; ,:.//«»<'/»■» '•■ ^f -^'' /; " 
 
 
OF A FRENCH GENTLEMAN j | ;} 
 
 friends and relatives forsook him in his adversity ; and because he 
 was a penniless stranger on the face of the earth, Eloise felt that 
 it was not only now the time to take him by the hand, but that it 
 was her bounden duty so to do. 
 
 Such were the various reflections of the mother, the daughter, and 
 the uncle, during the hours that intervened between the commence- 
 ment of the fire and the moment at which Mrs. Clayton consulted 
 her watch, as stated above. The unfortunate wife of Louis Dorval 
 was in a very precarious situation, and medical advice was recom- 
 mended by Mr. Clayton, who at the same time took the opportunity 
 of questioning Dorval, apart, relative to his loss, which the farmer 
 did not estimate at more than fifteen thousand francs,* because the 
 house was old, and required constant repairs. 
 
 " Very well, my good fellow," said Mr. Clayton, taking out his 
 pocket-book, and writing and talking at the same time. " You 
 may perhaps indirectly attribute the origin of the fire to the two 
 travellers who arrived last night, since it was while you were 
 engaged in transporting mattresses for them from the loft to the 
 first floor, that a spark of your candle must have caught the 
 straw." 
 
 " Indeed I am very far from making so unjust an accusation 
 against two innocent people," cried the farmer ; " particularly — " 
 
 " Fifteen thousand francs, you said, eh ?" interrupted Mr. Clay- 
 ton : " that is the estimate of your loss ? " 
 
 " At a rough calculation," returned the farmer. 
 
 " Well, then," continued Mr. Clayton, putting a scrap of paper 
 into Dorval's hands, " accept that order upon a mercantile house at 
 St. Malo, and consider yourself indemnified. One of the two gen- 
 tlemen who arrived last night is an intimate friend— a relation — 
 a connexion of mine ; and, as he may not have immediate re- 
 sources tangible at any banker's in the neighbouring town, I 
 merely anticipate his intentions by offering you wherewith to 
 build another dwelling. " 
 
 The farmer received the order in stupified astonishment, and en- 
 deavoured to stammer out a few syllables, expressive of his grati- 
 tude ; but the generous donor of so munificent a gift appeared 
 ashamed of his very liberality ; and having desired Dorval not to 
 mention the circumstance to a soul until his various guests had de- 
 parted, Mr. Clayton turned aside to address his niece, who at that 
 moment issued from the barn. 
 
 •' You are pale, Eloise ; but I need scarcely inquire the reason. 
 It has been a terrible and a joyful night for you. The horrors of 
 the fire and the appearance of De Rosann were enough to drive 
 sleep from your eyes." 
 
 "Alas! my dear uncle— let me hope that this poor heart of 
 mine may never resemble those desolate ruins ! " 
 
 " What an idea, Eloise ! " exclaimed Mr. Clayton, looking to- 
 wards the dreary pile, and then glancing at the pallid features of 
 ;ns niece. •' Is all hope banished from thy young bosom, at a 
 
 * Six hundred pounds sterling. 
 15 
 
114 ALFRED. OR ADVRNTURKS 
 
 period of life when the dreams of the future are usually replete with 
 bright images ? '' 
 
 " I know not what to think, uncle," was the reply, delivered in 
 so melancholy a tone, that it penetrated to the soul of the excel- 
 lent man who heard it. " My mother's conduct appears cruel ; 
 but it is not for me to question the rectitude of her actions. 
 All I can say is, that the laws of society are severe where they 
 should be lenient, and ridiculously merciful in cases which demand 
 austerity." 
 
 " My dear Eloise, your mother's conduct is cruel ; and I have 
 told her so a hundred times since the day of Alfred's condemna- 
 tion. I am better able to judge in these matters than she ; and 
 yet my advice is disregarded. 'Tis true, I have not so great a 
 right to control your conduct as a parent has ; but hitherto I have 
 endeavoured to replace towards you the father you have lost ; and 
 your mother has often returned thanks to God that I was spared, 
 to be a protector to herself and her child. With regard to all 
 trivial matters, she has never failed to solicit my counsel, and has 
 always followed it — because my opinion did not differ from her 
 own ; but, now that an important affair is to be considered, my 
 authority counts as nothing. By Jove ! it is rather too bad ! " 
 
 " Nay, my dear uncle, do not be impatient," cried Eloise, affec- 
 tionately taking Mr. Clayton's hand, and pressing it to her lips. 
 " If you were to quarrel with my mother and to leave us — " 
 
 " Leave you, dear girl — never !" exclaimed the excellent man, a 
 tear trickling down his cheek. " You are to inherit all my fortune 
 — for you I will never marry — you are as a daughter to me in my 
 declining years — and rest assured, Eloise, that you shall yet be 
 happy with him you love." 
 
 " Oh ! do you really think so ? or is this said to console me ?" en- 
 quired the beautiful girl, still squeezing her uncle's hand. 
 
 " On my honour I mean what I say. There are some difficultes 
 to be surmounted— but those obstacles are not insuperable — parti- 
 cularly when a daughter's tears, and a brother's intreaties are to be 
 used against a mother's stubborn resolutions. Have patience, 
 Eloise ; and w r e will triumph yet, my girl. At present let us as- 
 certain the manner in which De Rosann liberated himself, or was 
 set free, and the ideas he has formed relative to the future." 
 
 4 ' He is here to answer for himself," cried Alfred, who had at that 
 moment issued from the stable. Eloise uttered a cry of joy ; and 
 the two lovers were soon locked in a fervent embrace. 
 
 "Come — come, children," cried Mr. Clayton : " recollect that 
 we are in a court-yard whither the glances of the curious may pene- 
 trate. Be reasonable, and do not expose yourself to ridiculous 
 observations." 
 
 " Love is our apology," said Alfred with a smile, as he imprinted 
 another kiss on the brow of Eloise, and then grasped the out-stretched 
 hand of friendship which was tendered him by her uncle. 
 
 " We were talking of you as your voice met my ears," continued 
 Mr. Clayton ; " and you may naturally suppose that we are anxious 
 to hear the particulars of your exit from the — the — " 
 
OF A FRENCH GENTLEMAN. \\o 
 
 " From the galleys of Brest," exclaimed De Rosaim boldly, seeing 
 that Mr. Clayton scarcely dared mention the hated word. " An 
 honest man," added the youth, striking his breast forcibly with hie 
 hand, " need not blush to name the vile dens into which misfortune 
 has impelled him : and it is possible to preserve the spotless integrity 
 of an honourable name even when associated with the refuse of 
 mankind." 
 
 Had not Eloise and her uncle been already convinced of De 
 Rosann's innocence, the sincerity with which he uttered these words 
 would have proved it. There was something in his manner, in his 
 emphasis, and in his countenance, that seemed to say he was speak- 
 ing the language of truth, and that the syllables which flowed from 
 his lips, were as free from the guise .of hypocrisy as the lisping of 
 an infant is devoid of guile. 
 
 " You are a noble fellow, by Jove ! " cried Mr. Clayton ; "and you 
 merit a better fate. As far as my friendship is of any value to you, 
 De Rosann, you have it now— henceforth — and for ever!" 
 
 " And my love also," whispered Eloise. 
 
 " A thousand — thousand thanks ! " cried De Rosann : " may I 
 be constantly a worthy object of such sweet regard ! " 
 
 A pause of some minutes ensued, during which they gazed on 
 each other in silence : a tear trickled down the cheek of Eloise. 
 De Rosann saw it, and hastened to change the current of her thoughts 
 by varying the conversation ; he accordingly related all that had 
 happened to him and Belle-Rose since the day on which the chain 
 of convicts left the walls of Bicetre. He only suppressed the nar- 
 rative of Francois, and the circumstance of his having found the 
 papers in the haunted room of the house that was now a heap of 
 ruins, as being irrelevant to his own adventures, and calculated to 
 occupy too much time by the recital. 
 
 " You are still in danger of being re-captured," remarked Mr. 
 Clayton, at the termination of De Rosann's tale. 
 
 "Certainly: but as Leblond did not deceive me relative to the 
 passports, I am still in hopes of being reserved for some signal 
 service into whose mysteries no one can as yet penetrate." 
 
 " It is your intention, then, to proceed to Paris as soon as your 
 passport is signed at St. Malo ?" asked Mr. Clayton. 
 
 De Rosann hesitated — cast a look at Eloise — and then gave a 
 melancholy glance towards the uncle. 
 
 "Ah! ah! I understand," cried the latter: "all depends upon 
 certain circumstances, relative to which, by the bye, I must have a 
 little conversation with you, my young friend. Eloise, do you leave 
 us for a few minutes, and enquire of the farmer whether there be 
 anything for breakfast. Rest assured we shall not discuss politics 
 in your absence, but that affairs more intimately connected with 
 yourself are about to occupv our minds." 
 
 And Mr. Clayton smiled, as he drew De Rosann away from the 
 spot where they had been standing, while Eloise followed them with 
 her eyes for some moments ere she departed to execute her uncle's 
 commission relative to the morning's repast. The farmer was en- 
 gaged in removing his furniture from the open air to a shed at a 
 
ll(j . alfrrd; or adventures 
 
 little distance : but the moment lie saw the young lady approach, 
 he quitted his work, and ran to meet her, the unbounded munificence 
 of Mr. Clayton having entirely dispelled his sorrow, and made him 
 even bless the accident which had been so productive ; for the 
 worthy Louis Dorval had already calculated upon increasing his 
 stock of sheep and cattle with at least one third of the fifteen thou- 
 sand francs so liberally restored, and upon building a commodious 
 dwellino- with the remainder. His salutation was therefore obse- 
 quious, and his politeness remarkable in the extreme, when Eloise 
 addressed him relative to the breakfast. 
 
 " I thought about it half an hour ago, mademoiselle" returned the 
 peasant, cap in hand, " and had prepared a fire in the dairy, which 
 is a small building on the other side of the farm — you cannot see it 
 from the spot where I have the honour to speak to you — when a 
 strano-e looking man, accompanied by one of the gentlemen who 
 arrived late last night, rushed into the room, seized the pots and 
 saucepans, cut up the cold meat, and fell to peeling the potatoes, 
 tellino- me at the same time that he was the first cook in Europe, 
 and that he had once kept the Cadran Gris or Cadran Jaune, I 
 dont exactly recollect which, at Paris. It was in vain that I of- 
 fered to dress the breakfast : he assured me I was as ignorant as 
 an owl relative to all culinary matters, and insisted upon preparing 
 the meal himself. The gentleman who was with him, desired me 
 to humour the stranger's whims, and to fetch him a night-cap. J 
 accordingly obeyed ; and there he is at this moment surrounded 
 with pots, kettle's, and food, ami cooking enough provisions to serve 
 a whole regiment of Swiss guards, in as many different ways as there 
 are letters in the alphabet." 
 
 No sooner had Louis Dorval uttered these words than Champig- 
 non made his appearance, with a cotton night-cap upon his head, 
 an apron round his waist, a copper saucepan in one hand and a soup 
 ladle in the other. The moment he caught sight of Eloise, he made 
 a most polite bow, and muttered some compliment between his teeth. 
 He then turned to the farmer and desired him to procure a multi- 
 tude of articles which he stated to be absolutely necessary for his 
 dishes; viz. ouions, thyme, parsley, sorrel, tarragon, &c. &c. Dor- 
 val hastened to obey the gastronomer's directions; Champignon 
 himself returned to his kitchen ; and Eloise hastened to seek her 
 mother in the barn, while De Rosann and Mr. Clayton stood con- 
 versing at a short distance. 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 THE BREAKFAST. 
 
 " My dear friend,'' said Mr. Clayton to De Rosann, when they 
 had retired from the spot where Eloise still lingered a few minutes, 
 to follow them with her eyes— for the affectionate girl was never 
 tired of o-azin ? upon her lover : " My dear friend, you must nerve 
 
OF A FRENCH GENTLKM A.NT. 117 
 
 yourself to hear more sad news, of which it is my duty to make 
 you aware." 
 
 " Speak ! — O speak 1" cried De Rosann, a convulsive shudder 
 passing through his frame. 
 
 " Not to keep you in suspense any longer," returned Mr. Clay- 
 ton, " my sister-in-law is averse to — " 
 
 " My love for her daughter Eloise," added De Rosann. " I 
 fancied as much this morning — last night — whatever might be the 
 hour — when I aided you to carry her in the chair to yonder barn. 
 O I guessed her secret thoughts from the chilling manner in 
 which she received me. But I did not suffer her unkindness to 
 vex me ; for she dare not oppose the wishes of her daughter in a 
 matter of such vital importance to that daughter's felicity." 
 
 " Alas ! you do not know Mrs. Clayton, De Rosann : she fan- 
 cies slie is acting right, because she acts conscientiously ; and 
 when a mother has those ideas, it is difficult to eradicate them from 
 her mind." 
 
 " But your influence, Mr. Clayton — your advice — Eloise's tears 
 — a beloved child's, an only child's prayers, Mr. Clayton — joined 
 to my supplication on bended knees — in that humiliating posture, 
 my dear sir — " 
 
 " Calm yourself, Alfred ; you speak at random : let us converse 
 quietly and rationally — as men, and not as stage-actors. Pardon 
 this rebuke j I am familiar with you, De Rosann, because I love 
 you as a relative — as a son ; and you may rely upon my aid in all 
 your embarrassments. Why I would you believe it, that when we 
 debated as to which sea-port town we should go to, in order to pass 
 the summer, I suggested St. Malo, to be as near, as possible to 
 you ; and thus, on our journey thither, has the fortunate breaking 
 of our carriage enabled us to meet." 
 
 " So deep a debt of gratitude shall I never be able to repay ; 
 but, as long as you are my friend, I do not despair of possessing 
 Eloise," exclaimed De Rosann. 
 
 " You must not think of moving her mother," said Mr. Clayton, 
 •< by tears and prayers." My sister-in-law thinks she acts from 
 motives purely conscientious, and bearing reference to nothing save 
 her daughter's welfare ; whereas I fancy that a little sentiment of 
 pride has a certain influence on her actions. She has an idea that 
 her father was some great personage — you know she is of French 
 extraction ? " 
 
 " Yes ; Eloise has occasionally spoken of her grandfather," re- 
 turned De Rosann. 
 
 "But Eloise has never related to you any particulars relative 
 to his extraordinary disappearance, et cetera?" enquired Mr. 
 Clayton. 
 
 " Never," answered Alfred. " You know we were seldom 
 alone for five minutes together, during the whole period when I 
 was accustomed to visit at your house ; and Eloise rarely alluded 
 to her deceased relatives in the presence of her mother." 
 
 " Well, the history is somewhat long, and I will tell it to you 
 on another occasion," said Mr. Clayton ; " but I was remarking, 
 
US ALFRED ; OR ADVENTURES 
 
 that perhaps a little pride may have something to do with my 
 sister-in-law's present repugnance to the union of yourself and her 
 daughter. She has imbibed the idea that her father was a French 
 nobleman of rank and fortune, and has persuaded herself that she 
 must honour his name and his family — although she be unacquainted 
 with both — to the utmost of her ability. All women have some 
 weakness of the kind, De Rosann ; and we must look with a cha- 
 ritable eye on the failings of our fellow-creatures. Let us there- 
 fore devise some plan by which we can surmount the obstacles 
 which diametrically oppose your wishes." 
 
 " You forget, my dear Sir, that I am an outlawed being — an 
 individual whom the first Gendarme may arrest as a criminal — a 
 felon escaped from the galleys. No profession- -no trade can re- 
 ceive me : my sole hope is in the secret service to which I am 
 more or less attached ; and if I could obtain a deeper insight into 
 rhe mysterious sources of power and intrigue which have ere now 
 assisted me, I might be enabled to procure a full pardon ; for the 
 hand that commanded the stamp and the endorsement of the 
 authorities at the Prefecture de Police, can doubtless obtain the 
 royal signature to an act of mercy or justice." 
 
 " Your observations are those of a wise man, Alfred, said Mr. 
 Clayton ; " and if you would follow my advice — " 
 
 " The counsel of so distinguished a friend is a command to me," 
 interrupted De Rosann, looking up to his companion with a species 
 of filial attachment and respect 
 
 " Nay, my dear boy," returned Mr. Clayton, flattered by this 
 remark ; u I do not mean to usurp a. power which I have no right 
 to assume. But if you relish my advice, follow it; and on the 
 present occasion, I should think that you would do well: — nay, 
 more, I should even strongly recommend you to hasten to Paris, 
 and seek an interview with Leblond. He is, perhaps, merely an 
 agent ; but he evidently knows more than you relative to the ser- 
 vice he is embarked in ; and by the help of a bribe — for I dare say 
 he is like the generality of the world, poor or avaricious— you 
 may obtain some valuable information at his hands. And this 
 idea puts me in mind of another, De Rosann — a delicate subject, 
 it is true." 
 
 " Speak," said Alfred ; " you need not be under any restraint 
 with me, particularly since I possess your friendship." 
 
 " I am glad you have uttered these words," cried Mr. Clayton 
 joyfully ; " they have relieved me of half the awkwardness of my 
 task. But to the point. De Rosann, I know the present state of 
 your circumstances — do not interrupt me ; and am delighted that 
 capricious fortune has put it in my power to aid you — that is, to 
 do the same towards you as you would have done towards me had 
 I stood in your position, and you in mine. This pocket-book," he 
 continued, taking one from the breast of his coat, " contains 
 bills upon a merchant's house, at St. Malo, for twenty thousand 
 francs ; they are payable to the bearer, and therefore do not 
 require my endorsement. You will give me your note of hand on 
 an'" her occasion." 
 
fWSP&g 
 
 - i 
 
 "/v,/;^ 7 
 
OF A FRENCH GENTLFMAN. 11 [) 
 
 De Rosann received the pocket-book with thanks. The centle- 
 manly and kind manner in which it was tendered did not admit 
 of another objection on the part of even the most fatidious. 
 
 " It is, therefore, well understood," said Mr. Clayton, continuing 
 the conversation for the express purpose of appearing to dismiss 
 from his memory the pecuniary transaction which had just taken 
 place, " that you do not speak to my sister-in-law at present, rela- 
 tive to your engagement with Eloise — that you immediately pro- 
 ceed to Paris, and endeavour to make a friend, or rather a tool of 
 Leblond — that you write to me as often as you choose, feeling cer- 
 tain of receiving exact replies ; and that the ladies and myself 
 will remain at St. Malo for the present, until I see how maUers 
 turn out, and what afflictions or blessings Fortune may have in 
 store for us." 
 
 " I shall correspond with you as often as I know the slightest 
 incident worth relating," answered De Rosann : then, after a 
 moment's hesitation, he added, "and if I were occasionally to 
 enclose a line to Eloise, my dear Mr. Clayton ?" 
 
 " It would be punctually delivered," was the prompt reply. 
 
 " To prove that your noble confidence does 'not stand even the 
 remotest chance of being abused, I shall invariably leave the notes 
 intended for Eloise unsealed." 
 
 " In which case I shall as invariably send them back to you," 
 returned Mr. Clayton. " Now, attend to me, Alfred. I am not a 
 mere go-between — a cat's paw in this affair ; but I act from prin- 
 ciple, and with the firmest conviction of your honourable intentions. 
 I love my niece too much to sacrifice her happiness for want of 
 a little complaisance on my part ; and I should not be ashamed if 
 all the world -were made* aware of my conduct. So seal your 
 letters, De Rosann : a man who could act basely towards the purest 
 of God's creatures would be a wretch only fit to be trampled under 
 foot." j 
 
 De Rosann was about to reply in suitable terms to this last proof 
 of Mr. Clayton's excellent heart and noble disposition, when a loud 
 cry of "Stop him! stop him !" met his ears; and in a moment 
 Azor rushed past, with a large bone in his mouth. De Rosann 
 suspected somewhat of the real truth ; and he was not exceedingly 
 astonished to see Champignon, the white night-cap on his head, 
 and the soup-ladle in his hand, pursuing the fugitive animal at a 
 pace that did not give much promise of overtaking him. Cham- 
 pignon's face was smeared with flour, save the tips of his nose and 
 chin, which exhibited a fearful rubicundity, the effects of stooping 
 near a large fire. The perspiration ran down his cheeks, forming 
 furrows in the white powder that yielded to the large drops which 
 fell from his forehead, where a thick paste began to appear. Still 
 he relaxed not in the ardour of his chase, but persisted in running 
 after the dog like a madman. Presently, a high pailing arrested 
 his course ; Azor had managed to creep between the bars, and was 
 already in the midst of the adjoining field, when Champignon was 
 seated on the top of the fence, hesitating whether he should descend 
 with a leap, as the ground was much lower on the other side. 
 
120 
 
 ALFRED ; OR ADVENTURES 
 
 While he was in this ridiculous posture, at one moment examining 
 the green sod beneath, at another casting a searching glance in the 
 direction which the dog had taken, and brandishing his soup-ladle 
 as if it were some martial weapon, the garde champetre* came up, 
 and catching him by the leg, inquired what he was doing ? 
 
 "Nothing," answered Champignon: "except looking after a 
 marrow-bone," he added slowly. 
 
 " The boundary between two people's property is a singular place 
 to look after a marrow-bone," returned the garde-champetrc . 
 
 " It is as I tell you," said the gastronomer; but no sooner had 
 he uttered these words than he lost his balance; fell backwards 
 into the enclosure which was attached to the property of Louis 
 Dorval, and knocked off the garde-champetre's cocked hat with his 
 foot as he rolled over. At the same moment, Azor, who had dis- 
 cussed the bone, and was returning home to his kennel, cantered 
 slowly towards the railing. Perceiving the cocked hat rolling on 
 the ground, before its owner could stoop to pick it up, the playful 
 animal seized it in his mouth, and scampered once more across the 
 fields, wagging his tail, and performing a thousand gambols to 
 exemplify his delight, while the discomfitted authority was obliged 
 to run after the mischievous dog, venting his wrath in curses 
 against Champignon, the hat, the pailings, and Azor. In the 
 meantime, the gastronomer raised himself from his fallen position, 
 muttered something about " a series of accidents always happening 
 to the best cook in Europe," and regained the dairy, or kitchen, 
 to complete the breakfast. 
 
 A sudden idea had struck De Rosann, that it would be indecent 
 and impolitic in him to suffer Belle-Rose and Champignon to sit 
 down at the morning's repast with Eloise and her mother. He 
 communicated his thoughts to Mr. Clayton, and proposed to break- 
 fast alone with those two individuals, to prevent any unpleasant 
 feeling or remark on the part of Mrs. Clayton. This plan was 
 greatly approved of, and therefore adopted, the brother-in-law 
 taking upon himself the difficult task of reconciling Eloise to the 
 absence of her lover. 
 
 No sooner was this arrangement completed than Champignon 
 made his appearance with a number of dishes, which he placed 
 upon a table, in the open air, opposite the barn. De Rosann and 
 Mr. Clayton then separated, agreeing to see each other once more 
 before they left the premises for St. Malo. The former bent 
 his steps towards the dairy, where Belle-Rose anxiously awaited 
 him ; and the latter sought his sister-in-law and niece to conduct 
 them to the repast, so exquisitely cooked, and gallantly spread 
 by the comical figure in the white night-cap. 
 
 " It appears you are acquainted with the gentleman and two 
 ladies who arrived in the carriage," said Belle-Rose, when 
 De Rosann entered the place which Champignon had converted 
 into a kitchen. 
 
 * A species of police-officer, or gendarme, entrusted with the maintenance of order 
 in the country. 
 
OF A FRENCH GENTLEMAN. 121 
 
 " Yes, slightly." replied Alfred. " But that will not make 
 me alter my plans, nor separate from you till we arrive in Paris. " 
 
 " Tant mieux" said Belle-Rose : '« I am not yet wearied of your 
 company, although I have sense enough to know, De Rosann, that 
 my society cannot always suit you ; and that if you ever rise in the 
 world, our friendship is at an end." 
 
 " You wrong me, Belle-Rose, I declare upon my honour," 
 returned De Rosann. •' It is true that your pursuits and mine are 
 somewhat at variance with each other; but I shall not easily forget 
 the obligations I am under to you. Had it not been for your aid 
 and advice, I should perhaps have starved, or been recaptured im- 
 mediately after my flight from Brest : indeed, I do know that 
 I should have had the courage to attempt an escape." 
 
 " Say as little about that as possible, De Rosann ; and let us 
 commence an attack on some of the messes which Champignon 
 has dished up. But perhaps you breakfast with your friends ? " 
 
 " We have eaten together hitherto, Belle- Rose ; wherefore 
 should we then take our meals apart now ? " returned Alfred. 
 
 '•Cursed marrows-bone!" cried Champignon, who entered at 
 the moment ; u it would have made so delicate an addition to the 
 repast ! " 
 
 ■' We are doing honour to your viands, my worthy Apicius," 
 exclaimed Belle- Rose, helping himself to a plentiful supply of 
 hashed turkey. 
 
 " I reserved the dish for you, master Mercury," retorted the 
 gastronomer, who had somewhere read or heard that the winged 
 messenger of Jupiter was the patron of thieves and vagabonds. 
 
 " You will, of course, partake of the dainties which you yourself 
 have arranged ? " said De Rosann ; but before the last syllable 
 had fairly left his lips, Champignon was already seated "at the 
 table, and playing a vigorous game with his fork. 
 
 After breakfast, De Rosann left his companions for a moment, 
 to pay his respects to Mrs. Clayton. The reception he experienced 
 was cold and chilling in the extreme : he, however, affected not to 
 perceive it, but with the natural ease of a polished Frenchman 
 informed himself of her health, made a few indifferent remarks 
 relative to the weather, et, cetera, and then arose to say adieu. The 
 lovers exchanged tender and expressive glances. Mrs. Clayton 
 condescended so far as " to wish Monsieur De Rosann well ;" and 
 her brother-in-law said boldly, "Do not forget to write from Paris, 
 my dear Alfred, and tell me how the world uses you; for God 
 knows that Destiny has lately reserved some sad vicissitudes to try 
 your patience." 
 
 " Be assured of my punctuality as a correspondent," replied 
 the youth, pressing with fervour the hand which was held out to 
 him. 
 
 " And rely upon my friendship for ever," exclaimed Mr. Clayton, 
 placing a peculiar emphasis upon his words. 
 
 " My stay at St. MaJo will be so short," observed De Rosann, 
 " that I shall not have the pleasure of seeing you again." 
 
 " What ! do you intend to leave immediately after you set foot 
 
 16 
 
122 ALFRED; OR ADVENTURES 
 
 into the town ? " cried the worthy uncle, as if the plans adopted by 
 De Rosann were not already known to him. 
 
 " I shall take my place in the diligence, or the malle-poste,* this 
 very evening," was the answer. " But T will not trespass any 
 longer upon your time, Madame" he added, turning to Mrs. 
 Clayton, and bowing profoundly, without venturing to offer his 
 hand. " I wish you a pleasant journey, ladies. Adieu, my 
 dear Sir." 
 
 And De Rosann retired, having cast a single glance at Eloise 
 to assure the trembling girl of his constant love. The purport of 
 that glance was not misunderstood : lovers have a language ten 
 thousand times more expressive than mere syllables which flow 
 from the lips, and which are cooled by the breath ere they vibrate 
 on the ear; but the language of the eyes is replete with fire! 
 
 When De Rosann rejoined Belle- Rose, Champignon was not for 
 the moment in the dairy. A consultation accordingly arose on the 
 expediency of taking the worthy gastronomer with them, or the 
 necessity of leaving him behind. 
 
 " I have obtained a small supply of money from my friend," 
 said De Rosann, without mentioning any name : "and can easily 
 o-ive the poor fellow the wherewith to sustain himself for a certain 
 time. Besides, he has a cousin or an uncle at St. Malo ; and his 
 culinary talents will always provide him with the means of sub- 
 sistence. If you concur in my opinion, I will speak to him myself, 
 and we shall continue to travel alone together, as before." 
 
 " Be it so," returned Belle-Rose, " and use dispatch ; for we 
 must soon think of resuming our march." 
 
 De Rosann accordingly sought Champignon in the vicinity of 
 the dairy ; and at lengthfound him holding forth to Louis Dorval — 
 whom he retained by the button-hole — on the excellencies of co-^ 
 telettes a la quadrille. The poor farmer understood but one-half 
 of the rhodomontade uttered by Champignon, and was unable 
 to conceal his delight when the appearance of De Rosann put an 
 end to the lecture ; for the gastronomer, oblivious in the heat of 
 argument that his hands were covered with flour, had imprinted 
 various white marks on the coat and waistcoat of his unwilling 
 pupil, who did not dare exhibit the slightest impatience or 
 ill-humour, being totally ignorant as to what degree of intimacy 
 the self-dubbed cook might claim with an individual that had 
 given proofs of an unbounded munificence towards himself. ^ 
 
 De Rosann drew Champignon aside ; explained to him, in a 
 few words, that he and Belle-Rose had certain reasons for being 
 desirous of travelling alone ; and placed a bill for five hundred 
 francs in his hand. The ei-resiaurateur opened his eyes with 
 the most stupid astonishment at this instance of generosity on 
 tbe part of one whom he had only known for a short time, and 
 endeavoured to mutter a sentence expressive of his gratitude ; but, 
 failing in the attempt, he pulled off his night-cap, made a respect- 
 
 * The mail. 
 
OF A FRENCH GENTLEMAN. 123 
 
 ful bow, and stood staring like an owl on his benefactor ; till at 
 length De Rosann was obliged to turn away, to avoid bursting out 
 into a violent fit of laughter. Champignon followed our hero to 
 the dairy, and wished both him and Belle-Rose a prosperous jour- 
 ney, with tears in his eyes, adding, " that the next time they met, 
 he hoped to have the pleasure of cooking them a dish of his newly- 
 invented cutlets." 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 THE MYSTERIOUS PAPERS. 
 
 Arrived at St. Malo, De Rosann and Belle-Rose bent their steps 
 towards an inn of second-rate repute — -it not being more usual in 
 France than it is in England for foot-passengers to seek the prin- 
 cipal hotels. The landlord was a civil and obliging man, and wil- 
 lingly charged himself with the task of obtaiuing the necessary sig- 
 natures to his guests' passports at the town-hall. De Rosann then 
 despatched a commissionnaire or porter to procure cash for his bills 
 on the merchant's house which Mr. Clayton had indicated ; while 
 Belle-Rose indulged in the refreshing luxury of a bath, where he 
 amused himself with a bowl of rich soup called consommee.* 
 
 The reader may readily suppose that Alfred was dying with 
 curiosity once more to examine the mysterious papers of which 
 he had lately become possessed in so miraculous a manner ; and 
 the longer he was deprived of a proper opportunity, the greater 
 became his impatience to investigate their contents — a proceed- 
 ing to which he had entirely reconciled his conscience, by means 
 of the following arguments. 
 
 " If," said lie to himself, " I preserve these documents un- 
 touched till I have an opportunity of advertising them in the 
 public journals, or of making inquiries in the metropolis and 
 principal towns of France, relative to the existence of an heir 
 to the name and estates of the late Marquis of Denneville, I 
 may keep them for years in my possession, and then eventually 
 have done no good. If I read them, they may probably furnish 
 me with some clue to discover whether there be a living scion 
 of the ancient family, or whether the race of Denneville be en- 
 tirely extinct. It is therefore my duty to take cognizance of 
 papers which the hand of Providence has apparently thrown in 
 my way ; and I will act according to their contents." 
 
 These just and proper reflections, decided our hero to peruse the 
 documents in question ; and when the porter returned, with notes 
 of the bank of France for a thousand francs each, in lieu of the ef- 
 fects that had been placed in his hands, De Rosann desired to be 
 shown to a bed-room, under pretence of taking an hour's repose ; and 
 having carefully locked the door, he seated himself at a table, on 
 
 * A common cnslorr in France. 
 
12 * ALFRED; OK ADYENTUBES 
 
 which he spread the mysterious papers. We have before stated 
 that they were letters, and that many had escaped the attacks of 
 vermin and the ravages of time. De Rosann sought for the one 
 that bore the oldest date, so as to readtthem in a proper order ; and 
 applied himself attentively to its examination. But scarcely had 
 his eyes run over the first ten words, when he uttered an exclamation 
 of astonishment, and struck his forehead forcibly with his hand, as 
 if in doubt whether he were awake or dreaming. He then appeared 
 to ruminate for a few minutes ere he continued the perusal of a 
 document which had thus created his wonder. At length he started 
 from his reverie, drew the letters near him once more, and hastened 
 to accomplish his task. 
 
 As his eyes ran over each successive line, his attention became more 
 deeply rivetted to the papers, and his interest more essentially ex- 
 cited. At one moment a partial gloom would pervade his features ; 
 at another a joyous ray illuminated his countenance. He seemed 
 the victim of mingled hope and fear, joy and sorrow, anticipation 
 and dread. Letter after letter was consecutively scanned and laid 
 aside — not a word had escaped his scrutiny ; and only one epistle 
 remained unread. His anxiety now appeared worked up to an ex- 
 traordinary pitch ; for some moments he almost hesitated whether 
 to conclude his task, or relinquish it for ever, so violently was his 
 bosom a prey to the wildest excesses of expectation and alarm. At 
 length he recalled his departed energy — nerved himself to bear the 
 result, whatever it might be — and cast his eyes in an instant of des- 
 perate courage on the only letter that was still to be perused. Sud- 
 denly his visage brightened — a triumphant smile played upon his 
 countenance — his glances were replete with delight — he involun- 
 tarily clapped his hands together— started from his chair, and cried 
 out " Thank God — thank "God ! the hand of heaven is indeed evi- 
 dent in this miraculous event!" 
 
 ' For many minutes he forgot his real situation — he did not recol- 
 lect where he was — he seemed involved in an ecstasy even greater 
 than that into which Jeannette's song had thrown him three days 
 before. His mind was occupied by new ideas — fresh hopes were 
 awakened in his breast — and he pictured to himself a smiling future 
 as he paced the room with uneven steps. His delirium of jov 
 resembled the effects of an extraordinary dose of opium on a som 
 nambulist. He rubbed his hands together, laughed incoherently, 
 and cast wild glances around him. His spirits appeared to be wound 
 up to such a degree as to threaten most dismal consequences in case 
 of a too sudden reaction. Fortunately, however, his eye caught 
 sight of the papers scattered upon the table, and he recovered his 
 natural equanimity in a moment. 
 
 Having carefully folded the precious documents, and placed them 
 about his person as before, he unlocked the door of the bed-chamber, 
 and rang the bell. The landlord himself appeared to answer the 
 summons. 
 
 " Have you succeeded in obtaining the fulfilment of the neces 
 sary formalities to our passports ?" enquired De Rosann. 
 
 " Most unquestionably," returned the landlord. 
 
OF A FRENCH GENTLEMAN. 125 
 
 " But I have changed my mind/' cried Alfred. " Circumstances 
 will oblige me to go to England as speedily as possible." 
 
 " Actually ! " exclaimed the landlord. 
 
 " Therefore have the goodness to inform me whether there be a 
 steam-boat from hence to Dover ; and if so, when it starts." 
 
 " Apparently, there is no steam-vessel between this port and 
 Dover ; and, consequently, you must proceed to Havre-de-grace, 
 where, invariably, there are ships of all descriptions, bound usually 
 for a place generally called Southampton." 
 
 " Have you such a thing as a post-chaise ?" asked De Rosann. 
 
 " Indubitably," was the reply. 
 
 " Which means Yes, I suppose," cried Alfred pettishly ; for he 
 was wearied of the extraordinary profusion of adverbs adopted 
 by the landlord, and the maladroit manner in which they were 
 placed amongst the other words that formed the sentences he 
 uttered. 
 
 " Unquestionably," answered the host, with the most imperturb- 
 able gravity. 
 
 " In that case I will trouble you to order the horses." 
 
 " Immediately?" asked the landlord. 
 
 " In about an hour," returned Alfred, now, for the first time, 
 recollecting that he had not yet communicated his intention to 
 Belle-Rose, whom he could scarcely leave in so abrupt a manner. 
 
 " Voluntarily ! But your companion, Monsieur, has prudently 
 ordered a luxuriantly sumptuous dinner to be served up inconti- 
 nently ; and if I might adventurously offer a piece of advice, I 
 should energetically counsel Monsieur not to expose himself incon- 
 siderately to the cold air without having prejDaratively fortified his 
 stomach." 
 
 " You are right, my worthy host," replied De Rosann, after a mo- 
 ment's consideration ; " I will depart after dinner." 
 
 " Excellently arranged, admirably thought of, and judiciously 
 contrived ! " ejaculated the landlord, as he left the apartment with 
 a low bow. 
 
 " There is a man who would fain pass himself off for a pedant," 
 thought De Rosann in his own mind, when he was once more 
 alone ; " and all he succeeds in doing is to make himself appear a 
 consummate ass. But let me now seek Belle-Rose, and commu- 
 nicate my intentions of proceeding to England, instead of accom- 
 panying him to Paris. Leblond — the police — the secret service — 
 and everything must give way to the important mission with which 
 chance or destiny has charged me." 
 
 Belle-Rose was reclining on a sofa, in a handsome parlour of the 
 inn, perusing one of Pigault Le Brim's novels, or rather dosing 
 over it, when our hero entered. 
 
 " My dear Belle-Rose," said Alfred, somewhat embarrassed, for 
 he was afraid his precipitate conduct might appear strange, or be 
 badly interpreted, particularly as it was impossible to reveal the 
 real causes of so sudden a change in his plans ; " my dear Belle- 
 Rose, I shall not be able to accompany you to Paris ; I have made 
 up my mind to go to England." 
 
126 ALFRED ; OR ADVENTURES 
 
 " And wherefore ? " asked Pierre, raising himself on one arm 
 from the sofa. 
 
 " I am afraid of being recaptured ; and I have such a horror 
 of the galleys," returned De Rosann, inwardly ashamed of so paltry 
 an evasion. 
 
 " Well, if you be determined, I shall not oppose your wishes," 
 said Belle-Rose. " But when do you intend to embark ? " 
 
 " I am going to Havre this very afternoon — " 
 
 *' I will accompany you thither, if you have no objection," 
 interrupted Belle-Rose, after a moment's thought ; " and when 
 I have seen you safely on board the packet, I shall step into the 
 diligence, and return to my favourite city, Paris." 
 
 " So far from entertaining the slightest repugnance, I shall be 
 delighted with your society as far as Havre," said Alfred, laying 
 a particular stress upon the four last words. 
 
 Belle-Rose did not appear to notice that peculiar emphasis, 
 nor did he endeavour to dissuade our hero from his purposes, but 
 endeavoured to change the conversation. As it wanted at least 
 two hours till dinner-time, they took advantage of the interval, and 
 -walked out into the town to purchase a few necessaries for their 
 journey. Belle-Rose himself volunteered to buy a couple of 
 trunks or portmanteaus, and entered a shop for that purpose, while 
 De Rosann remained in the street, reading a large bill which was 
 posted against a wall, and which gave him information relative to 
 the hours of arrival and departure of the steam-packets which 
 traversed the ocean between Havre and Southampton. 
 
 On their return to the hotel, the landlord informed our hero and 
 his companion, " That the cook had exquisitely attended to their 
 orders, that the market had bountifully supplied the larder, and 
 that they might confidently rely upon instantaneously being served 
 with an unexceptionably toothsome repast." 
 
 " The trunk-maker adjoining will presently send two small 
 portmanteaus to the inn," said Relle-Rose, addressing the host ; 
 u will you have the goodness to convey one to each of our 
 chambers." 
 
 " Infallibly," answered the landlord, opening the parlour-door 
 for his waiter, who appeared at the moment with the dinner. 
 
 A Frenchman is naturally of a gay and lively disposition. In- 
 stead of the sober, phlegmatic, and even temperament of the 
 Englishman, he has either an unbridled flow of spirits, or a deep 
 depression. But the former generally prevails ; and when he is 
 en train de /aire mille folies* there is not a happier being in the 
 world. His eyes sparkle with a peculiar vivacity ; his conversa- 
 tion, though light and superficial, is replete with natural wit, and 
 he feels himself independent of all the world. 
 
 Such was now the case with De Rosann. He felt certain of 
 being able to elude the vigilance of the Gendarmes, armed as he 
 was with a passport, in which the most scrupulous could not 
 
 * Literally, "In the humour to commit a thousand follies." The expression is 
 synonymous with " up to anything," or "ready for all kinds of fun." 
 
OP A FRENCH GENTLEMAN. 127 
 
 detect a single flaw. He was about to visit another land, of whose 
 glories, whose power, and whose resources he had heard so much, 
 and it was a pleasant task that impelled him thither. He had 
 seen Eloise — he had renewed with her, in the presence of Mr. 
 Clayton, all their former vows. He was possessed of that gentle- 
 man's friendship ; and he had good reason to hope that eventual 
 success would crown all his fondest wishes. Belle-Rose carelessly 
 questioned him as to the cause of his sudden gaiety, and was 
 apparently satisfied with a trivial excuse, which to the meanest 
 capacity would have seemed a prevarication ; but he affected not 
 to notice the blush that betrayed his friend's momentary embar- 
 rassment, and continued to sip his Volnay with a connoisseur's 
 relish. 
 
 When dinner was over, De Rosann retired to his chamber, to 
 arrange the various articles which he had purchased in the morning. 
 A small portmanteau of black leather stood upon a chair, ready to 
 receive the objects its owner might think it fit to be entrusted with, 
 amongst which were the mysterious documents that had apparently 
 worked so happy a change in his spirits. 
 
 Our hero's occupation was scarcely concluded, when Belle-Rose, 
 accompanied by the porter of the hotel, entered the room ; and 
 having inquired of De Rosann if his portmanteau were ready, on 
 receiving an answer in the affirmative, he desired the man to carry 
 it down stairs, and lash it to the post-chaise. His orders were 
 immediately obeyed, the bill was liberally settled, and the two 
 travellers stepped into the carriage, which rolled away from the 
 hotel as speedily as four horses could draw it, while the landlord 
 declared, "That perceptibly those gentlemen were indisputably 
 the most worthy guests he had accidentally seen during the last six 
 months ; and that he cordially hoped they would safely arrive at 
 the end of their journey as satisfactorily as they had apparently 
 undertaken it." 
 
 Nothing of any consequence ensued on the road from St. Malo 
 to Havre-de-grace. Belle-Rose himself saw the baggage care- 
 fully unpacked and conveyed to their respective apartments, and 
 settled with the postilion of the last stage. 
 
 To be brief, the hour of departure arrived. Belle-Rose had 
 taken his place in the malle-poste for the evening of the day on 
 which De Rosann was to bid a short farewell to France ; and he 
 accompanied our hero as far as the quay, where the steam-vessel 
 was lying. De Rosann had already insisted upon Belle-Rose ac- 
 cepting a quarter of the sum with which Mr. Clayton had supplied 
 nim ; and having repeatedly thanked the companion of his flight 
 for the services he had derived from his knowledge of the country 
 and friendly guidance, Alfred stepped into the packet-boat, and 
 Aas soon out of sight of the spires of Havre, the French coast, and 
 the land which contained all that was dear to him upon earth. 
 
 For some time De Rosann walked up and down the deck without 
 taking the slightest notice of a soul. The sea was tolerably calm — 
 a gentle breeze blew favourably from the south-eastern quarter, 
 and the gallant vessel ploughed the blue element " like a thing of 
 life," dashing away the white foam from her prow as if she 
 
128 ALFRED; OR ADVENTURES 
 
 triumphed over the watery waste, and could control the billows, 
 as she defied the influence of the tide. At length, De Rosann 
 became wearied of his own reflections, and looked around him to 
 seek a variety. On his right hand was a middle-aged Englishman 
 of genteel appearance, good-humoured countenance, and easy 
 manners. He, moreover, spoke French uncommonly well, and 
 addressed De Rosann in that language. 
 
 " You are upon your way to England, Monsieur, for the same 
 purpose, I presume, that originally led me to France— unless, in- 
 deed, you have been thither before." 
 
 " This is the first time," answered De Rosann; " but business, 
 as well as pleasure, have induced me to undertake this voyage." 
 
 " Of course, you will proceed to London," said the Englishman. 
 
 " My affairs lie in that city ; and even if they did not, curiosity 
 alone would be a sufficient inducement to make me visit the metro- 
 polis of your country," returned our hero. 
 
 " You flatter my national pride," cried the Englishman ; " and 
 I dare assert, that if you have formed any idea of the splendour, 
 the magnificence, and the extent of London, you will not be disap- 
 pointed." 
 
 " Have you a Palais Royal in London?" inquired De Rosann. 
 
 " We have not a Palais Royal, it is true," answered the English- 
 man ; " but our streets are large, and our shops are elegant — our 
 bazaars are a combination of all that is costly and rare — our squares 
 are numerous — our public edifices remarkable— our theatres exten- 
 sive and handsome — our parks are open to the public, and our 
 palaces well calculated for regal dwellings." 
 
 " I have heard," said De Rosann, " that it is only at the west- 
 end where the streets are large and commodious, and that their 
 width is carried to a ridiculous excess. I have, moreover, read a 
 description of your public buildings, and they do not appear so 
 numerous or remarkable as those in Paris." 
 
 " Wait till you see London," said the Englishman, somewhat 
 sulkily. 
 
 " Oh ! " cried De Rosann, smiling at the unworthy petulance of 
 the other, " I only speak at present from what I have heard or 
 read. London and Paris are doubtless the first cities in the world 
 — and London is the larger of the two ; but Paris abounds in more 
 delights, in greater pleasures. We have cafes, restaurants, public 
 baths, and news-rooms at every step. We have four times the 
 number of theatres that London can boast of; and with regard to 
 the luxuries of life, I think you will agree with me in yielding the 
 palm to the French kitchen." 
 
 " Yes," cried the Englishman, endeavouring to conceal his ill- 
 humour in an affected facetiousness, " the French are superior to 
 the English in their cooking and their dancing." 
 
 o O o 
 
 " And in their manners," added our hero, drily. 
 
 The Englishman muttered a " You be damned ! " between his 
 teeth, which did not, however, reach the ear of De Rosann, and 
 passed over to the other side of the vessel, consoling himself 
 with the idea of " Well, thank God, we beat them at Waterloo ! " 
 
Of A TEENCil GENTLEMAN. 129 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 DIAMOND CUT DIAMOND. 
 
 Iiow beautiful is the ocean when its wide bosom is agitated by a 
 gentle breeze, as the breast of a maiden heaves to the°tale of her 
 lover— when the sea-gull flaps its wing upon the crested billows as 
 it skims them— when a few distant sails vary the dark blue of the 
 horizon— and when the sky above is like a canopy of costly silk, whose 
 fringes touch the expanse of waters on every side ! How beautiful 
 is the ocean when the rays of a summer sun illume its surface-— 
 when the vessel dances gladly over the waves, dashing the white 
 foam from its sharp prow— and when the heart of the passenger is 
 so devoid of care as to enable him to enjoy the loveliness of the 
 
 scone ! O it is indeed a scene of magnificence— grandeur and 
 
 sublime terror!— a scene which creates such strange emotions of 
 "pleasing pain " that we gladly fly to it again. 
 
 After an easy passage, the steam-vessel touched at Southampton ; 
 arid De Rosann, preceded my a porter carrying his baggage, went 
 direct to a hotel. He had some difficulty to make himself under- 
 stood ; but the proprietors and domestics of the various inns in the 
 town were so accustomed o receive or attend upon French tra- 
 vellers, that they had generally imbibed a smattering of the lan- 
 guage, or anticipated the wants of their transmarine guests, which 
 answered the same purpose, even if it were not preferable on the 
 score of saving many useless demands and explanatory signs. 
 m Being shown to a bed-room, De Rosann prepared to change his 
 linen and perform his ablutions ere he thought of any thing else. 
 But no one can conceive his rage and despair, when on opening 
 the portmanteau he found that it was not his own. He stamped 
 his feet, and clenched his fists, as if he were about to lay violent 
 hands on himself; large drops of perspiration ran off his forehead 
 down his cheeks,— his countenance turned pale and red alternately 
 twenty times in a minute,— and his pulse beat quickly to a feverish 
 degree. Such is a Frenchman's anger; or rather, such are his 
 mingled wrath and sorrow— an extreme, like his felicity. De 
 Rosann cursed his unlucky stars— dragged forth article after 
 article from the fatal portmanteau, and only found more convinc- 
 ing proofs of the mistake, or intentional change, whichever it migli't 
 be. While he was endeavouring to compose his disordered pas- 
 sions, to debate within himself on the best measures to be pursued 
 in 90 terrible a dilemma, a morsel of paper, that had fallen from 
 the box amongst other things, met his eyes. He hastily seized it : 
 'twas a letter directed to himself: he tore it open, and read as 
 follows : — 
 
 17 
 
130 ALFRED; OR ADVENTURES 
 
 " Fin contrejin,* my dear De Rosann. Did you deem it possible 
 to deceive Pierre Belle-Rose, whose Janus head and Argus glances 
 may be matched in penetration against those of Vidocq himself? 
 Was it probable that your secret could have escaped me ? Oh ! 
 De Rosann, I always declared you were a fine gentleman, but a bad 
 rogue. 
 
 " The noise you made in opening the cupboards of the haunted 
 room at Louis Dorval's old house awoke me. But I did not move ; 
 I feigned sleep, and watched all your motions. The instant I saw 
 the papers in your hands, I recollected Francois' tale ; and I relied 
 upon your honour, as a friend, to entrust me with the secret; 
 seeing that when men travel together, every thing is in common 
 between them, — an 'apophthegm I once whispered to a gentleman 
 whom I eased of his watch in a crowd last summer on the Place 
 de la Bastille. 
 
 " But you did not utter one word ; and I kept my counsel till 
 the proper opportunity arrived. You read the documents at the 
 hotel in St. Malo ; and your subsequent gaiety, added to the sud- 
 den change in your determination relative to our journey to Paris, 
 et cetera, betrayed the result of the perusal, and the favourable 
 contents of the papers. 
 
 " Had you acted honourably, Alfred De Rosann, I should never 
 have thought of outwitting you ; but, if we ever meet again, recol- 
 lect that scarcely your own thoughts are concealed from an ex- 
 perienced personage like Pierre Belle-Rose. Towards a companion 
 I myself invariably observe a straight-forward conduct; and I 
 expect it in others, or else the hypocrite and the deceiver shall be 
 themselves deceived. 
 
 " I merely scribble this to save you an useless journey to Lon- 
 don, where — if you persist in going thither on a fool's errand — we 
 may haply meet. Adieu." 
 
 This letter, which was without signature or date, fell from De 
 Rosann's hands as his eye glanced over the last syllable ; and he 
 threw himself upon a chair, overcome by the fermentation of in- 
 ward passions, and the working of terrible emotions. He could 
 not have fancied Belle-Rose capable of so much duplicity ; but, 
 on reflection, he knew that, according to the loose ideas of self- 
 appropriation professed by all adventurers living on their wits, his 
 own conduct in concealing the papers must have appeared strange. 
 He could now account for the coldness, and ready acquiescence, 
 with which Belle-Rose heard his plan of leaving France and 
 undertaking a journey to London. He remembered that Belle- 
 Rose had himself insisted upon purchasing the two portmanteaus ; 
 and made no doubt but that he had procured a couple exactly 
 resembling each other. He called to mind his late companion's 
 attention to the packing and unpacking of the baggage, and a 
 thousand little circumstances hitherto unaccountable. But he 
 could not help feeling an internal satisfaction when he said to 
 
 * Cunning against cunning, — diamond cut diamond. 
 
OF A FRENCH GENTLEMAN. 131 
 
 himself, " Belle-Rose thinks he possesses documents that will im- 
 mediately deliver a considerable sum of money into his hands : 
 and he is mistaken. The biter is still bit. He may discover where 
 it is, but he cannot touch one centime of the treasure." 
 
 And De Rosann rubbed his hands with delight as this idea 
 flitted across his mind. But his joy was as evanescent as the 
 noise occasioned by the whizzing arrow shot past us ; for he again 
 recollected, that perhaps those documents, through his carelessness, 
 might be now for ever lost to the rightful heir, whom their contents 
 would so essentially serve. Stung by this reflection, and aware of 
 the urgent necessity there existed of communicating as speedily as 
 possible with certain parties in London before Belle-Rose could 
 have time to deceive them, he ordered a post-ehaise, flung himself 
 into it, and soon had reason to acknowledge that the rate of 
 travelling in England was considerably superior to that of his own 
 country. 
 
 Arrived in London, his first care was to inquire for the firm of 
 Messieurs Robson and Co. ; he fortunately recollected the name, 
 but the address had escaped his memory. The banking-house was 
 however well known ; and he hastened to Threadneedle-street as 
 fast as a hackney-coach and a drunken driver could conduct him. 
 The vehicle stopped opposite an extensive building, and De Rosann 
 made his way, after considerable difficulty, to the private office of 
 the head partner. To his astonishment he found himself in the 
 presence of the very Englishman whom he had offended on board 
 the steam-vessel. 
 
 Mr. Robson — for he it was in propria persona — received our 
 hero with a cordial smile and an excess of politeness. He was 
 probably ashamed of himself for his ungentlemanly petulance on a 
 late occasion. Be that as it may, Mr. Robson was quite another 
 person when enacting the part of the rich banker, than he was when 
 travelling incognito on business. 
 
 u Ah ! Monsieur," he exclaimed, as De Rosann made a low bow, 
 and stood for a moment uncertain how to commence his business ; 
 " you have lost no more time on the road than myself; and to tell 
 you the truth, I am not at all sorry your affairs have brought you 
 to this house ; my conscience assures me that I owe you an apology 
 for a little abruptness which I unworthily manifested — " 
 
 " Not at all," replied De Rosann, with the easiness of manner 
 which was natural to him, and which most essentially increased Mr. 
 Robson's good humour : " I was sadly afraid of encountering in 
 this office a gentleman unable to converse with me in my own 
 tongue ; and I assure you that I am most agreeably disappointed, 
 by meeting one who speaks French so fluently." 
 
 This compliment entirely won Mr. Robson's heart in favour of 
 our hero ; and he offered De Rosann a pinch of snuff, with a 
 gesture that bespoke a certain familiarity or intimacy which did 
 not really yet exist between them. Alfred touched the box, and 
 bowed politely. 
 
 " Mr. Robson," said he, " I know that your time is precious, 
 and that I must not intrude too long apon your leisure. Will you 
 
 K2 
 
132 ALFRED; OH ADVENTURES 
 
 permit me," continued De Rosann, with a species of confidence 
 which the open manners of the Englishman encouraged, or rather 
 created, " to ask you a few questions concerning an affair of the 
 utmost importance ?" 
 
 " Certainly, Monsieur, — I have not the pleasure of being ac- 
 quainted with your name," cried the banker. 
 " De Rosann," replied our hero. 
 
 " De Rosann — De Rosann," muttered Mr. Robson : " that 
 name is familiar to me. Ah ! T recollect ! Is it impertinent to 
 inquire if you be any relation to the De Rosann of the Rue Cau- 
 martin, in the Chaussee d'Antin at Paris. I corresponded with 
 the old man for some years ; but shortly after his son succeeded to 
 him in the business, my foreign transactions became so extensive 
 that I was obliged to transfer the agency to a regular banker in 
 the French metropolis." 
 
 " I am that same De Rosann who succeeded to your ancient 
 correspondent," said our hero, convinced by the other's manner 
 that he was a stranger to the failure of the firm of De Rosann and 
 La Motte, as well as to the collateral circumstances attending it. 
 
 " Ah ! then we are old acquaintances, in a certain way," cried 
 Mr. Robson, with a complacent smile. "lam glad to see the 
 son of an individual whose regularity in business was unparalleled," 
 continued the talkative banker; " and should you have no better 
 engagement for to-morrow, I shall be delighted if you will honour 
 me with your company to dinner at six o'clock precisely." 
 
 De Rosann accepted the invitation, and the banker proceeded 
 to say, " that as they had now indulged themselves in five minutes' 
 conversation on indifferent affairs, he was ready to devote the same 
 period to business." 
 
 " It must be upwards of thirty-three or thirty-four years ago," 
 began De Rosann, resolved to enter briefly upon the subject, 
 "that the Marquis de Denneville was' in correspondence with your 
 house." 
 
 De Rosann had no sooner uttered these words than Mr. Robson 
 gave a sudden start, drew his chair closer to our hero, and pre- 
 pared to listen with the greatest attention. 
 
 - " And this same Marquis de Denneville/' continued Alfred, 
 " transferred, through his agent in Paris, a considerable sum of 
 money to your charge." 
 
 " Perfectly correct," cried Mr. Robson ; " I recollect that I 
 iiad just been received into partnership by my father when the 
 remittance was made to our hands." 
 
 " And the amount was eight hundred thousand francs— or — " 
 " Nearly thirty-two thousand pounds sterling," added the banker, 
 without a moment's hesitation. 
 
 " Which have never been claimed," said De Rosann. 
 " That is to say, never directly claimed," cried Mr. Robson. 
 " Nor ever inquired after," rejoined our hero. 
 " Pardon me, Monsieur. By a singular coincidence, an indi- 
 vidual has this morning been to the bank, and left word with one 
 of my clerks, that he should call upon me in the course of the day 
 
OF A FRENCH GENTLEMAN. 133 
 
 to speak about the very affair that has apparently brought you 
 hither." 
 
 "Thank God!" cried De Rosann, "there is no harm as vet 
 done!" 
 
 " How — no harm?" exclaimed the banker. 
 
 " I will explain myself in two words," replied Alfred. " The 
 individual who called upon you this morning has treacherously 
 possessed himself of certain documents which point out the real 
 heir to the Marquis de Denneville's fortune : and he has doubtless 
 come over to England with the idea of claiming the money in your 
 hands." 
 
 " And it was from you that the papers were stolen?" 
 
 " It was so," returned De Rosann. 
 
 " I comprehend," said Mr. Robson; and, after a moment's re- 
 flection, he added, " but of course I cannot surrender the money to 
 any one save the real heir, who must substantiate his right beyond 
 all doubt." 
 
 " That is every thing I require," answered De Rosann ; " and 
 with regard to the papers — " 
 
 " If you can prove that they were surreptitiously obtained, I 
 think I might undertake to restore them to the proper owner, or to 
 yourself," said Mr. Robson, "supposing the individual in question 
 entrusts them to me, and when you produce your power of attorney, 
 or authority to act for the parties to whom they belong." 
 
 " And should Bell- — that is, the individual who retains those 
 documents, hand them over to you in confidence ?" 
 
 " We must take a lawyer's opinion, and go before a magistrate," 
 returned Mr. Robson. 
 
 " I am afraid," objected De Rosann, " that the laws of England 
 cannot take cognizance of a robbery committed in France." 
 
 " In this case, I am inclined to think, our tribunals are competent, 
 as you say in your own country," cried Mr. Robson with a smile ; 
 " but, at all events, I am one of the principal actors in the whole 
 play — because I retain possession of the cash ; and be assured I 
 shall stand your friend." 
 
 " By the bye, what name did the person in question leave with 
 your clerk?" asked De Rosann, as he. was about to quit the 
 office. 
 
 " Monsieur le Comte d'Elsigny" returned the banker after a mo- 
 mentary reference to his book of addresses. 
 
 " Thank you," said De Rosann ; and he wished the banker a 
 good morning ; but before he had gained the door, Mr. Robson 
 caught him by the sleeve, and reminded him of his engagement for 
 the next day. 
 
 When De Rosann returned to the hotel, which was tile principal 
 house of resort for all foreigners visiting the English metropolis, he 
 found a letter, upon the table in his room, and instantly recognized 
 the hand-writing of Belle-Rose. The contents ran as follows : — 
 
 " By accident we have both taken up our abode at the same 
 inn : you arrived a couple of hours after me, and I saw you step 
 
134 ALFRED; OR ADVENTURES 
 
 out of the post-chaise that brought you hither. I have, therefore, 
 resolved on choosing another lodging. 
 
 i; Of course you intend to commence a desperate warfare with 
 me relative to the papers. If it be your intention to divulge all 
 you know of my character, I shall naturally do the same good office 
 towards you: but if it suit you to forget the circumstances under 
 which we first met, and to fight, upon fair ground, with any wea- 
 pons save those of scandal, I am willing to make the compact ; for 
 it will not forward either of our purposes to let the world know we 
 are two fugitive galley-slaves. 
 
 " Should this mutual concession obtain your approbation, I shall 
 soon discover your assent by your actions. Therefore rest assured 
 that the secret is safe with me until your lips have divulged it to 
 my disgrace ; and then the shame will be equally shared. It suits 
 me to take another name : the suppression of your knowledge of 
 that change enters into our compact as well as any other circum- 
 stance unconnected with the papers : but of course I do not sup- 
 pose you will allow the limits of our agreement to comprehend the 
 stratagem by which I obtained possession of the said documents. 
 You see I am willing to act justly ; and, that I anticipate your 
 slightest objection to the conditions of our treatv- Encore [fin contre 
 
 finr 
 
 The contents of this letter did not at all displease our hero, as 
 the reader may well imagine : and he was not afraid that Belle- 
 Rose, or the Count d'Elsigny, would break an agreement that 
 involved his own honour as deeply as that of his adversary. But 
 while he made this reflection, he could not help smiling at the easy 
 and off-hand manner in which his late companion, or guide, penned 
 the epistles that conveyed his thoughts, exactly as he would have 
 expressed them in conversation. 
 
 In the course of the day, De Rosann wrote a letter to Mr. Clayton, 
 at St. Malo, stating, that certain circumstances, which he could not 
 explain until they met, had obliged him to hasten to London instead 
 of returning to Paris, according to his former determination. He 
 concluded with a long paragraph to his beloved Eloise, wherein he 
 assured her of the permanence of his affection, and of the sanguine 
 hopes he entertained of being one day able to demand her hand in 
 marriage of her mother. He besought her not to despair, but to 
 keep up her spirits to the utmost of her power, and refrain, as 
 much as possible, from tormenting Mrs. Clayton with supplications 
 that at present were vain, as he was almost certain of speedily- 
 removing every obstacle to their union. 
 
OF A FRENCH GENTLEMAN. 135 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 MR. CLAYTON AND THE COOK 
 
 When once a subject of dispute arises in a family, and is no; 
 immediately settled by a firm decision, scarcely a day passes with- 
 out witnessing; a reference to the unpleasant topic. Mrs. Clayton 
 was perpetually endeavouring to persuade her brother-in-law to 
 forbear mentioning; the name of De Ilosann in the presence of his 
 niece ; and he as invariably forgot, or wilfully transgressed, her in- 
 junctions. The object of all his comparisons, when he wished to cite 
 an instance of a noble disposition, or an honourable-minded young 
 man, was De Rosann : he never returned from his watt, but he 
 was sure to have seen a person who strongly reminded him of 
 De Rosann : the best dinner he ever had eaten in France, was at the 
 Rocker de Cancale with De Rosann : he seldom failed to notice, at 
 supper-time, that he wished he had some of the Madeira he was 
 accustomed to drink when he passed the evening at De Rosann's 
 house ; and as soon as his eye caught sight of the Constitutionnel 
 and the Journal des Debn.ts* on the breakfast-table of a morning, he 
 deplored the absence of De Rosann to discuss with him the pro- 
 ceedings of the ministers of the good King Charles the Tenth. 
 
 " I wonder you can be so obstinate, William,'' said Mrs. Clayton 
 one day, when Eloise had left the room for a moment to retire to 
 her bed-chamber, where she could sit and ponder on De Rosann 
 without restraint, " as to persist in perpetually recalling to the 
 memory of your niece a name which she ought to forget as soon as 
 possible." 
 
 " And do you think, my dear sister," returned Mr. Clayton, 
 " that the heart of Eloise is made of iron — that she can cease to 
 remember one whom she tenderly loves, and on whose image she 
 dotes more than ever — that she possesses superhuman powers over 
 her passions — and that her chaste affection for a deserving young 
 man can be eradicated as easily as the recollection of an every-day 
 occurrence ?" 
 
 " Time works extraordinary changes," said Mrs. Clayton. 
 
 " But there are feelings which no time can deaden — nothing less 
 than the grave can overcome ! " exclaimed Mr. Clayton solemnly. 
 
 " Not in so young a heart," persisted the deluded mother. 
 
 " You may perhaps discover your error when it is too late, 
 madam," cried the irritated brother-in-law ; " at all events, I shall 
 have performed my duty towards a niece whom I love, and a friend 
 whom I deem worthy of a connexion with us." 
 
 " Nothing on earth shall induce me to give my consent to so 
 ineligible a match," said Mrs. Clayton, angry in her turn, " save 
 on one condition, — and as that is an impossibility, or, at all events, a 
 great improbability, my daughter stands but a small chance of 
 becoming De Rosann's bride/ 1 
 
 * The two leading French daily papers. 
 
136 ALFRED; OR ADVENTURES 
 
 " Might I be acquainted with the nature of that condition V 
 
 " 'Tis scarcely worth mentioning," remarked the mother. 
 
 " Nay — I have a motive," urged Mr. Clayton. 
 
 " Let him, then, discover the particulars relative to my late 
 father's disappearance — his renl name, and rank in life — and the 
 fate of the property he succeeded in realizing." 
 
 " Absurd ! " cried the disappointed Mr. Clayton, who thought 
 that some other condition was about to be proposed by his sister- 
 in-law. " You know he never can discover those secrets which my 
 father in vain sought to develop." 
 
 " Then let him renounce all hope of possessing my daughter ! " 
 returned Mrs. Clayton. 
 
 " I shall divide my fortune between her and De Rosann," said 
 the uncle drily ; " for I do not believe that if he did fulfil the harsh 
 terms you impose, you would even then accord your consent." 
 
 " On my honour I would," exclaimed the mother, desirous of 
 putting an end to this dispute. 
 
 " And I sincerely hope your honour may be put to the test." 
 
 Mrs. Clayton would have, perhaps, replied to this sarcasm, had 
 not the musical voice of a songstress in the street fallen upon her 
 ear at the moment, and rivetted her attention to the air with which 
 a poor girl was delighting a crowd incapable of appreciating the 
 merits of her harmony. 
 
 " 'Tis a lovely air!" exclaimed Eloise, running into the room, 
 and hastening to the window. " The chant euse sings with some 
 taste ; and I am devotedly attached to those martial measures." 
 
 Eloise placed herself against the window in such a manner, that 
 the searching glances of a curious multitude could not reach her, 
 while the songstress essayed the following air in a voice naturall 
 sweet and agreeable. 
 
 ORLANDO'S WAR SONG. 
 
 He's the pride of the land, and the subject of story, 
 
 The hills and the valleys re-echo his fame ; 
 O then let his vassals sing praise to his glory, 
 And tremble, adoring their Roldan's dread name ! 
 The demon of slaughter 
 
 Lent nerve to his hand, 
 When Erivain's water 
 Roll'd red to the land ; 
 While the murmurs of woe, and the screams of the dying, 
 Were mixed with the agonized shouts of the flying. 
 
 Like the eagle that governs the regions of heaven, 
 
 Like the lion that widely extends his domain, 
 Meet praise and meet honours to Roldan are given, 
 Renowned in the dale, and beloved on the plain. 
 The subject of story, 
 
 The boast of the brave ; 
 The paladins' glory, 
 And mighty to save, 
 "When the murmurs of woe, and the screams of the dying, 
 Are mixed with the agonized shouts of the flying. 
 
OF A FRENCH GENTLEMAN. 137 
 
 Then march to the field — for the commns are wending,—- 
 
 The brands are undrawn, and the sheaths are away ; 
 The Angel of Death to each army is sending 
 His pinions of slaughter — O haste to the fray ! 
 The sun that is beaming, 
 High over their heads, 
 At eve shall be gleaming 
 On their lowly beds ; 
 For the murmurs of woe, and the screams of the dying, 
 Shall mix with the agonized shouts of the flying. 
 
 The banner of conquest with Roldan is waving, 
 
 His arm has well wielded the chivalrous brand ; 
 The foe is beneath him for clemency craving — 
 Orlando's the pride and the boast of the land. 
 When warriors are sounding 
 
 Alarms on the shield, 
 When chargers are bounding, 
 He's first in the field, 
 Where the murmurs of woe, and the screams of the dying, 
 Are mixed with the agonized shouts of the flying. 
 
 The song was concluded, — Eloise threw a few small pieces of 
 money from the window, — the chanteuse looked up to express her 
 gratitude with a glance, and passed on. 
 
 There is something peculiarly attractive in the martial or na- 
 tional airs of France. Their versification is good; and in this 
 point they are infinitely superior to the English. But there is one 
 fault — if fault it can be called — that is common to all : we mean 
 their extreme length, which renders them tedious when sung in 
 society. The most scrupulous critic, whose doubts as to the 
 legitimacy of rhymes are numerous and severe, cannot quarrel 
 with those of the French national songs, nor can his lynx eye 
 detect the slightest error in their euphony and measures. This 
 much cannot be said in favour of English airs of the same kind. 
 Many of them are a compound of the most wretched nonsense, 
 tacked together, without the slightest regard to " rhyme or reason," 
 to agree with the notes of certain tunes. Let us merely quote, as 
 an instance of the misery of their rhymes, "over us" and "glo- 
 rious," in God save the King. The memory of the reader can 
 doubtless supply a thousand others. 
 
 But as these chapters are not written with a view to create 
 elaborate comparisons between the respective merits of the man- 
 ners, the institutions, or the literature of the two first nations in 
 Europe, we shall relinquish our brief criticism, and continue the 
 thread of our narrative. 
 
 Mr. Clayton was more annoyed than ever at the dispute which 
 had just taken place between nimself and his sister-in-law; and as 
 soon as the chanteuse had concluded her song, he seized his hat, 
 and ran out of the room to hide his vexation elsewhere. Now, the 
 excellent uncle of our fair heroine was somewhat of a gourmand in 
 his way : he loved the French dishes and the French cookery as 
 dearly as could an Apicius or a Heliogabulus, without affecting 
 
 18 
 
138 ALFRED; OR ADVENTURES 
 
 the exquisite refinement of the former, or the delicate taste of the 
 latter, whose usual food was peacock's brains and sparrow's tongues. 
 As Mr. Clayton was walking down the street, directing his steps 
 towards the quay, he was struck by the cleanly appearance of a 
 new shop for the sale of comestibles, or friandises, which had only 
 been opened that morning. A few loiterers were standing oppo- 
 site the entrance, gazing on the poulets truffes, the pates de foie 
 yras, the chevreuil, and a variety of other dainties, spread in gor- 
 geous array along the clean boards that slanted and projected on 
 each side of the door. Mr. Clayton stopped for a moment, to 
 regale himself with the odour of savoury meats that issued from 
 the kitchen ; and seeing some game apparently suited to his taste, 
 he entered the shop to purchase it. An individual, whose head 
 was enveloped in a white night-cap, stepped forward, uttered an 
 exclamation of delight, and seized the hand of his customer, who 
 would as soon have found himself in the midst of Araby's hottest 
 desart, as exposed to so friendly a welcome from one whom he 
 speedily discovered to be the officious cook he had seen on the 
 premises of Louis Dorval. 
 
 " Do you not recollect me?" shouted Champignon. " 'Twas I 
 that served up your breakfast a few days ago — " 
 
 a Yes — yes, my good friend — I think I call to mind — " 
 
 " O you need not think," cried the gastronomer, at length in- 
 duced to relinquish Mr. Clayton's hand ; " for by enumerating the 
 various dishes you partook of, I can speedily satisfy you as to the 
 truth of my assertion." 
 
 " There's a man that does not choose to be misunderstood ! " re- 
 marked one of the loiterers outside. 
 
 " I dare say Monsieur Citron" (for that was the name Cham- 
 pignon had adopted), " has recognised his friend or acquaintance 
 Cornichon" said another : and a hearty laugh followed this exe- 
 crable piece of wit. 
 
 Mr. Clayton's indignation, or rather confusion, knew no bounds. 
 He was in an ill humour when he entered the shop ; the present 
 scene did not help to cool his temper. Ashamed, however, to give 
 vent to his wrath in public, he inquired the price of a brace of 
 pheasants; and Champignon hastened to describe the peculiar 
 excellencies of a variety of dishes, having placed an exorbitant 
 value on the birds which had originally attracted his present 
 customer. 
 
 a Well well !" cried Mr. Clayton, wearied of the gastronomer s 
 
 explanations, and anxious to escape from the rude gaze of the 
 loiterers at the door ; " have the kindness to send them to my 
 lodgings"— and he gave the address. 
 
 " The pheasants, and the other articles I recommended ?" in- 
 quired Champignon. 
 
 « Yes any thing you choose," replied Mr. Clayton, scarcely 
 
 comprehending a word that was said to hin> so great was his 
 
 confusion. ,,,„ 
 
 " O but you must cast a single glance at my kitchen ! ex- 
 claimed the provoking Champignon, laying hold of his customer's 
 
OP A FRENCH GENTLEMAN 130 
 
 arm, and endeavouring to pull him towards the entrance of the 
 place he had mentioned. 
 
 " I will not give you the trouble. '' 
 
 " No trouble, I assure you ; allow me to show you the way." 
 
 " My God, what a man ! " cried Mr. Clayton, in agony ; and 
 disengaging his arm by a sudden motion, he made his escape from 
 the shop, and took refuge in a neighbouring news-room for a 
 couple of hours, fearful of meeting the sneering countenances of 
 any of the individuals who had witnessed his unlucky encounter 
 with Champignon. On his return home, he found Mrs. Clayton, 
 his niece, and the cook, in grand consultation together, and over- 
 heard the voice of the servant, saying, " You may depend upon it, 
 Madame, that Monsieur intends to regale a large party of friends." 
 
 " Indeed he does not, though ! " exclaimed Mr. Clayton, stepping 
 forward, and pushing open the kitchen door, in the vicinity of 
 which he was standing. 
 
 " Then wherefore such a profusion of dishes?" asked Mrs. Clayton. 
 
 " There must be some mistake !" cried her brother-in-law, whose 
 countenance betokened ill humour and perplexity. 
 
 " Oh ! no — since the friandeur produced the address of the 
 house written upon your own card." 
 
 " A short fat man, with a red nose, and a white night-cap," 
 added the servant ; " he insisted upon tasting my soup, declared 
 there was no tarragon in it, and when I remonstrated, the wretch 
 replied, that ' I must not contradict the best cook in Europe.' " 
 
 Mr. Clayton's eye now fell for the first time on the kitchen 
 dresser; and his astonishment was not a little excited by the ob- 
 jects that met his view. He instantly suspected the real truth, 
 snatched the bill out of his sister-in-law's hands, and when he saw 
 it was receipted, uttered an emphatic oath, which we shall suppress 
 for the sake of delicacy, and on account of our regard for the fair 
 sex. Suffice it to say, Champignon had so amply supplied Mr. 
 Clayton's larder with all the most costly luxuries of the season, 
 that there could not remain a doubt as to the whole family being 
 provided for during the next fortnight. Mrs. Clayton had paid 
 the petit memoire, which amounted to the moderate sum of four 
 hundred and seventeen francs, because the bearer produced her 
 brother-in-law's card ; and although she could not comprehend the 
 reason of such an expensive outlay, she did not for an instant 
 suspect the justice of the demand. 
 
 " This day's work," said Mr. Clayton, " will be a good lesson 
 to me for the future, not to stroll into shops when 1 am in an ill 
 humour." 
 
 " If we were only thus regaled," observed the amiable Eloise, 
 " every time you are out of temper, my dear uncle, it would not 
 be very often." 
 
140 ALFRED; OR ADVENTURES 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 THE DINNER-PARTY. 
 
 Precisely as the clock struck six, Alfred De Rosann was ushered 
 into the drawing-room at the magnificent abode of Mr. Robson. 
 An elderly lady and two young ones were seated with the banker 
 before a small fire, which had been lighted to give the apartment 
 an air of cheerfulness, as the shutters were closed, and the lamps 
 were already placed upon the table. Mr. Robson welcomed our 
 hero with a frankness and cordiality which proved how religiously 
 Belle-Rose had maintained the conditions of the compact to which 
 De Rosann was disagreeably obliged by circumstances to assent. 
 Alfred was then presented to Mrs. and the Misses Robson. He 
 would gladly have sought an opportunity of questioning the banker 
 alone for five minutes relative to that gentleman's interview and 
 proceedings with Belle-Rose ; but politeness, and the entrance of 
 two other guests, obliged him to restrain his curiosity. 
 
 '• M. Lebrun is invariably late," remarked Mr. Robson, con- 
 sulting his watch, and manifesting the venial impatience of a host 
 who is fearful that the dinner may be spoilt, or of a man of busi- 
 ness whose appetite has been sharpened by an intense application 
 to his affairs. 
 
 " Ah ! do you expect Lebrun ?" inquired a little gentleman with 
 a vast appendage of gold seals to his watch-chain. 
 
 " The entertaining Frenchman that speaks broken English, and 
 that I often meet at your house, Robson, do you mean t* asked 
 the other visitor, whose nose was adorned with an immense pair 
 of silver spectacles. 
 
 " The same," returned Mr. Robson. 
 
 " I heard a rumour upon 'Change to day, relative to yourself and 
 Lebrun," said he of the seals, addressing himself to Mr. Robson. 
 
 •' Indeed ! I wish he would make his appearance ! But what 
 did you hear, Mr. Goldsmith ?" inquired the banker. 
 
 " That you and the Frenchman were about to form a partner- 
 ship," was the reply. 
 
 " There is some truth in it," returned Mr. Robson : then seeing 
 that De Rosann was unable to take a part in their conversation, 
 he said to him in French, " I do not know enough of your Bourse 
 in Paris ; but our 'Change is dreadfully scandalous. My friend 
 on the right informs me he has already heard a report, that I am 
 about to form a mercantile connexion with M. Lebrun, — a French 
 gentleman whom I invited for the express purpose of meeting 
 you-" 
 
 " I offer you a thousand thanks for such kind consideration," 
 cried De Rosann : " but does no member of your family speak my 
 native language ?" 
 
 " How silly I am!" exclaimed the banker, striking his hand 
 upon his thigh, as if vexed with himself for not having thought of 
 
Of A FRENCH GENTLEMAN. 141 
 
 something before. " My younger daughter, Selina, is perfectly 
 acquainted with French : do try her, and see if she have forgotten 
 any of it." 
 
 But before De Rosann had time to avail himself of Mr. Robson's 
 hint, the drawing-room door was thrown open, and a domestic an- 
 nounced the arrival of M. Lebrun. 
 
 As if a basilisk had stung his hand, De Rosann gave a sudden 
 start, and overturned the chair from which he had risen to be pre- 
 sented to M. Lebrun. No sooner had he set his eyes on the indi- 
 vidual who bore that name, than he recognized a person he wished 
 to meet before almost any other in the world. The recognition was 
 mutual — so was the sudden start — for both were electrified, as it 
 were, by the same machine. They then bowed coolly to each other, 
 and seated themselves. 
 
 " Have you been long in London ?" enquired Lebrun timidly. 
 
 " Two days," answered our hero abruptly. 
 
 " You came direct from Paris ? or have you been in any other 
 country ? " asked Lebrun, recovering a little assurance. 
 
 De Rosann gave no reply: his object was gained by the few 
 words that had passed with his fellow-countryman. Lebrun was 
 evidently ignorant of what had happened to him : that was all our 
 hero required to know ; and, instead of encouraging the conversa- 
 tion of an individual whom he did not like, he turned to say a few 
 words to Miss Selina Robson. 
 
 Dinner was presently announced ; and De Rosann offered his 
 arm to Selina, whom he found to be unaffected and accomplished. 
 Lebrun was accidentally seated opposite to him at the table ; but 
 he carefully avoided encountering the glances of our hero. 
 
 "You are dull to-day, Lebrun," cried Mr. Robson, when an 
 interval between the courses gave him an opportunity of remarking 
 his guest's unusual taciturnity. 
 
 " A slight head-ache, my dear sir — 'tis nothing." 
 
 " A glass of Champagne will raise your drooping spirits," ob- 
 served the banker, making a signal to the domestic to serve M. 
 Lebrun with the delicious juice of Epernay's choicest grapes. 
 
 " M. Lebrun is doubtless fond of Champagne," remarked De 
 Rosann with an emphasis, the bitter irony of which was alone per- 
 ceived by him whom it was intended to annoy. 
 
 " It is" the finest production of my native country," muttered the 
 crest-fallen Frenchman in a low voice. 
 
 " You certainly have experienced a loss to-day on 'Change," 
 cried the gentleman who sported the silver spectables, and whose 
 name was Jenkins. 
 
 " There was a fall in the four -per cents;' said Mr. Robson ; " and 
 I will wager heavily that my speculative friend has suffered by the 
 reaction. Do you know, M. De Rosann," continued the banker, 
 speaking in French, " that Lebrun is a desperate gambler in the 
 funds?" 
 
 "I can readily believe it," answered our hero drily, while 
 M. Lebrun's colour went and came ten times alternately in a 
 minute. 
 
142 ALFRED; OR ADVENTURES 
 
 " And yet the world says we are about to sign agreements ot 
 partnership," added Mr. Robson with a smile. 
 
 " Miss Selina, shall I have the pleasure of taking wine with you ?" 
 said Lebrun, whose embarrassment was increasing every moment, 
 and whose confusion, at the last remark made by Mr. Robson, was 
 palpable to all present. 
 
 44 He does not wish it to be publicly known quite yet," whis- 
 pered the banker to the gentleman in spectacles : and the worthy 
 Mr. Robson actually believed the truth of his own assertion. 
 
 The conversation now became more general, as the dessert had 
 made its appearance. De Rosann was surprised at the removal of 
 the table-cloth immediately before this last service ; and his wonder 
 was not a little excited when he saw the ladies rise from their seat3 
 and leave the room unattended by the gentlemen. His good sense, 
 however, almost instantly assured him that this was one of the pre- 
 vailing customs in England j and he did not suffer any mark of 
 astonishment to escape him. 
 
 44 By the bye," said Mr. Robson, when he had passed the decan- 
 ters of port and sherry to his neighbour, " it is true that Williams, 
 the stock-broker, has absconded." 
 
 " Indeed ! " cried he of the seals : '• I heard a vague rumour of 
 the affair this morning, but did not attach any importance to it." 
 
 44 Has he decamped with much property?" enquired Mr. Jenkins, 
 whom we might have dubbed knight of the silver barnacles. 
 
 44 1 fancy not," answered the banker : and remarking that De 
 Rosann did not discourse with Lebrun, he explained in French the 
 subject of the present conversation. 
 
 44 Such instances, I hope, are rare in this land," said Alfred with 
 a bitter smile. 44 In France, the stock-brokers, as well as the law- 
 yers and the notaries, are obliged to give an ample security for the 
 rectitude of their proceedings to the government ; and no man can 
 become a stock-broker, without being able to prove that he pos- 
 sesses a certain property." 
 
 44 In that case public confidence is seldom violated," observed 
 Mr. Robson. 
 
 44 Alas ! how deeply is it to be deplored that the vices and immo- 
 rality of mankind render such precautions necessary 1 " cried De 
 Rosann. 44 No trust ought to be deemed more sacred than the 
 private property of individuals. By a base flight with the treasures 
 placed in your care, you involve the peace and prosperity of thou- 
 sands : you reduce the widow and the orphan to a state of men- 
 dicity ; you deprive the poor of their hard- earned savings, and the 
 industrious of their honourably-acquired competency. So base a 
 breach of all social and moral ties, frequently causes a thousand 
 times more distress than the delinquent might have anticipated. In 
 commercial speculations, there are so many connective links, so 
 many wheels within wheels, that the ruin of one house may origi- 
 nate the fall of twenty. Credit is suspended — the good suffer for 
 the evil — and the upright intentions of the just man are rendered 
 liable to suspicion. As years succeed years, it daily becomes mors 
 difficult for an individual to obtain a loan, save on the most unex- 
 
OP A FRENCH GENTLEMAN. 143 
 
 ceptionable security. Need we look far for the causes of so uni- 
 versal a distrust ? " 
 
 " Your remarks are as true as the gospel," said Mr. Robson, 
 who had listened with the greatest attention to the words of his 
 guest : " and, as you assert, the virtuous invariably suffer for the 
 vicious; the deeds of bad men render the actions of the con- 
 scientious doubtful : as luxury increases, so does crime." 
 
 " And it is terrible to be deceived by one in whom you have 
 placed confidence," continued De Rosann, heedless of the banker's 
 observations, and raising his voice to its highest key. " Friend- 
 ship becomes a coin with which a man endeavours to cheat his 
 neighbour : affection — love — gratitude — are all sacrificed, in this 
 age of corruption, on the altar of self-interest. But the day of 
 retribution must come ; the villain and the deceiver cannot long 
 triumph in their turpitude ; nor the hypocrite in his guile ; — ven- 
 geance—justice—or the hand of Providence will assuredly overtake 
 them in their wicked career. I knew a man who entrusted all his 
 affairs to a treacherous partner ; this partner absconded with the 
 property, and left the business of his confiding associate in a state 
 of utter ruin. The scoundrel fled to another country — was hospi- 
 tably received by a worthy and open-hearted father of a family — 
 and then had the baseness to contemplate robbing his new bene- 
 factor. What do you think of conduct like this, gentlemen ? and 
 what would you say to the wretch who is capable of such damnable 
 deeds ? I need scarcely ask you. Well — I am the individual who 
 placed his confidence so foolishly— that is the man," proceeded 
 De Rosann in a voice of thunder, as he pointed to Lebrun, " who 
 absconded with my property — and you, Mr. Robson, are the hos- 
 pitable parent he would even now deceive ! " 
 
 " Is it possible ! " cried the banker, his hand trembling, his 
 cheek turning pale, and his pulse beating quickly. 
 
 " Tis as I tell you," answered Alfred in a lower tone : " the 
 name of that villain is La Motte. Let him deny it if he can ! " 
 
 " M. De Rosann — I am sure— you do not mean," began the 
 miserable wretch, endeavouring to pacify our hero's wrath by 
 means of a paltry excuse or apology. 
 
 " Depart — quit— leave this house directly — defile it no longer 
 with your presence ! " ejaculated Alfred, pointing towards the door. 
 ** Obey me, La Motte — or I shall not be able to master my indigna- 
 tion ! " 
 
 The degraded Frenchman' did not wait for a second bidding — he 
 dreaded a more severe proof of De Rosann's vindictive feelings 
 against him, if he did not execute his command — and, without 
 daring to raise his eyes towards a single soul, he sneaked out of the 
 room like a malefactor detected in an infamous deed. 
 
 " I should have spared you this scene, my dear sir," said Alfred, 
 addressing himself to Mr. Robson, when* the door had closed 
 behind La Motte, " had not your intentions of forming a partner- 
 ship with the villain, who has just left lis, been communicated to 
 me. I forebore to act thus summarily in the presence of your wife 
 and daughters, — and I solicit your pardon for having taken upon 
 
144 ALFRED; OR ADVENTURES 
 
 myself the task of expelling that man from your society after I had 
 made my accusation, to which his manners, his countenance, and 
 his subsequent cowardice pleaded guilty." 
 
 " My dear young friend," cried the banker, rising from his seat, 
 and embracing our hero as if he had known him since the moment 
 of his oirth ; " how deeply am I indebted to you for the important 
 service you have just rendered me. Within ten days would that 
 infamous scoundrel have been a partner in my bank ; the deeds are 
 already more than half completed at my lawyer's office. O 
 never can I forget this providential interference in my behalf! " 
 
 " I have acted as you would have done towards me," returned 
 De Rosann ; " and I sincerely congratulate you on your narrow 
 escape. In less than six months M. La Motte would have ab- 
 sconded to America with all your fortune." 
 
 " I know it — I know it! " cried the banker, wiping away tears 
 of joy from his eyes, and hugging jur hero once more in his' arms. 
 
 In the mean time, the gentlemen of the seals and the spectacles 
 sate in mute astonishment, observing all that passed, but under- 
 standing nothing, for a reason which scarcely requires explanation. 
 
 " 'Tis a part extracted from a French drama.'" whispered Mr. 
 Jenkins. 
 
 " To be sure," returned the other, in the same sotto voce. " The 
 young Frenchman is the heroine's lover ; Mr. Robson is her father, 
 and Lebrun is a villain who has endeavoured to set him against 
 the match, and to seduce the daughter." 
 
 " I should not at all wonder," said he of the barnacles. u See 
 how naturally the young fellow performs his part. The father is 
 convinced by his eloquence — the scandalizing mischief-maker dares 
 not reply. Ah ! he decamps — and just as if he were guilty, too ! " 
 
 " And now the father falls upon the young lover's neck, and 
 embraces him. The heroine will be shortly introduced : I'll lay a 
 wager 'tis Selina. Well ! this is an agreeable surprise ! But when 
 I reflect a moment, I think I have seen a translation or imitation 
 of the piece at the Haymarket," added Mr. Goldsmith. 
 
 " I am sure I have at the Adelphi," returned Mr. Jenkins : 
 and as Alfred and the banker had now ceased speaking, and had 
 resumed their seats, the two gentlemen whose imaginations were 
 so fertile, shouted "Bravo! bravo!" with all theirmight. They 
 moreover clapped their hands so violently upon the table, that the 
 glasses, plates, and knives, danced up and down with a terrible 
 clatter. Mrs. Robson and her daughters caught the unusual sound, 
 as they were preparing the tea and coffee in the drawing-room, 
 and hastened to ascertain the meaning of it. This sudden appear- 
 ance of the three ladies convinced their speculative visitors more 
 than ever that the whole was a comedy got up for the occasion : 
 and instead of ceasing their shouts and their clapping, they con- 
 tinued to roar and to knock the table like a couple of mad-men. 
 
 At length, after a great deal of difficulty, order was restored, 
 and an explanation took place. M? Robson detailed all that had 
 occurred, to the entire confusion ol the two guests who had told 
 each other such wilful untruths about their having seen a certain 
 
OF A FRENCH GENTLEMAN. 145 
 
 play at the Haymarket and Adelphi theatres. The whole party 
 then retired to the salon, where the beverages concocted with the 
 produce of Souchong and Mocha were served to the gentlemen. 
 
 It was very easy to perceive that De Rosann had suddenly be- 
 come a great favourite with the whole family. Indeed, it was 
 both natural and proper that he should be so ; for he had rendered 
 Mr. llobson a most important service — a service that had savetf 
 the confiding banker from certain ruin ; consequently, a service 
 that never could be forgotten. He ceased all in a moment to 
 appear as a stranger among them, — he was converted, as it were 
 by enchantment, into a benefactor, a friend, an intimate acquaint- 
 ance. Selina thanked him " for his handsome conduct " in the 
 name of her mother and sister, as they were totally ignorant of 
 the French language ; and she recounted to him, with a few inno- 
 cent additions to increase its ludicrous aspect, the mistake made 
 by Mr. Goldsmith and Mr. Jenkins. Alfred laughed till the 
 tears ran down his cheeks ; but he expressed his sorrow that the 
 worthy geniuses were not suffered to remain in their happy state 
 of ignorance concerning the truth of the matter. 
 
 Before the hour of departure arrived, Mr. Robson drew De 
 Rosann aside, and commenced a topic peculiarly interesting to 
 3ur hero. 
 
 " I received a visit from the Count d'Elsigny yesterday after- 
 noon," said he ; " but I suspect that he is about as much entitled 
 to that rank as you or I." 
 
 " Perhaps so," remarked Alfred, without manifesting any signs 
 of embarrassment, having made up his mind how to act relative to 
 Belle-Rose. 
 
 u But that is immaterial," continued the banker : " the object 
 of his visit is the essential point." 
 
 " Did he entrust you with the documents ?" inquired De Rosann. 
 " You shall hear. He called upon me, according to appoint- 
 ment, and stated his business ; of which I, of course, in the first 
 instance affected a profound ignorance. Having furnished me 
 with a verbal analysis of the contents of the documents he held in 
 his possession, he desired to know whether I considered myself 
 empowered to hand him over the property of the late Marquis de 
 Denneville, upon his furnishing me with a receipt, or any other 
 security of the kind which I might require. My reply was to the 
 effect, that I must peruse the deeds before I could give an answer. 
 He hesitated, — and by a subtle turn endeavoured to ascertain 
 whether any person had lately applied to me concerning the same 
 affair. I settled his skilfully managed interrogations by an eva- 
 sion, and again requested him to entrust me with the papers for 
 four-and-twenty hours. To this he objected, — muttered something 
 about considering the matter, and withdrew, telling me he should 
 call in the course of three or four days, when he had consulted his 
 legal adviser." 
 
 "And in the mean time what is to.be done?" asked Alfred, 
 fearful that his most sanguine anticipations were destined to fall 
 to the ground. 
 
 19 
 
H6 ALFRED; OR ADVENTURES 
 
 " Patience, my dear friend— patience !" cried the banker. 
 
 " Have you reflected that tliis Count d'Elsigny may leave the 
 country, sell the papers with the chance of procuring any thing 
 through their agency to some Jew, or destroy them in a fit of 
 disappointment and rage?" said our hero. 
 
 " I have considered the matter much more maturely than you 
 think," returned Mr. Robson ; " and the result of my delibera- 
 tions makes me perfectly easy on all those points ; because it stands 
 to reason, my young friend, that the Count will visit me again, 
 and that he will prefer entrusting me with the papers to resigning 
 all hope of recovering a farthing at my hands." 
 
 ' k That is true," said De Rosann : " and he may have postponed 
 this visit for a few days in order to see how I shall act in the 
 mean time ; for he knows that I am in London." 
 
 " There is then a sufficient explanation of his conduct," cried 
 the banker, with a smile of satisfaction. " Do not be alarmed, — 
 we will bring the rogue to reason ; and I again repeat, let us have 
 a little patience for the moment. Should your funds run low, and 
 should you not choose to draw upon Paris, you know where to 
 come for a supply ; I shall feel proud to be your banker as well as 
 your friend." 
 
 Alfred returned his most sincere thanks for this generous offer,, 
 the full extent of which he duly appreciated ; and having paid his 
 resnects to Mrs. and the Misses Robson, he withdrew to his hoteL 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 BELLE-ROSE. 
 
 Mr. Robson prophesied truly. In a few days Belle-Rose — for we 
 shall still continue to call him by his proper name— paid another 
 visit to the banker, and inquired if he had thought any further 
 upon the important question connected with the papers. 
 
 " I can only repeat my former words," cried the man of busi- 
 ness : "do you possess any document authorising you to receive 
 the property of the late Marquis de Denneville, which is deposited 
 in my hands, either as his heir or in behalf of his heirs ?" 
 
 " No, I cannot say that I do," answered Belle-Rose. 
 
 " Then how can you expect me to surrender into your hands a 
 fortune, which, if unclaimed, necessarily devolves to me, like any 
 other deposit forgotten, or unasked for?" 
 
 " I merely sought information," cried Belle-Rose, somewhat 
 embarrassed how to act ; since he now saw very plainly that the 
 papers in his hands would be productive of no extraordinary benefit 
 to himself. 
 
 " Do you know the names of the real heirs, if you be not your 
 self the rightful owner of the money?" asked Mr. Robson, desirous 
 of obtaining an insisrht into the views of the soi-di^ut Count. 
 
OF A FRENCH GENTLEMAN. 147 
 
 €< Their names I am acquainted with," answered Belle-Rose, 
 seeing that it was no use to disguise the real truth ; " but their 
 place of residence I am a stranger to." 
 
 " Those papers, of course, mention the name," persisted the 
 banker. 
 
 " 'Tis solely from that quarter my knowledge is obtained. The 
 legal heir formerly resided in London ; years have however past 
 since that person quitted this kingdom." 
 
 " And you know not where to find that person, M. Le Comte V 
 said Robson. 
 
 " Candidly, I do not." 
 
 " By your own confession, then, it would appear you have no 
 right even to those papers, much less to the fortune of the Marquis 
 de Denneville," cried the banker, in a severe tone. 
 
 " That is my affair," returned Belle-Rose, with his usual cool- 
 ness and effrontery. 
 
 " I beg your pardon, M. d'Elsigny ; but you will excuse me if I 
 be somewhat inquisitive, because I am entrusted with a con- 
 siderable sum, which I dare not resign to the first individual who 
 steps forward to claim it." 
 
 " You have more claimants than one, I suppose," said Belle- 
 Rose, smiling ironically. 
 
 " I will be as frank with you as you have been with me," re- 
 plied Mr. Robson, seeing that the soi-disant Count might be induced 
 to listen to reason, although he did not fear intimidation. " There 
 are no claimants for this property, M. d'Elsigny ; but there is a 
 young gentleman, a fellow-countryman of your's, who is in com- 
 munication with me on the subject. He has discovered the abode 
 of the existing heir to the Marquis de Denneville ; he possesses the 
 authority of that heir to guarantee all he does in the business," — 
 Mr. Robson did not think a little falsehood in such an emergency 
 could be construed into a crime of very flagrant dye — " and even 
 without your papers he can soon find satisfactory evidence enough 
 to ease my mind, and to induce me to give up the funds entrusted 
 to my charge since the year 1796 or 1797." 
 
 " And the name of this young gentleman — this fellow-country- 
 man of mine — is Alfred De Rosann," exclaimed Belle-Rose, con- 
 siderably crest-fallen since the above explanation. 
 
 " The very same." 
 
 " If I had not been aware that he must have already informed 
 you of the particulars of these papers' contents, I should not have 
 answered your questions just now." 
 
 " I am perfectly convinced of the fact, M. d'Elsigny," returned 
 the banker, assuming a coolness and an indifference in the affair, 
 that threw even the wily Belle-Rose off his guard. 
 
 " Then my business with you is concluded," said Belle-Rose, 
 after a momentary pause : and he moved towards the door, expect- 
 ing the banker to retain him ; but that gentleman wished him a 
 civil " Good morning," and turned to his desk, as if to resume his 
 labours. Belle-Rose was now entirely satisfied that the papers 
 were not so absolutely necessary to the real heir as he had 
 
148 ALFRED; OK ADVENTURES 
 
 imagined; the wonderful presence of mind exhibited by Mr. 
 Robson totally deceived the experienced adventurer, and he re- 
 traced his steps to the chair he had just left, determined " to make 
 the best of a bad job," as the common expression has it. 
 
 " Mr. Robson," said he, " I am unwilling to do your young 
 friend — I mean Alfred de Rosann— " 
 
 " You are right," interrupted the banker; " he is my friend." 
 
 " I do not wish to do him any harm, nor prejudice his views by 
 retaining possession of these papers, since at all events they will 
 facilitate the progress of the affair, and afford proofs so satisfactory 
 that no doubt as to the claims of the real heir can exist ; but De 
 Rosann is indebted to me a sum of money; and however disad- 
 vantageous^ to myself he may have represented the manner in 
 which I became possessed of the documents, he could not deny in 
 my presence the fact that they were handed to me as security." 
 
 " Indeed !" said the banker, not choosing to contradict one word 
 of all that the other might tell him. 
 
 " 'Tis perfectly true, on my honour!" continued Belle-Rose, 
 with the most unblushing effrontery. " Between ourselves, De 
 Rosann has been rather wild ; and as I entertained a considerable 
 affection for the young man, I mortgaged a part of my property — 
 my own ancestral estate in Picardy, to relieve him from his em- 
 barrassments." 
 
 " Most noble conduct !" cried Mr. Robson, with a serious coun- 
 tenance, as if he believed every syllable of this rhodomontade. 
 
 " And it is my intention to give him my younger sister in mar- 
 riage, if he act honourably towards me," continued. Belle-Rose. 
 " But at present I am rather pressed for ready cash ; and as I do 
 not choose to encumber my estate in Picardy any farther — " 
 
 " Very natural!" exclaimed the banker, not a muscle of his face 
 moving, nor the slightest smile curling his lip. 
 
 " You understand me, I perceive," proceeded Belle-Rose : " I 
 am not one of those gay young noblemen who squander away their 
 property, as if estates and bank-notes were as plentiful as brick- 
 bats in a kiln. Besides, my giddy days are over, — you and I, 
 Mr. Robson, must not think of committing the follies that lead 
 children into difficulties — we have wives^" 
 
 "Ah! M. d'Elsigny is married!" crie'd the banker, feigning 
 astonishment at an assertion which he suspected to be as false as 
 the preceding, and those that were to succeed. 
 
 " O yes — and blessed with a smiling family of eleven chil- 
 dren," answered Belle-Rose, with a bland smile. " The Countess 
 was a rich heiress, of a noble and ancient family, descended in a 
 direct line from the celebrated Roldan, who was killed by Ber- 
 nardo, the Spanish warrior, at the battle of Roncesvalles — " 
 
 " I did not know Roldan left any offspring." 
 
 " I fancy, between ourselves, that they were all bastards," said 
 Belle-Rose*: " but be that as it may, my wife traces her lineage 
 back to the good old paladin ; and we have still his helmet in my 
 ancestral castle." 
 
 " And at this minute you are somewhat in want of money, 
 
Or A FRENCH GENTLEMAN. 149 
 
 M. d'Elsigny ?" cried Robson, fearful that his companion was 
 about to amuse him with the history of the twelve peers of Char- 
 lemagne, and to connect all the heroes of yore to the divers 
 branches of his family. 
 
 " Exactly, Mr. Robson ; to that point I should have come at 
 last; because, whether I borrow some ready cash of you, and leave 
 these documents as security, or whether I deposit them with my 
 notary in Paris, and obtain the necessary funds, which are not 
 very considerable, from him, it is the same to me." 
 
 " What is the amount you so generously advanced to my young 
 friend, De Rosann?" inquired Mr. Robson. 
 
 " Twenty thousand francs," was the modest reply. 
 
 " I would not give half that money to possess your documents," 
 said the banker, in a decided tone of voice. " With four hundred 
 pounds sterling I can terminate the whole affair : advertise to 
 request the witnesses to come forward — pay the French lawyers' fees 
 in Paris for collecting as many proofs as possible — remunerate the 
 various agents employed in the business, — in fine, with half the 
 sum you advanced to my young friend, I shall be able to arrange 
 every thing to my satisfaction. I speak as a banker, and as a 
 man of business, M. Le Comte : you must excuse me, but the 
 security you offer is scarcely worth ten thousand francs to me, and 
 nothing at all to any one else." 
 
 "And supposing, — merely a supposition, you know," — said 
 Belle-Rose, " that I offered to deposit these papers for that sum, 
 should you be inclined to advance the money?" 
 
 " Why — I do not exactly know — there may be no objection : I 
 have funds belonging to De Rosann in my hands; and he has 
 given me carte blanche to act for him as I choose," mused the 
 banker audibly. 
 
 " I lost a large sum last night, at play, to our ambassador, with 
 whom I am very intimate ; by the bye, I replaced him at Vienna 
 for a short time, the year before last — " 
 
 " M. d'Elsigny is a diplomatist," said Mr. Robson. 
 
 " O yes ; and a colonel in the army too," answered Belle-Rose. 
 
 " In that case I cannot refuse you the little advance you re- 
 quire," exclaimed the banker, suffering it to appear that the rank, 
 titles, family, and numerous appointments of Belle-Rose, had ori- 
 ginated this sudden resolution in his favour. 
 
 It was now that Mr. Robson made use of the soi-disant Count's 
 own falsehoods as weapons against him. 
 
 " Of course, you have a good account open with your banker in 
 Paris, Monsieur d'Elsigny." 
 
 " O certainly ; this accommodation is merely temporary." 
 
 " I thought so : in that case you will be so kind as to sign an 
 agreement, by which the documents become my own exclusive 
 property, if you do not repay me within the space of one fortnight. 
 This is merely as a matter of form, you know; because your for- 
 tune and rank in life can always command ten thousand francs — 
 it would be strange if you could not — eh ! eh !" 
 
 " Thank God ! the 'chateau d'Elsigny exists still !" cried Belle- 
 
150 ALFRED; OR ADVENTURES 
 
 Rose, " so e'en draw up your deeds as you choose ; and instead of 
 a fortnight, put ten days." 
 
 " You act like a nobleman," said Mr. Robson, Ayith an im- 
 perturbable gravity which defied the slightest suspicion of its 
 sincerity. 
 
 To be brief, the agreement was concocted according to the amend- 
 ment of Belle-Rose— the four hundred pounds were counted down 
 upon the table— and the documents were handed over to the banker. 
 When Belle-Rose had placed the bank-notes in his pocket-book, 
 and when Mr. Robson had satisfied himself by a reference to a 
 memorandum De Rosann had given him, that the papers were 
 correct, both in number and identity, he could no longer contain 
 the mingled contempt and indignation which he had nursed during 
 the last hour ; but he burst forth in a strain as vehement, if not as 
 eloquent, as that made use of by De Rosann, when he exposed the 
 villany of La Motte. 
 
 " Miserable wretch !" cried the banker ; " I know not whether 
 you be a Count or not, nor do I care : but one thing is very certain, 
 that you are nothing more than an arrant swindler — an adventurer 
 
 a thief. Do you for one moment imagine that I believed an 
 
 atom of your extravagant tales— your Roldans— your castles— your 
 revenues— and your estates ? Do you fancy I was blinded by 
 your specious stories — your bounty towards De Rosann— your 
 matrimonial speculations in his favour ? Begone ; and no longer 
 sully this office with your presence !" 
 
 " If De Rosann have said one word to you—" commenced 
 Belle-Rose. 
 
 " He has not uttered a sentence to your prejudice, save the 
 damning fact of your having stolen the papers from him at 
 Havre," cried the infuriate banker. 
 
 " 'Tis all the same ; I may as well inform you what kind of a 
 person your friend De Rosann is," exclaimed Belle-Rose, coolly : 
 and he was about to unfold all the disagreeable events in our hero's 
 life, when Mr. Robson sprung forward, seized the wretch by the 
 arm, and thrust him out of the office, anathematizing him as " a 
 calumniator and a thief." 
 
 The discomfited Pierre did not think it worth while to trouble 
 Mr. Robson any farther, but made his exit from the bank, mutter- 
 inff* curses against the English, and exclamations of joy in the same 
 breath, when he recollected the sum of money he now possessed. 
 " After all," said he, " London is a miserable city, compared to 
 my dear Paris : a cat cannot live by swindling in the former ; and 
 a whole menagerie of wild beasts may prey with impunity on the 
 worthy citizens of the latter. If it were not so devilish convenient 
 to be a Count in England, and so inconvenient— not to say un- 
 gentlemanly — to go to the galleys in France, I would return to 
 Paris forthwith. As it is, let us try London a little longer." 
 
 With these words he cocked his hat on one side, ran his fingers 
 through the bunches of hair that stuck out beneath the brims, 
 threw an extraordinary swagger into his gait, and turned into 
 Birch's on Cornhill to take a bason of turtle soup, with a look 
 

 
 7) 
 
 Qy%:- ■ ' ■ / ^^ ' '''-' 
 
OF A FRENCH GENTLEMAN. 151 
 
 of defiance at the industrious citizens whom he encountered in the 
 ?hop. 
 
 He seated himself at a table opposite to a stout, demure-looking 
 personage, whose blue coat and brass buttons, buff waistcoat, and 
 drab small-clothes, betrayed the substantial tradesman at the first 
 glance. Belle-Rose could not avoid a smile when his eye wan- 
 dered over the staid tranquil being that was discussing some ox-tail 
 with a certain relish, and was qualifying it through the medium of a 
 glass of iced punch, while all his motions appeared rather the 
 mechanically-forced efforts of an automaton, than the spontaneous 
 activity of a living thing. 
 
 " Your soup, sir!" said a waiter to Belle-Rose: and although 
 the self-clubbed count did not exactly comprehend the words of the 
 domestic, a certain savory mess, now standing before him, recalled 
 his attention from the singular figure opposite. But, no sooner 
 had he applied the first spoonful to his lips, than the scalding 
 heat of the turtle made him drop the spoon, expectorate the few 
 drops he had taken, strike the table with his hand in a paroxysm 
 of mingled agony and rage, and stamp his foot violently on that 
 which he thought was the floor : it however fell with all its weight 
 on the corns of the gentleman on the other side of the table, and 
 caused that hitherto silent personage to give vent to so terrible a 
 cry, that the waiters ran towards him with open mouths and staring 
 eyes to ascertain the origin of his agony. Belle-Rose, whose pain 
 was instantly forgotten when he heard the dismal yell, burst into a 
 fit of laughter at the comical face of his neighbour. This only in- 
 creased the wrath of him whose toes were so peculiarly sensitive ; 
 and at length, unable to contain his indignation, he, in the veritable 
 spirit of a true Englishman, raised a fist that might have floored 
 an ox, and levelled the diminutive Frenchman with the ground. 
 Belle-Rose started up, his face purple, and his eyes flashing fire : 
 but the timely interference of a policeman put an end to the war- 
 fare, and obliged the offending and the offended parties to follow 
 }nm to the Mansion House, where the Lord Mayor was sitting at 
 the moment on the magisterial bench, in order to dispatch a few 
 cases of trivial consequence. The police-officer stated the position 
 in which he discovered the two belligerents ; and the city-monarch 
 proceeded to investigate the case. 
 
 " What is your name ? " said he, addressing the Englishman, 
 
 " Daniel Higgins, please your lordship," was the reply, accom- 
 panied by a respectful salutation. 
 
 " Well, then, Mr. Daniel Higgins," continued the Lord Mayor, 
 with an emphasis that created a general titter in the court, " you 
 will be so kind as to state simply, and in as few words as possible, 
 the origin of the dispute." 
 
 " Why, your lordship," answered Mr. Higgins, scratching his 
 head, and winking his left eye, " I am a peaceable citizen, wot 
 deals in the grocery-line, and I lives in Mark-lane. Having some 
 business on Cornhill this morning, I sallies forth, and bends my 
 way towards the place of rendi-woo {rendezvous) ; but as I was 
 summat too early, and as Mister Michael Lobkins, the tanner, whom 
 
152 ALFRED; OR ADVENTURES 
 
 I expected to meet, wasn't yet arrived, I sa\s to myself, says I, 
 1 Let us go and take a bason of soup/ says I, ' at Birch's ; cos vy, I 
 always patronises the Cock, and this time we'll give t'other a 
 chance. Live and let live/ says I. So with this here intention I 
 goes to Birch's, and orders a bason of hox-tail, which is my 
 favourite beverage, with a little drop of hiced punch to wash it down. 
 Now, my Lord Mayor, there ain't a more quieter and tranquiller 
 person in existence than your humble servant as is speaking : I 
 seldom opens my mouth ; and when I does, my language is as con- 
 cise as possible." 
 
 " So I perceive," said the magistrate drily. 
 
 " Then that's positive proof, your lordship, since your lordship 
 acknowledges it yourself," cried Mr. Higgins with a species of 
 triumph depicted on his countenance. " Well, as I was saying, I 
 went into Birch's, and sate down at a table jist as gravely as your 
 lordship at the bench there, or an owl in an ivy bush. I had not. 
 been long engaged in discussing my hox-tail and sipping my punch, 
 when I hears a gallows row at the door, and I sees that insinuating 
 Frenchman, with his castor a one side, and his hair sticking out 
 like a mop, enter the inner room with a hawful swagger. ' Oh ! 
 oh ! ' says I to myself, says I, i here's summat flash from Frogland :' 
 but I says nothing aloud, your lordship, although I takes notice of 
 every thing wot passes. So that there Mounseer bounces in, set- 
 ting us all agog ; and he orders his soup, which was turtle ; and 
 while the waiter was a-fetching it, he stares at me in the most 
 himperant manner in the world, just as if my face was a bit more 
 comical than your lordship's, or any other poor ignorant creature in 
 the world. I twigs my fine gentleman's mincing looks and flagrant 
 manners ; for I have heard speak of those confounded dancing- 
 masters on t'other side of the water; but I still preserves my 
 gravity. Presently Mounseer's soup arrives, and he forgets that it 
 is steaming-hot ; so he claps a spoonful to his ugly mouth, and 
 burns himself, as you might naturally suppose. Down drops the 
 spoon — out he spits the soup — rap goes his hand on the table — and 
 plump falls his foot on my corns. Now I don't know whether your 
 lordship be blessed with corns — but I has 'em in abundance ; and 
 not being before-hand in an over good humour with our friend 
 there, J was in a devil of a rage, particularly when he burst out 
 into a horse-laugh, as if it were a devilish good joke. This irri- 
 tated nie confoundedly — and I doesn't deny having lifted up my 
 fist and knocked the Frenchman down as clean as a whistle. That's 
 
 the plain unwarnished truth, your lordship — or may I be dam 
 
 called a liar." 
 
 When this plain and concise tale was brought to a conclusion, 
 the Lord Mayor questioned Belle-Rose ; but finding that they 
 could not understand each other, an interpreter was sent for, and 
 through his agency, the following dialogue took place. 
 
 " What is your najaie ? " 
 
 " Pierre Count d'Elsigny," was the reply. 
 
 " Are you a refugee, on account of political matters, or are you 
 a resident in England for your own pleasure ? " 
 
OF A FRENCH GENTLEMAN. 153 
 
 " I travel for my own pleasure." 
 
 " Will you state the origin of the quarrel ?" said the Lord Mayor 
 in a conciliatory tone of voice, and with a politeness which he 
 thought due to the other's rank. The request was immediately 
 interpreted, and acceded to. 
 
 " I entered a pastry-cook's shop to take a bowl of soup, and, by 
 mere chance, seated myself opposite to that individual/' answered 
 Belle-Rose, pointing to Mr. Higgins, who lolled out his tongue and 
 looked towards the crowd of spectators in the court, as if he were 
 desirous of soliciting their peculiar attention to a language which 
 he, in his ignorance, laughed at. *' My soup was so hot that I 
 burnt my mquth, and accidentally stamped upon my neighbour's; 
 foot in an instant of pain. I do not deny that his ridiculous physi- 
 ognomy brought a smile to my lips : but ere I could apologize for 
 my awkwardness, he struck me a violent blow, which knocked me 
 down ; and the interference of the police-officer alone prevented 
 me from returning it." 
 
 " You are entirely in the wrong, Mr. Higgins," said the Lord 
 Mayor in a harsh tone, when he had examined the witnesses ; " and 
 if you do not satisfy this French nobleman by the most humble 
 apology, I shall not only fine you for breaking the peace, but shall 
 strongly recommend him to prosecute you for the assault." 
 
 " Lord bless your worship ! " exclaimed the chop-fallen grocer ; 
 " I'm sure if I'd known that such was the law, I would never have 
 lifted up a finger, much less a fist against the Frenchman : but, I 
 am as basely ignorant of the laws as your lordship, or any other 
 fellow-creature." 
 
 " Do not make me the subject of your odious comparisons," cried 
 the Lord Mayor ; " but terminate this affair as speedily as you can, 
 and let me never see your face in this office again." 
 
 " I thought the liberty of a British subject, who hates the French 
 as he ought to do," remonstrated Mr. Higgins, " was as safe as a 
 guinea in your lordship's pocket." 
 
 " Justice, sir, is the basis of libert}^. And now, once more, I 
 command you to solicit that gentleman's pardon, or it shall go hard 
 with you." 
 
 " Pretty justice ! " muttered Mr. Higgins between his teeth; 
 then, calling the interpreter towards him, he said, "Will you have 
 the goodness to explain to that snivelling Frenchman, that I heartily 
 forgive him for the stamp on my corns, and I desire him to think 
 no more about the rap on the head that I gave him in return ; and 
 you may say, if you like, that I'll shake hands with him, and stand 
 a bottle of wine to drink the Lord Mayor's health." 
 
 The conciliatory portion of this apology w r as briefly explained to 
 the soi-disant count, who thanked the Lord Mayor for his kindness, 
 in having thus terminated the business, and withdrew from the 
 court, saying to himself, as a complacent smile animated his coun- 
 tenance, " Well ! at all events, the English authorities pay more 
 respect to aristocracy than the French. Decidedly I must try 
 London a little longer." And having thus made up his mind to 
 prolong his visit to the metropolis of England, he pulled his hat 
 
 20 
 
154 ALFRED; OR ADVENTURES 
 
 once more over his right ear, ran his fingers through his ha£r, j nd 
 resumed his former swagger as he turned into the Poultry, 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 SELINA ROBSON. 
 
 Nothing could exceed the joy of our hero, when, at the expira- 
 tion of the ten days specified in the agreement between Mr. Robson 
 and Belle-Rose, the documents were duly handed over to him by 
 the worthy banker, who had taken such trouble to reserve them 
 from the adventurer's grasp. 
 
 " 'Twas a hard battle, my dear De Rosann : but I fought it 
 courageously on your account. The rogue whs as deep as a finished 
 scoundrel well could be. As long as I live, I shall never forget his 
 extravagant tales, which he told with such an air of sincerity, that 
 a person less experienced than myself, would certainly have believed 
 them. I met him yesterday morning in the Strand, and he bad the 
 impertinence to make me a low bow. I did not, however, care to 
 acknowledge it ; and the fellow, nothing discouraged, cried out in 
 a familiar manner, * Ah ! Robson— my boy — how are you?' he was 
 hanging on the arm of another gentleman ; and I heard him say as 
 I passed by them, < That is my banker— I am good for a thousand 
 pounds with him, thank God ! ' — Did you ever hear such effrontery V 
 
 " There is not a man in Europe more capable of suppressing a 
 blush than he," said De Rosann. " But let us forget the Count 
 d'Elsigny, and rejoice at the recovery of these precious deeds." 
 
 u You will shortly return to France, Alfred — and we shall lose 
 the pleasure of your company. You know you are a mighty favor- 
 ite at home — Mrs. Robson loves you as her own son — Mary declares 
 you are the handsomest young man she ever saw — and Selina is 
 equally ardent in her praises of your talents and literary acquire- 
 ments." 
 
 " Flattery — pure flattery, my dear Mr. Robson ! " cried De Ro- 
 sann. " But let me answer your question about my return to France. 
 Much as I am unwilling to resign, after so short and agreeable an 
 acquaintance, the pleasure of passing my evenings with your 
 amiable family, circumstances— urgent circumstances, connected 
 with these papers — will oblige me to depart almost immediately." 
 
 " And what is the meaning of immediately ?" enquired the banker 
 with a smile. " To-day — to-morrow — or in a week ? " 
 
 " The day after to-morrow : you know I promised to stay for 
 Colonel Wentworth's— or rather Mrs. Wentworth's ball; and as 
 you procured me the honour of their acquaintance and of the invi- 
 tation, I would neither pay so bad a compliment to yourself, nor to 
 your friends, as to disappear on the eve of the grand fete" 
 
 " Bravo ! " exclaimed the banker. " And now, without any 
 ceremony, my dear boy, you must make your exit from my office. 
 Look at this pile of letters— not one opened vet— the clock has 
 
OF A FRENCH GENTLEMAN. 15 5 
 
 already struck twelve — and I must answer them all before sun-set. 
 So do leave me alone for the present, and pay your respects to the 
 ladies in the drawing room ; it is not too early for a friend like 
 yourself. 
 
 " I will avail myself of your permission," said De Rosann, "and 
 communicate in person the certainty of my departure the day after 
 to-morrow." 
 
 Selina was alone in the drawing room when De Rosann entered. 
 As he ascended the stairs, the sounds of her harp fell upon his ears : 
 and they ceased the moment he touched the handle of the door. 
 
 If I have intruded upon you at so unseemly an hour, Miss Rob- 
 son, your father alone must bear the blame; for he it was who sent 
 me hither — and with a particular purpose — " 
 
 " My father was aware that you would be well received, M. De 
 Rosann," returned the young lady : " and may I know the parti- 
 cular purpose which has procured me this unexpected pleasure?" 
 she added playfully, and blushing, slightly, fearful of appearing 
 imprudently familiar. 
 
 " To announce my speedy departure," answered Alfred. 
 
 "Your departure!" cried Selina, her countenance losing its 
 vermilion tinge, and becoming deadly pale. 
 
 li Good God ! you are ill — you are unwell, Miss Robson ! " 
 exclaimed De Rosann, noticing the death-like pallor that over- 
 spread her features, and running forward to lead her to a chair. 
 
 " Thank you — it is nothing — a sudden pain — it is past," said the 
 poor girl, casting down her eyes to conceal a confusion that was too 
 evident, while her cheek and neck were once more suffused with a 
 deep crimson dye. A pause of some minutes ensued — De Rosann felt 
 uneasy; he knew not wherefore — and Selina could not suppress a sigh. 
 
 " You were practising when I intruded upon your privacy, Miss 
 Robson," said De Rosann, at length breaking a silence which was 
 equally disagreeable to himself and his companion. " Pray resume 
 your music — and perhaps I might venture to solicit you to add the 
 melody of a sweet voice to the harmony of your instrument." 
 
 " Excuse me this morning, M. De Rosann ; I am not very well 
 — a sick head-ache — -an oppression of the spirits I cannot account 
 for — have robbed me of all inclination to continue my amuse- 
 ment — " 
 
 " Even to oblige me," added Alfred in a tone of respectful 
 familiarity which he had adopted since the evening of La Motte's 
 exposure ; for although that evening was the first he had ever 
 passed in the society of Miss Selina Robson, the footing on which 
 he stood with the parents entitled him to be considered in the light 
 of something more than a common acquaintance. 
 
 "' Nay — if you particularly desire me to return to my harp,'* 
 began Selina, a partial confusion again appearing in her manner. 
 
 '* Not for worlds, Miss Robson, if you be ill — and you really do 
 not look well," exclaimed De Rosann, gazing for a moment intently 
 yet not rudely — because his glances betokened interest, and no 
 gross passion — on the countenance of Selina. 
 
 She was pale, and a tear glistened in her eye ; De Rosann 
 
156 ALFRED; OR ADVENTURES 
 
 thought she had never appeared so beautiful before. The fact was, 
 that he had not till then thought of examining her features with 
 attention. Her hair was brown — her eyes were hazel — her mouth 
 small — and her facial line was cast in a Grecian mould. Her 
 figure slender and well-formed ; she had scarcely seen two and 
 twenty summers — but her mind was even more accomplished and 
 attractive than her person. 
 
 "And wherefore are you in such haste to leave us?" enquired 
 Selina, after another pause, during which she endeavoured to com- 
 pose herself so as once more to touch upon a subject that gave her 
 pain. 
 
 " Urgent business, Miss Robson — " 
 
 " O it is always urgent business, or unexpected letters, that 
 serve now-a-days for excuses," interrupted Selina, with something 
 bitter in the emphasis she laid upon her words, although a faint 
 smile played upon her lips. " One no sooner becomes acquainted 
 with people, than they run away." 
 
 " Perhaps they occasionally do well," said De Rosann, " to leave 
 in time, ere the good impression they have created, be obliterated 
 or deadened by the faults a longer intercourse with them would 
 expose to view." 
 
 "You either wish me to pay you a compliment, or — " 
 
 "Or what?" 
 
 " Or to tell you to stay, at the risk of developing the dark side, 
 as well as the bright side of your character." 
 
 " Could you think me capable of such inordinate vanity. Miss 
 Robson ? " cried Alfred, as he inadvertently laid his hand upon 
 her own. The touch was as momentary and as evanescent as the 
 flap of a bird's wing, or the reply of an echo to a single sound ; but 
 it brought a blush to Selina's countenance — a blush that scarcely 
 failed to meet the eye of De Rosann. He did not apologize— but 
 affected to be unaware that his hand had instantaneously encoun- 
 tered her's — and he acted prudently ; for a solicitation of pardon 
 would only have attached an importance to that which Selina 
 should have regarded as a trifle. 
 
 « No— I do not think that vanity is one of the faults you intend 
 to conceal by so precipitate a departure," said Selina, endeavouring 
 to maintain a cheerful tone of voice by assuming a gaiety in her 
 conversation. 
 
 " Then you are certain that I have faults." 
 
 " Now I shall accuse you of vanity," returned Miss Robson. 
 "But is it decided that you leave London the day after to-morrow ?" 
 
 " Unalterably fixed : although others take advantage of the con- 
 venient words ' urgent circumstances,' ' matters of vital importance/ 
 et cetera, to serve as their apologists, I have no need of dissimula- 
 tion, because your father is acquainted with the important nature 
 of my affair s." 
 
 " Papa is really too tiresome ! " cried Miss Robson : " he never 
 tells us any thing. I dare say he knew three or four days ago, of 
 your intended departure." 
 
 " No — indeed he did not — let me do him that justice. It is true 
 
OF A FRENCH GENTLEMAN. 157 
 
 lie was aware of my determination to leave London as soon as I had 
 perfected a weighty affair ; but he was uncertain whether I should 
 succeed until this morning. That is — we were both morally sure — 
 though n >t absolutely." 
 
 The entrance of Mrs. Robson and her elder daughter changed 
 the conversation ; and our hero shortly after took his leave. But 
 as he returned slowly to the hotel where he lodged, his imagination 
 gave way to a variety of conflicting ideas. He was not vain in 
 reality — he did not venture to flatter himself, because he had a 
 certain pride to offer up incense to — but he suspected that his 
 anticipated departure had awakened something more important 
 than a momentary sorrow, or a common regret, in the mind of 
 Selina. Her confusion — her repeated changes of colour — her re- 
 fusal to resume her music — and the suddenness of her indisposition 
 — all corroborated his supposition. It was true he had given her 
 no reason to suppose that he was in the slightest degree captivated 
 by her charms or her accomplishments. He had paid more atten- 
 tion to her than to her sister, or to any other young lady he had 
 ever encountered at her father's house ; because she alone could 
 discourse with him in his own native language. But in all their 
 conversations, he had scarcely ever paid her the usual compliments 
 that a chivalrous spirit of gallantry invariably encourages when in 
 the society of a young and pretty woman : he saw that her mind 
 was too sensible and too much superior to the frivolities of life, to 
 require the offerings of flattery ; and literary subjects had in- 
 variably furnished them with topics. De Rosann was, therefore, 
 quite innocent of any attempt to engage the affections of a heart 
 whose love he could not return ; and while he felt that no levity on 
 his side had given Selina the slightest encouragement or hope, he 
 could not help commiserating the luckless maiden from the bottom 
 of his soul, and of breathing fervent prayers that he might be mis- 
 taken. At the same time he knew that Love is a tyrant, and not 
 a s l av e — a master, and not a menial. It is the magic power whose 
 enchantments can cast chains around the hearts of princes, poten- 
 tates, and nobles — whose influence is universally felt, and seldom 
 dared — and whose entrance into the human breast is as often 
 effected by degrees as with precipitation. Love tames the pride of 
 the warrior — makes the mighty monarch bow the knee — and visits 
 the lordly palace or the humble cottage at will. Bolts — bars — walls 
 — and ramparts, may keep at bay every thing but Love ! 
 
 When De Rosann returned to the hotel, he found two letters lying 
 on his table. The first was from Mr. Clayton. It was in answer to 
 the one Alfred had written to him the day of his arrival in London ; 
 and it expressed the worthy uncle's surprise at so sudden a change 
 in the youth's resolution of proceeding to Paris. It was. however, 
 full of protestations of friendship, and of hope. Mr. Clayton said 
 that Eloise was in good health, and desired to be most kindly 
 remembered ; and that if De Rosann did not soon return to France, 
 he would allow her to write a few lines in his next letter. Our 
 hero was overjoyed at these favourable tidings ; and he almost 
 forgot the second despatch, that lay unopened upon the table, in 
 
158 ALFRED; OR ADVENTURES 
 
 the wiidness of his delight. At length his eye caught sight of the 
 neglected epistle, the contents of which ran as follow : — 
 
 " I understand you have effected your escape, and that you 
 are in London, despite of my injunctions to persuade you to return 
 straight to this city. Fortunately your disobedience of orders 
 which unseen powers spoke through the medium of my lips, has 
 not as yet prejudiced you in the favour of your superiors and mine. 
 But you must not desert the cause you have embarked in ; you 
 must be watchful and vigilant, awaiting the moment when your 
 services will be required. 
 
 " These words may probably arouse your conjectures as to the 
 nature of the service alluded to, and the means whereby you are to 
 discover the arrival of the exact period at which you will be called 
 upon to act. With regard to the former, I am myself unable to 
 draw away the mystic veil that covers gigantic resources and de- 
 signs : with regard to the latter, you must continually reside in 
 Paris, and time itself will teach you how to act, and show what 
 duties you are destined to perform. 
 
 " The authorities of the Chancelleries were dreadfully enraged at 
 your escape from the galleys, because your sentence had been so 
 indulgently commuted by the merciful disposition, as they ex- 
 pressed themselves, of the reigning monarch. A price has been set 
 upon your capture ; every town in France has received, or will 
 shortly receive, the description of your person ; and the Gendarmes 
 will consequently be upon the alert. But you are protected by the 
 all-seeing powers that commanded me to provide you with your 
 passport, and to arrange with our agent, Plombier, for your flight : 
 and most sincerely do I hope that you will eventually justify the 
 expectations of those who deemed you worthy to be rescued from a 
 lingering imprisonment. For, notwithstanding the severity of the 
 measures which the Minister of Justice instituted against you, the 
 moment your escape was reported at the Chancellerie — notwith- 
 standing the reward set upon your capture, your pardon — full un- 
 conditional pardon will be signed in a short time. The same hand 
 that controls the signature of the Prefect of Police, can direct the 
 pen of Charles the Tenth. 
 
 " You have already received sufficient proofs of the capabilities 
 of the hitherto invisible powers whom you must eventually serve — 
 you ought to be convinced that they are generous towards their 
 adherents — then listen to the counsel of their agent, who speaks for 
 them. Remain in England until you receive your pardon, signed 
 and sealed by the royal hand ; the delay may be a week — but it 
 shall not exceed a month : then hasten to Paris, and enquire for 
 me according to thj instructions I gave you and Belle-Rose in the 
 gaol at Verneuil. 1 await your reply ; that I may know whether 
 to enclose your pardon to London or not, as soon as it shall be 
 
 * The abode and offices of the Minister of Justice. 
 
OF A FRENCH GENTLEMAN. 159 
 
 ?b*aiiied. Your obedience to the wishes of your benefactors lb a 
 condition of your receiving the promised indulgence. 
 
 fi Rue de la Channoinesse, li Your well-wisher. 
 
 41 Paris, June, 1830. " A. Leblond." 
 
 This letter troubled and pleased De Rosann at the same time. 
 The hope of procuring a full pardon was the most important object 
 of his wishes next to the desire of possessing Eloise. He loved his 
 native France as dearly and as enthusiastically as a William Wal- 
 lace or a Tell could have adored, the one the Highlands of Scot- 
 land, the other the Canton of Uri ; and his heart leapt at the idea 
 of being shortly able to tread his parent soil a free-man once again 
 — unshackled by ignominious bonds — unaccused of damnable 
 frauds — fearless of being recaptured and conducted to a gaol. But, 
 in order to obtain that unconditional pardon — in order to regain 
 his forfeited rights as a citizen of Fiance, and to return to its shores 
 as the free-man he was desirous of becoming — he must succumb to a 
 hard condition, and linger idly in a land which he did not love, and 
 whence he was anxious to depart. He had visited England for the 
 purpose of ascertaining if the property of the late Marquis dc 
 Denneville still remained at the disposition of an heir — and he not 
 only felt it his duty to place the documents, which alone could 
 recover that property, in the hands of their rightful owner, and 
 thus secure to himself the pleasure of fulfilling a sacred trust re- 
 posed in him by something more than chance ; but he was anxious 
 so to do for other reasons that savoured of an interested and selfish 
 nature. It was true he could effect the same purpose by means of 
 epistolary communication : but he had so fondly calculated upon 
 being the bearer 01 such important tidings as the recovery of a con- 
 siderable sum of money to a person who deemed it lost for ever, 
 that he would have shed tears to resign the joy he thus anticipated 
 with such pure and fervent delight. And surely, after all the trouble 
 and labour he had undergone in terminating the affair so promptly 
 and so judiciously, the reward he promised himself cannot appear 
 too exorbitant. 
 
 It was in vain that the perplexed mind of our hero sought to 
 reason calmly on both sides of the question, and to arrive at some 
 conclusion relative to the importance he ought to attach to Le- 
 blond's letter. If he waited to obtain his pardon, he would cer- 
 tainly have a better claim on the indulgence of Mrs. Clayton, 
 when he should implore her to forget the past — although he had 
 no occasion to blush for his misfortunes — and should solicit her to 
 receive him as a son-in-law. By remaining in London he was 
 moreover certain of securing a continuation of that unsolicited 
 favour which had already done him essential service, and which 
 promised a permanence of its good feelings and protection towards 
 him. He could, without materially offending against the laws of 
 propriety and rigid honour, retain the documents in his possession 
 a short time longer, and keep the heir ignorant of their existence 
 until his return to France ; and he might enclose Leblond's letter 
 to Mr. Clayton, as an apology for his prolonged absence. Were 
 
KiO ALFRED; OR ADVENTURES 
 
 the person who was entitled to inherit the fortune of the late 
 Marquis de Denneville, involved in the slightest difficulties, or 
 suffering on account of the want of those funds which he alone 
 could furnish the means to recover, his correct mind and honour- 
 able principles would not for one instant have suffered him to 
 withhold the papers ; but he knew that the heir w T as in affluence, 
 and in the midst of abundance, and had most probably ceased to 
 be anxious on a subject which a long and hitherto impervious 
 mystery had baffled all hopes of elucidating. 
 
 Urged by these reflections, De Rosann wrote a short letter to 
 Leblond, in which he declared a fixed intention of paying the 
 most implicit obedience to his directions, and thanked him for his 
 kind promise of procuring the royal pardon. Our hero concluded 
 by saying, that the moment Leblond chose to recal him to France, 
 in the name of his secret protectors, he was willing to follow their 
 directions, and should feel proud of an opportunity to demonstrate 
 his gratitude towards those who had already assisted him in the 
 midst of his embarrassments and disgrace. 
 
 De Rosann then replied to the friendly letter he had received 
 from Mr. Clayton. He enclosed the epistle Leblond had sent him 
 from Paris, and begged his excellent benefactor to believe, that if 
 it were not with the" hope of procuring his pardon, he should not 
 remain in England another moment. He did not, however, men- 
 tion one word relative to the documents he retained in his pos- 
 session ; but he merely said, that when they met he would explain 
 viva vice the motives that had originally induced him to change 
 the place of his destination fr ,m Paris to London so soon after 
 their conversation and agreement at the farm-house. He con- 
 cluded his letter with a hope that Mrs. Clayton mis:ht one day be 
 induced to award mm the hand of her daughter, particularly as he 
 should soon be able to return to France openly and fearlessly, and 
 not, as he left it, trembling at the sight of a police-officer, and 
 dreading to be arrested every moment. 
 
 Would the reader think of asking, even if we were sufficiently 
 careless to forget so important a fact, whether De Rosann availed 
 himself of Mr. Clayton's permission to write to Eloise on this 
 occasion as well as on the last, which we faithfully recorded in 
 a former chapter? Alfred did -not forget to address a letter to the 
 amiable being whom he adored ; and it was considerably longer 
 than the one directed to her uncle. But before he terminated his 
 epistle, he did not fail to inform Eloise of Mr. Clayton's promise, 
 that, if he remained in London, she should be allowed to write a 
 few lines to console him in return ; and he claimed at her hands 
 the fulfilment of a pledge made for her by her uncle. 
 
 When these letters were despatched to the post-office, the mind 
 of our hero felt eased of a considerable cause of anxiety ; and he 
 retired to rest that night with feelings of felicity such as he had 
 not ex oerienced for some time. 
 
OF A FRENCH GENTLEMAN. 1GI 
 
 CHAPTER XX III. 
 
 THE BALL. 
 
 It is most singular, how the most important events of our lives 
 spring from circumstances which the association with those episodes 
 in our daily destinies alone renders worthy of notice. The licen- 
 tiousness of an abandoned woman (according to the popular fable), 
 caused a disasterous war of ten years' duration, and the eventual 
 sack of a mighty city : the distaste of a Roman senator's daughter 
 for the rods of the lictors, originated the election of plebeian 
 instead of patrician consuls. On the mighty sea of life, the 
 smallest rock will occasion shipwreck — the slightest current cause 
 a deviation from a certain course — the most insignificant quick- 
 sand 'swallow up immense wealth — the appearance of a sudden 
 mirage wrecks the sanguine mariner upon the nearest peninsula. 
 And such are the destinies of man ! As he walks upon level ground, 
 a pebble may cause him to stumble : as he deviates from his habitual 
 path, a quagmire may await his unconsious steps ! 
 
 ( De Rosann was engaged to dine with Mr. Robson, and accompany 
 his family to Mrs. Wentworth's ball in the evening. On account 
 of a trifling difference between the clocks at the West End and 
 the one by which the household economy of the worthy banker's 
 spouse was regulated, our hero arrived a few minutes before six, 
 and happened to find Selina again alone in the drawing-room. He 
 would willingly have avoided the disagreeableness of a tete-a-tete 
 now that his mind entertained the idea of Selina's attachment to 
 him ; but it was impossible to combat against the decrees of fate, 
 or the embarrassments of chance ; and he endeavoured to assume 
 those easy manners, and the half-familiar, half-respectful style of 
 conversation, which he hoped would convince her that he con- 
 sidered her in the light of a friend, and simply as the daughter of 
 one to whom he was under obligations, and in whose family'he had 
 accidentally become intimate. But he could not help noticing the 
 pale countenance of Selina, and the confusion with which & she 
 received him ; for her delicate mind instantly suspected that Alfred 
 might imagine those interviews were purposely so arranged as to 
 take place in the absence of witnesses. It was therefore in vain 
 and fruitlessly she essayed to be cheerful ; her smiles were melan- 
 choly, her laughter was forced, and her gaiety was assumed. All 
 this did not escape the observation of our "hero. 
 
 " Had I not been engaged to dine with you this evening," said 
 Alfred, " I should nevertheless have done myself the pleasure of 
 calling." 
 
 " For a particular purpose again ?" asked Selina, playfully al- 
 luding to a portion of the conversation that took place between 
 them the day before. 
 
 21 
 
162 ALFRED; OR ADVENTURES 
 
 hi Precisely . I have procrastinated my departure." 
 
 «• For four-and-twenty hours?" inquired Selina, with a sigh. 
 
 ".Do you wish it was for no more?" cried De Rosann, care- 
 lessly : then recollecting that his words might probably awaken 
 disagreeable ideas, he hastened to add, " But, of course, that is a 
 matter of indifference to you. I shall not leave London at least 
 till the expiration of a fortnight, and perhaps not before the 17th 
 or 18th of July : the latter period is the more probable." 
 
 " Now, indeed, we shall have time to discover your faults," 
 cried Selina, while the joy that the news afforded her flashed in 
 her eyes, and revivificated a portion of the faded roses that had 
 nearly died upon her cheeks. «* Pray, does papa know of this 
 sudden change in your determinations — this new proof of a fickle 
 mind ? Ah ! how can men reproach us poor frail creatures with 
 vacillation and capriciousness, when they are not themselves more 
 constant to their purposes than 
 
 the shade 
 By the light quivering aspen made, 
 
 as our great poet and novelist of the north has expressed it !" 
 
 " A gallant man will reproach the fair sex for nothing, save its 
 cruelty and indifference to the sighs of its despairing admirers," 
 said De Rosann, with the common politeness of a Frenchman, who 
 seldom suffers an opportunity of paying a compliment to pass un- 
 heeded. But Alfred's reflections were wandering to othei matters 
 at the time, — he thought of his faithful Eloise, and uttered the 
 above words in a moment of absence, regardless of their import, 
 and forgetful of the manner in which they might be interpreted. 
 Selina was surprised to hear such a sentence issue from the lips of 
 De Rosann : he usually forbore to address an useless flattery to one 
 whose accomplished mind soared above those trifles ; and hitherto 
 their conversation had invariably turned upon subjects which, 
 being of a graver nature than the common-place topics of the 
 day, did not admit of the idle nothings and petites bagatelles usually 
 addressed by empty-headed young men to ?ain and conceited 
 women. Selina therefore attached a certain importance to the 
 reply that De Rosann had made to her defence of her own sex ; 
 and instantaneously cast a memorial glance over her conduct, to 
 ascertain if she had ever been guilty of the slightest indifference 
 towards our hero. Her rapid investigation was satisfactory to 
 herself on this head ; but it caused a sigh to agitate her bosom, 
 as she inwardly thought, " Alfred has never expressed himself in 
 such terms before : perhaps he begins to perceive that I am vain 
 and giddy, like the generality of my sex, and therefore intends to 
 offer me up the same incense of adulation that he and his contem- 
 poraries present to the coquettish and the proud." 
 
 De Rosann himself forgot the words he had so imprudently 
 uttered as soon as they had left his lips ; the image of Eloise was 
 uppermost in his mind, and for several seconds he did not appear 
 to recollect that he was in the society of another individual. At 
 length awaking from his transient reverie, before his absence had 
 amounted to actual rudeness, he hastened to renew the conversation. 
 
°F A FRRN'CH GENTLEMAN 1(53 
 
 '* I think you asked me, Miss Robson, if your father were aware 
 of my intention to remain in London a short time longer V* 
 
 " O, I dare say he is ; for if you were as important a personage 
 as Victor Hugo or Lamartine in disguise, and if you had entrusted 
 your secret to him, with injunctions to communicate it to his own 
 family only, he would follow the safer plan, and never divulge it 
 at all." 
 
 " The generality of men of business are thus cautious," observed 
 De Rosann : " but I assure you that he is not yet informed of this 
 change in my plans," 
 
 " Here he is to answer for himself," cried Selina. 
 
 " My dear friend," said Alfred, taking the banker's hand, 
 ** your daughter will not believe that you are as yet ignorant of 
 my resolution to trouble you a fortnight or a month longer with my 
 frequently repeated visits." 
 
 " Indeed ! I am heartily glad to hear that you do not leave us 
 so precipitately : at the same time I wish your departure was pro- 
 crastinated for a year rather than a month." 
 
 " Now you believe me, Miss Selina," said De Rosann, smiling. 
 
 " I never really doubted you," was the reply : and Selina blushed, 
 for she thought her answer was given in such a tone as to make 
 Alfred fancy that she intended to convey a more serious meaning, 
 and a promise of full reliance on his word and assurance on e\ery 
 other occasion. Our hero noticed the blush which painted her 
 cheek, and was obliged to confess within himself that his ideas 
 were not unfounded, and that Selina already experienced the 
 germination of a sincere but ill-starred affection. 
 
 The entrance of Mrs. and Mary Robson, and the speedy an- 
 nouncement of dinner, put an end to any farther conversation for 
 the moment: but it was easy to perceive that Selina was in much 
 better spirits than she had been during the last four-and-twenty 
 hours. 
 
 ' At nine o'clock the carriage drove up to the door, and De Rosann 
 assisted the ladies to ascend the steps. Mr. Robson pleaded urgent 
 business, that would occupy him ail the evening, as an excuse for 
 not accompanying them ; and De Rosann accordingly occupied his 
 seat. The worthy banker was himself no friend to balls ; he liked 
 them well enough for young people who could dance ; but he did 
 not think it becoming for an old married man to be seen at places 
 where youth and beauty were alone remarkable and recherche. 
 Cards were equally his abhorrence ; and on these occasions he was 
 never so much delighted as when he could prevail upon a friend 
 to take his place as chaperon to his family. 
 
 In twenty minutes the carriage stopped at a house in Jer- 
 myn-street. Alfred presented his hand to help the ladies in 
 their descent from the vehicle, and then offered his arm to Mrs. 
 Robson, while the two sisters followed close behind. They were 
 speedily introduced to the splendid salons of gaiety and light, 
 where the dancing had already commenced, and where the all- 
 attentive Mrs. Wentworth was busily occupied in receiving her 
 numerous visitors. To some she behaved distantly, but politely,— 
 
1G4 ALFRED; OR ADVENTURES 
 
 to others more familiarly, — to several she spoke a few words as 
 they passed on — and to a few she tendered two fingers of her right 
 hand. Mrs. Robson was honoured by this last mark of intimacy ; 
 De Rosann was presented in due form, and the Misses Robson 
 were addressed by the fashionable hostess as " her young friends, 
 Mary and Selina." When this ceremony was accomplished, De 
 Rosann conducted Mrs. Robson and her daughters to chairs at the 
 farther end of the room ; and having engaged the hand of Selina 
 for the next quadrille, he mingled with the gorgeously dressed 
 crowd, under the supposition that during the intervals between 
 each dance it was not customary to lounge near the seats occupied 
 by the ladies; such being the etiquette in his own country, whence, 
 with a few exceptions, issue to the rest of Europe all the laws of 
 politeness that control the society of the higher classes in their 
 fashionable reunions. 
 
 " How do you do, De Rosann IV cried a voice near him ; and 
 Avhen our hero turned round to reply to this familiar salutation, he 
 recognized Belle-Rose, with a quizzing-glass to his right eye, 
 staring most rudely at every lady who had any pretensions to 
 Deauty. He was dressed in the extreme of fashion, — a magnificent 
 gold clain hung round his neck, and was apparently attached to 
 as handsome a watch in his waistcoat pocket ; the glove was pur- 
 posely withdrawn from his right hand, to display the valuable rings 
 that glittered on his fingers, and his countenance was radiant with 
 joy and self-satisfaction. He was leaning on the arm of a young 
 Englishman, who spoke French with a horrible accent, and who 
 repeated the words " Monsieur le Comte" as often and as loudly as 
 he could, in every answer he gave to his companion's questions, or 
 every remark he spontaneously uttered himself. 
 
 De Rosann replied to the soi-disant Count's salutation with a 
 low and distant bow. His wishes w T ere understood ; Belle-Rose 
 did not care to trouble him any farther ; and the pressure of the 
 crowd, caused by the arrival of new guests, soon separated them 
 from each other's view. 
 
 " There is a man," thought our hero, in his own mind, " who 
 contrives to push himself into the fashionable circles of London, 
 by the aid of a little swaggering, a little effrontery, and a little 
 impudence." 
 
 In a quarter of an hour the music re-commenced, and De Rosann 
 sought his partner. Selina was dressed in virgin-white. Her hair 
 was unadorned save by a single rose, which resembled her raiment, 
 and a small wreath of pearls. Her neck-lace, her ear-rings, and 
 her bracelets, were also composed of those modest beads. Alfred 
 could not help regarding her with a look of admiration, and he 
 thought of Eloise as he gazed. The idea of how far more tran- 
 scendant was the loveliness of his own dear girl than the beauties 
 of Selina, caused a smile of satisfaction to play upon his coun- 
 tenance ; and the self-deluded young lady did not fail to notice it, 
 and appreciate its origin in her favour. Perhaps she fancied that 
 she was not indifferent to our hero ; peradventure her fond imagina- 
 tion deceived her with the hope that she had pleased him : at all 
 
OF A FRENCH GENTLEMAN. 165 
 
 events her features expressed a placid contentment and happiness. 
 De Rosann remarked the renovation of her spirits, and supposed 
 that his resolution to procrastinate his departure was the cause. 
 
 The gay quadrille commenced — " glanced the many twinkling 
 feet" of those engaged in threading its mazes — and the enlivening 
 sounds of the music fell joyously on every ear. Selina danced 
 with grace, but without affectation ; and her bewitching form was 
 the admiration of several idlers who stood near to witness the 
 evolutions of " Terpsichore's votaries." Amongst them our hero 
 recognized the two gentlemen who were present when La Motte 
 was exposed at Mr. Robson's table ; and as he returned their salu- 
 tation with a polite bow, he noticed that Mr. Jenkins had changed 
 his silver spectacles for gold ones on this occasion, and that Mr. 
 Goldsmith had added four new seals to the seven already pendant 
 to his watch-chain. The recollection of the extraordinary efforts 
 of their united imaginations at Mr. Robson's house called a smile 
 to his lips, and at the same moment his glances met those of Selina, 
 as she returned from completing the figure called en avant deux, 
 or Vete. Alas ! poor Selina — again she mistook the meaning of 
 that smile — again she appropriated it as an offering to herself — 
 again her heart felt light, her pride was gratified — and again she 
 was mistaken ! 
 
 It was not singular if Selina and De Rosann were the most 
 remarkable couple that graced the quadrille. The handsome per- 
 son of our hero, and the sylph-like form of his modest partner, 
 could not fail to attract attention. His coal-black hair was parted 
 above his forehead, with a species of " premeditated negligence" — 
 if the reader will excuse and condescend to appreciate the meaning 
 of the antithesis — which gave a peculiar expression to his coun- 
 tenance ; his dark eyes were brilliant amidst that glare of even 
 superfluous light ; his slender figure was set off to advantage by 
 the clothes which the prince of London tailors had fabricated. 
 Selina was nearly as tall as himself; her years were evidently but 
 two or three less than his own, and there appeared altogether a 
 certain harmony and fitness in the mere fact of these two beings 
 dancing together, that many a spectator inquired of his neighbour 
 if they were not lovers. That which was doubt at first became 
 magnified to certainty, when passed on with various amplifications 
 from one to another. At length the report reached the ears of 
 Belle-Rose, through the medium of his friend the Englishman; 
 and the self-styled Count, with his natural inclination to lying, 
 instantly declared that " his banker and intimate acquaintance, 
 Robson, had confided the secret of De Rosann and Selina's en- 
 gagement to him only the day before, when he went to draw for a 
 few hundreds ; that the happy couple were to be united on the first 
 of the following month, and that Robson had settled ten thousand 
 pounds upon his daughter." This news was speedily disse- 
 minated amongst the various acquaintances of the young English- 
 man on whose arm Belle-Rose was lounging ; and in half an hour 
 there was scarcely a single soul in the room that had not heard, 
 and did not believe the report, save our hero, Mrs. Robson, and 
 
166 ALFRED; OR ADVENTURES 
 
 her two daughters. Issuing from so respectable a source as the 
 Count d'Elsigny, and emanating from an authority so good as a 
 fellow-countryman of De Rosann — who for a moment would have 
 thought of doubting the assertion? 
 
 When both the Misses Robson were engaged in the second 
 
 quadrille, the gentlemen of the spectacles and the seals approached 
 
 the spouse of their friend the banker, and entered into conversation. 
 
 " M. De Rosann is here, I see," said Mr. Goldsmith, after some 
 
 common-place remarks. 
 
 " He was invited by the Colonel," returned Mrs. Robson. 
 " They dined in each other's company at our house a few days 
 ago ; and although the Colonel assisted Wellington — or rather the 
 Prussians— to beat the French, he does not dislike them indi- 
 vidually." 
 
 " M. De Rosann appears a very nice young man," observed 
 Mr. Jenkins, adjusting his spectacles. 
 
 " Of course, Mrs. Robson thinks so," added the other slyly. 
 " If such were not my opinion, I should scarcely suffer him to 
 associate with my daughters," returned the banker's wife. 
 
 " Very natural! very natural!" exclaimed Mr. Goldsmith, rat- 
 tling his seals: •' but I did not think Robson had any secrets from 
 an old friend." 
 
 " Secrets ! " cried Mrs. Robson. 
 
 " O yes !— we are not blind, you know, my dear madam," chimed 
 in Mr. Jenkins. " M. De Rosann is very good-looking, very gen- 
 teel, and clever, for any thing that I know. Miss Selina is pretty, 
 lady-like, and accomplished." 
 
 " I understand your allusion," said Mrs. Robson, somewhat 
 haughtily ; " but I can assure you that your suspicions are totally 
 unfounded; so much so," continued the worthy lady, "that 
 M. De Rosann himself purposes to leave London in three weeks 
 or a month." 
 
 " Hem ! " muttered he of the spectacles. 
 " Indeed ! " exclaimed he of the seals. 
 
 " Therefore, if you have communicated to any one your supposi- 
 tions, which are as groundless as your fanciful arrangement of the 
 scene that took place some evenings ago at our house — relative to 
 Lebrun, or La Motte, you know — " 
 
 " Ah ! there is my friend Lord Walter ! " cried Mr. Jenkins, 
 hastily bowing to Mrs. Robson, and mingling with the crowd. 
 
 " Allow me to fetch you a glass of lemonade, madam," ex- 
 claimed Mr. Goldsmith immediately after; and he disappeared 
 before Mrs. Robson had concluded her sentence. 
 
 The quadrille was now finished, and the Misses Robson were 
 handed to their chairs by the gentlemen with whom they had been 
 dancing. They were surprised to find their mother in an ill-humour, 
 and enquired the reason ; but she was too delicate to tell them the 
 real truth, and satisfied them by an innocent invention. De Rosann 
 interrupted the maternal evasion by a solicitation for the pleasure 
 of dancing another quadrille with Miss Selina. He did not invite 
 her sister, because she could not speak French, and it was useless 
 
OF A FRENCH GENTLEM XX. 167 
 
 for two people to stand like statues in the middle of a ball-room 
 The delicacy of his motives was fully appreciated, and when ex- 
 plained to Mary by Selina, was thanked by a smile. 
 
 The minds of the scandal-hunting and inquisitive were more 
 convinced than ever of the truth of the pervading report concern- 
 ing the engagement subsisting between our hero and Miss Selina 
 Robson, when they stood up to dance with each other a second 
 time. It did not enter into the recollection of a soul that a friend 
 could be thus twice honoured as well as a lover. Every indifferent 
 glance that De Rosann cast upon the mild countenance of Selina, 
 was noticed as a look of affection ; and every time he uttered a 
 word to his attentive partner, it was construed into a vow of ten- 
 derness and fidelity. 
 
 When the quadrille was concluded, T)e Rosann strolled into the 
 card-room, and approached the ccartc-tMe, round which a number 
 of young men were gathered to bet their sovereigns, or to witness 
 the" game. A thin long-visaged person was seated on one side of 
 the. table, and the young Englishman, who accompanied Belle- 
 Rose, was on the other. The name of the latter was Markham. 
 The stakes were high, and the anxiety of the players excessive. 
 Markham's opponent had already won considerable sums ; and his 
 success at this rubber appeared certain. Fortune, however, de- 
 cided against him, and Markham gained the last point with an 
 air of triumph. The other instantly left his seat, according to the 
 general usage of the game, and made way for any one who was ad- 
 venturous enough to occupy it. A sudden fancy seized hold of De 
 Rosann's mind ; and he instantly assumed the forsaken chair. No 
 sooner had he thus rashly sate down to play with a stranger, than 
 ne heartily repented, and would have given much to be able to 
 retire with decency ; for Belle-Rose drew near the table at the 
 same time, and, thrusting forward his head, desired Markham to 
 bet five sovereigns for him. 
 
 " Very well, my dear Count," cried his friend : " I hope I shall 
 not be the cause of your losing them. ,, 
 
 " Never fear," returned Belle-Rose ; and he placed himself at 
 the back of Markham's chair to assist him with his advice. 
 
 De Rosann laid ten pounds upon the cloth, and turned up the 
 king the first deal, besides making two points in addition to the 
 one thus secured. Markham appeared uneasy, particularly as he 
 had himself volunteered to cover half of the cash which our hero 
 had wagered, and he had not yet produced a shilling. 
 
 "Why do you not lay down your money?" enquired Belle- 
 Rose : " five sovereigns for yourself — and as much for me. If you 
 refuse to take up M. De Rosann's stakes, suffer some one else to 
 have the option, or not, as he chooses ?" 
 
 " There is no hurry," said Markham, evidently embarrassed : 
 " I am good for a paltry ten-pound note, I hope," he added with a 
 faint smile, while one or two gentlemen, that were looking on, 
 exchanged suspicious glances with each other. 
 
 De Rosann did not say a word, but pursued the game in a calm 
 and quiet manner. Five minutes decided it in his favour. 
 
1G8 ALFRED; OR ADVENTURES 
 
 " I owe you ten sovereigns, M. De Rosann," said Markham, a 
 deep blush overspreading his countenance. " Will you give me 
 my revenge ? " 
 
 " Certainly," answered our hero ; " if no one be desirous of 
 taking your place, which, according to the laws of the game, you 
 have forfeited." 
 
 a No — I am free to retain it, I fancy," returned Markham, 
 having glanced hastily round upon the spectators near the table : 
 " and"as I have a -twenty pound note in my pocket, we will put off 
 the settlement of gains or losses till the fate of the next rubber be 
 known." 
 
 " With pleasure," said our hero. " I shall leave the ten sove- 
 reigns I before staked on the board." 
 
 " You may advance another five for me, Markham," cried 
 Belle-Rose, once more thrusting forward his head, having that 
 evening expended a shilling's worth of Rowland's Macassar oil on 
 his curls. 
 
 " Very well, Count," replied the toady. " Then I have ten 
 sovereigns engaged once more, M. De Rosann " 
 
 " I will cover them," answered our hero calmly ; and he placed 
 the ten sovereigns he had already laid upon the table, in a heap. 
 
 "'Tis bad to play on credit/' said the knight of the spectacles to 
 his friend of the seals ; for these two gentlemen had been attentive 
 observers of the game ever since they left Mrs. Robson, the one to 
 seek his friend Lord Walter, and the other to procure a glass of 
 lemonade for the banker's spouse. But the former was totally 
 unacquainted with Lord Walter ; and Mrs. Robson never saw the 
 latter with the promised beverage. The reminiscence of their 
 foolish ideas about the drama, which they had seen at the Hay- 
 market and the Adelphi, were somewhat disagreeable chords to 
 touch upon. 
 
 " I hate credit : all debt is dishonest," said Mr. Goldsmith, in 
 answer to his friend's remark. 
 
 " And yet your tailor told me the other day that you owed him 
 five and thirty pounds," observed Mr. Jenkins. 
 
 " The same tailor who arrested you last Christmas, was it not?" 
 retorted he of the seals. 
 
 " Three to one," cried De Rosann ; and a solemn silence ensued 
 around the table. At the next deal our hero marked the king, and 
 threw down his cards, having the queen, knave, and ten in his 
 hand. 
 
 " Will you allow me to try my luck once more ? " enquired 
 Markham, fumbling in his pocket. 
 
 " I had rather not continue the game," answered Alfred : " and 
 I moreover see some one ready to take your place." 
 
 " Let us settle accounts, then— I owe you twenty pounds—ten 
 for myself, and ten for my friend, the Count,'' said Markham, 
 evidently disappointed at De Rosaun's refusal to retain his seat, 
 and still fumbling in his pocket. " Well— this is odd— I must 
 have left it at home — I could have sworn that I had it about 
 me — " 
 
OF A FBENCH GENTLEMAN. 169 
 
 De Rosann said nothing, out waited patiently for the other to 
 hand him over his money. 
 
 " This is most extraordinary," continued Markham, his face the 
 colour of scarlet— every eye being fixed upon him — and our hero's 
 tranquillity and silence appearing a mockery for the purpose of 
 increasing his embarrassment. " I must have left my money at 
 home : but the Count, of course, has his purse about him ; he drew 
 eight hundred pounds yesterday morning at Robson's. D'Elsigny 
 — where are you ? " but not even an echo answered "Where!" 
 The noble Count had disappeared the moment De Rosann threw 
 down his cards, and no reply was given to the voice of his friend. 
 
 " I am waiting, sir," said De Rosann coolly. 
 
 " Indeed I am sorry, M. De Rosann — very sorry — but I have 
 evidently left my purse at home. Will you favour me with your 
 address, that I may enclose you the amount the first thing in the 
 morning ? " 
 
 " And supposing you had won my money, Mr. Markham, you 
 would have taken it : therefore I have been playing against my 
 own interests." 
 
 " How — what ! " exclaimed Markham, delighted at having an 
 excuse to bully ; " do you mean to insinuate that you stand a 
 chance of loosing the few paltry pounds I owe you ? " 
 
 " I think that nothing is more probable," answered our hero 
 with the same imperturbable coolness. 
 
 " You are no gentleman ! " shouted Markham. 
 
 " And you are a sharper ! " returned Alfred gently : " but I do 
 not choose to disturb the tranquillity of this hospitable mansion — 
 our kind hosts must not regret the invitation they have vouchsafed 
 to me, at least ; there is my address, sir," continued De Rosann, 
 throwing a card upon the table ; "may I solicit your's?" 
 
 Markham hastily complied with our hero's request, or, rather, 
 command, and shortly after withdrew in the greatest possible con- 
 fusion ; while all admired and expressed their approbation of the 
 gentlemanly conduct of the young Frenchman. 
 
 But what had become of Belle-Rose ? The moment he saw that 
 his friend had lost the game, he gave his waistcoat-pocket one tap 
 with his fingers, to convince himself that it was empty, and sud- 
 denly made his escape from the ecarte -table. Arrived at the door 
 of the room set apart exclusively to dancing, he found the passage 
 barred by the ladies and gentlemen occupied in a quadrille ; and 
 all hopes of passing round, without treading on the toes of the old 
 dowagers and maiden aunts, who sate in solemn state against the 
 walls to witness the amusements of " the young people," were 
 totally vain. Belle-Rose was therefore obliged to wait at the door, 
 which formed the communication between the card-room and the 
 dancing-room, until the quadrille was finished. 
 
 In about a minute he felt his arm slightly pulled ; and turning 
 hastily round, saw himself confronted by a gentleman, whose nose 
 supported an immense pair of gold spectacles, and whose face he 
 recollected to have seen peering over the shoulders of the loiterers 
 round the card-table. 
 
 22 
 
170 ALFRED; OR ADVENTURES 
 
 " Monsieur le Comte" began our old acquaintance, Mr. Jenkins. 
 
 " What the devil would you have with me?" enquired Belle - 
 Rose in French, his voice being any thing but suave and dulcet at 
 the moment. 
 
 Mr. Jenkins gave no reply, but pointed to the card-table, and 
 made a sign with the fingers of his right hand in the out-stretched 
 palm of his left. Belle-Rose understood full-well the meaning of 
 the worthy gentlemen, and turned his back upon him with a look 
 of the most sovereign contempt, purposely placing the heel of his 
 shoe on the officious individual's toes at the same time. Mr. Jen- 
 kins gave a terrible start, and fell with such violence against his 
 friend of the seals, who was endeavouring to force a passage 
 through the crowd at the door, that the watch-chain and its appen- 
 dages rattled like pebbles against a window. When their con- 
 fusion, into which this sudden shock had thrown them, was some- 
 what abated, Mr. Jenkins looked around to discover Belle-Rose. 
 But the music had ceased — the quadrille was concluded — and the 
 soi-disant Count had taken advantage of the momentary bustle to 
 make his escape. Arrived in the hall, a footman in gorgeous 
 livery demanded of the retiring guest whether he had brought a 
 cloak or great-coat with him ; and as the eye of Belle-Rose fell at 
 the same instant upon a magnificent mantle lined with sables, he 
 replied in the affimative, although he had no real claim to the said 
 garment. After a proper delay in pretending to search for his own 
 property, he unhooked the splendid mantle that had before at- 
 tracted his attention; and having cast it negligently on his left 
 shoulder, he placed half-a-crown in the footman's hand, and 
 quitted the house, totally reckless of what might become of his 
 friend Markham. 
 
 When De Rosann rejoined Mrs. Robson and her daughters, he 
 found them all three extremely anxious on his account — particularly 
 Selina, in whose eye glistened a tear. The report of his quarrel 
 with Markham, and the certainty of a duel, had reached their ears ; 
 but the particulars of the tale were entirely in favour of our hero ; 
 and while his friends deplored the disagreeable occurrence, they 
 could not help admiring his noble conduct and manly courage. 
 
 " I hope the dispute will lead to no desperate result," said Selina 
 in a low voice, that was almost choked with an internal emotion 
 which she vainly endeavoured to conceal. 
 
 " The person with whom I had a few words," answered De 
 Rosann, " is most probably a coward ; and I suspect that there is 
 but little chance of his seeking an honourable satisfaction. ,r 
 
 " You wish to make the matter appear more trifling than it 
 really is," continued Selina : " I am, however, certain it is serious 
 — and I implore you, M. De Rosann — if you have any regard — " 
 
 Selina stopped short in the middle of her sentence ; and when 
 she raised her eyes to De Rosann's countenance, she saw that he 
 was gazing on her in astonishment. An unpleasant impression was 
 immediately conveyed to her mind. She thought that if he felt 
 the slightest interest in her welfare, or that if he knew she was 
 attached to him, he would not have looked at her with wonder. 
 
OF A FRENCH GENTLEMAN. 1?1 
 
 Dut with gratituae and dehgnt, as sne was aDout to implore him not 
 to dare danger, nor be induced to combat against a common 
 swindler. Alfred noticed that the excitement, which had marked 
 the commencement of her supplication, verged into a melancholy 
 expression that betrayed an inward sorrow returning with reflec- 
 tion ; and he endeavoured to direct the conversation to other 
 subjects. All his attempts were, however, unavailing ; Selina 
 perpetually referred to the probability of a duel ; and would only 
 abandon the subject when De Rosann assured her that no such 
 fatal result was to be anticipated. 
 
 It was not until four o'clock in the morning that he retired to 
 his couch, where his eyes were soon closed in slumber ; and while 
 he dreamt of his faithful Eloise so far away from him in another 
 clime, he wist not that a young heart was filled with his image, 
 and that he was the innocent cause of pain to the unfortunate 
 victim of a love whose increasing fervor experienced no return. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 THE RESULT. 
 
 De Rosann did not awake till a late hour; and some minutes 
 elapsed ere he could compose his ideas, so as to review his conduct 
 of the preceding evening. The certainty that he had made a deep 
 impression upon the heart of the too sensitive Selina, was a subject 
 of much more grief to our hero than the probability of being 
 shortly obliged to risk his life in a duel. His generous disposition 
 could not do otherwise than sincerely commiserate the situation of 
 the unfortunate girl, and deeply deplore her misplaced affections. 
 He therefore made up his mind to seek an explanation with her as 
 speedily as possible. That explanation he might readily bring 
 about by hinting at his attachment to Eloise — a circumstance as 
 yet unrevealed even to Mr. Robson ; and, in case the reader should 
 marvel at this silence and reserve towards so excellent a friend, let 
 us hasten to apologize for our hero. He had retained his love- 
 affair in his own breast, fearful that if Mrs. Clayton should acci- 
 dentally have occasion to correspond with Mr. Robson, the circum- 
 stance might reach her ears; and De Rosann knew she would 
 naturally be offended at his presumption in declaring he was 
 destined to receive the hand of Eloise, when the mother so posi- 
 tively refused to listen to his suit in favour of her daughter. He 
 now repented of this excess of delicacy ; he reproached himself for 
 not having merely hinted, a few days ago, that his heart was de- 
 voted to another ; and he made up his mind to repair, as quickly 
 as he could, the incipient injury already done. 
 
 With regard to his quarrel, we have before stated that he did not 
 suffer it to annoy him. He possessed the daring and reckless 
 courage of a Frenchman ; he did not trouble himself about the ] os 
 
172 ALFRED; OR ADVENTURES 
 
 sibility of being killed, or, perhaps, mutilated for life ; and when 
 the recollection intruded itself upon his memory, he dismissed it 
 with an expression of contempt, to the effect, " that it was a baga- 
 telle unworthy of consideration." It is in this particular point that 
 the Frenchman differs so materially from the Englishman ; not 
 that the discrepancy consists in the courage of the one, and the 
 cowardice of the other, because such an assertion would be ridi- 
 culous and false in the extreme. An Englishman is as brave as a 
 Frenchman; but the valour of the former is mingled with caution 
 and prudence ; and the dauntlessness of the latter is blind, and 
 indifferent to consequences. Thus was it, that often on the field of 
 battle the magnanimity and lion-daring of the sons of Gaul were 
 rendered unavailing, and necessitated to succumb, by the cool 
 and calculating courage of those who fought under the British 
 standard. The Frenchman is all vivacity and rashness ; he is like 
 the mettled steed that hears the bugle of the huntsman and the 
 howling of the dogs ; he often experiences defeat and disgrace, by 
 aiming at impossibilities in a moment of excitement : he rushes 
 headlong upon the bayonet, and does not wait to wrest it from the 
 enemy's grasp. 
 
 While De Rosann was seated at his breakfast-table, he was sur- 
 prised by a visit from Mr. Robson. 
 
 " I have just been informed of your dispute last night with a 
 Mr. Markham/' said the worthy banker, panting for breath, and 
 throwing himself upon a chair ; " and I hastened to ascertain the 
 particulars. Is it likely that you will hear any more of the indi- 
 vidual, who, according'to the account Selina gave me, is nothing 
 more than a common swindler or adventurer." 
 
 " I am doubtful," returned De Rosann carelessly. " But how is 
 your family after the fatigues of the ball ?" 
 
 " The devil take the ball ! " cried Mr. Robson. " You seem to 
 think as much of a \ery— very serious matter, as I do of the greatest 
 trifle." 
 
 " Do you allude to the probability of a duel ?" asked De Rosann, 
 sipping his chocolate with the most ineffable sang-froid. 
 
 " Certainly, my young friend ; in England, it is not customary to 
 regard life as an object without value. Existence bears a high 
 per-centage amongst us." 
 
 " If you wish me to reflect for one moment upon the matter," 
 said Alfred, assuming a grave look to oblige the good-natured 
 banker, who was exceedingly anxious on his friend's account, "I 
 must obey you; and the result of my rumination will be, that if 
 Mr. Markham can possibly muster the money to pay me, he w?ll 
 also find the courage to fight. He has a reputation at stake ; and 
 a duel would restore him to public favour." 
 
 " In that case, my clear Rosann, I must find you a second," cried 
 Mr. Robson : "but I hope to God that Markham, or whatever his 
 name may be, will look in vain for the cash. You know I would 
 myself willingly act as your friend on such an occasion — but a 
 banker, and the father of a family — not a young man either — " 
 " Do not think of offering an apology," interrupted our hero. 
 
OF A FRENCH GENTLEMAN. 173 
 
 %i Should 1 require a second, you will procure me one — and that is 
 sufficient." 
 
 " Adieu, then, for the present : I must return to my counting- 
 house, which I never quit of a morning, save on urgent occasions. 
 
 Mr. Robson had not left the room five minutes, when one of the 
 waiters entered, and informed De Rosann that the Count d'Elsigny 
 desired to speak to him on very particular business. Our hero 
 ordered the servant to show the Count to his apartment ; and in a 
 moment Belle-Rose swaggered into the room. 
 
 " My dear Rosann," said he, wiping the perspiration from his 
 forehead with a perfumed cambric handkerchief, " I am come 
 upon a pleasant little affair, which will doubtless afford four people 
 an excellent morning's amusement." 
 
 " I already divine the vicarious object of your visit," returned 
 De Rosann coolly ; " and beg you will hasten to apprise me if I be 
 
 ight. 
 
 " In the first place, Markham has sent you the twenty pounds," 
 continued Belle-Rose, laying the money upon the table ; " and as 
 I have expended every farthing of the cash for which I sold the 
 papers to you, or to Mr. Robson, I should be very much obliged if 
 you would lend me these paltry bank-notes till I can repay you. 
 Remember, I have religiously preserved our secret, my dear De 
 Rosann." 
 
 " Keep the money, in God's name," exclaimed our hero ; " and 
 do not make a merit of having refrained from divulging that which 
 would ruin your speculations, as well as injure me, perhaps, in the 
 opinion of my friends, who, unfortunately, are not free from the 
 usually-prevailing prejudices." 
 
 " I like your harangue very much, De Rosann," said Belle- 
 Rose ; " and I do not hesitate to thank you for the cash. By the 
 by, do you not think I am an essential ornament to a ball-room, 
 and a fit representative of the noblesse of our nation? " 
 
 " Be so kind as to come to the point ; I am in a hurry to go out 
 for an hour or two, and have no time to waste in idle conversa- 
 tion." 
 
 " Three words, then," cried Belle-Rose, starting up, and running 
 his fingers through locks teeming with pomatum, or bears'-grease : 
 " to-morrow morning at six o'clock — pistols, of course — St. John's 
 Wood — near the Regent's Park — each with one friend — we will 
 take the surgeon." 
 
 " Agreed ! " ejaculated De Rosann ; and Belle-Rose withdrew, 
 much to our hero's satisfaction. 
 
 The only preparation that De Rosann made, was to enclose the 
 papers of the late Marquess de Deneville in an envelope, which he 
 carefully sealed, and directed to Mr. Clayton. He then wrote 
 instructions to that gentleman, explaining the nature of the docu- 
 ments, and the manner in which they fell into his hands at the 
 farm-house of Louis Dorval : and he enclosed a letter for Eloise, 
 wherein he expressed the unchanged and fervent love he bore her, 
 and his sincere hope that she might still be happy in her choice of 
 a husband to become her legal protector and the partner of her 
 
1 ' ^ ALFRED ; OR ADVENTURES 
 
 fortunes. These epistles were to be forwarded, with tlie deeds, to 
 their proper destination, in case of Alfred's fall. 
 
 Having thus arranged his affairs, our hero hastened to Thread- 
 needle-street, and informed Mr. Robson of all that had passed since 
 they separated an hour or two before. The kind-hearted banker 
 couid not conceal his agitation and alarm at the danger to which 
 De Rosann was exposed : he however promised to call upon him 
 early the following morning with a friend, and hinted that it would 
 be better not to inform the ladies of the anticipated meeting. De 
 Rosann perfectly acquiesced in Mr. Robson's opinion, and did not 
 even throw himself in the way of a multiplicity of enquiries, which 
 would doubtless have taken place, had he proceeded to the drawing- 
 room to pay his respects to Mrs. Robson and her daughters. 
 
 In the mean time Selina suffered the most excruciating torments: 
 and her internal agony was the more acute, because she was 
 obliged to conceal it from the observation of her mother and sister. 
 Hour after hour passed away, and De Rosann did not make his 
 appearance as usual. Her agitated mind instantly pictured an 
 exaggeration of all the most horrible results that could possibly 
 have ensued from a duel ; for she was perfectly convinced, that 
 the dispute would end in a hostile meeting. She fancied she saw 
 Alfred bleeding, pale, and dying on the fatal plain : then she 
 thought, that perhaps he was already gone to another world, and 
 that his heart was pierced with a deadly weapon. Never was 
 suspense so terrible, till the hour of dinner brought her father from 
 his office ; and in a trembling voice she enquired, if he had seen 
 M. De Rosann ? The banker answered in the affirmative, adding, 
 that the quarrel with Mr. Markham would most probably lead to 
 no disagreeable consequences, and that particular business alone 
 prevented our hero from calling on Mrs. and the Misses Robson 
 in the course of the day. Selina felt somewhat relieved by these 
 assurances ; but she still saw the probability of a duel, and in vain 
 essayed to banish her unpleasant ideas entirely from her imagin- 
 ation. 
 
 As early as five o'clock on the following morning, did Mr. Rob- 
 son knock at the door of De Rosann's bed-chamber. Our hero was 
 already dressed, and about to sit down to breakfast. He welcomed 
 the banker with the utmost cordiality, and was surprised to see 
 that no one accompanied him. But before he had time to enquire 
 the reason, a gentleman made his appearance at the top of the stairs, 
 and was instantly recognised by Mr. Robson, as the intended 
 second. He was accordingly introduced to De Rosann, to whom 
 he expressed his sorrow, at acquiring the honour of Alfred's 
 acquaintance, under circumstances so peculiarly disagreeable ; he 
 however declared his willingness to assist our hero to the utmost 
 of his ability, as a hostile meeting was apparently unavoidable. 
 Mr. Herbert — for that was the gentleman's name — spoke French 
 with tolerable fluency ; and it was chiefly on this account that he had 
 been requested by Mr. Robson to act as De Rosann's friend on 
 the occasion. 
 
 To the astonishment of both the banker and Mr. Herbert, neither 
 
OF A FRENCH GENTLEMAN. l7o 
 
 of whom could touch a morsel, De Ilosaun ate with a prodigious 
 appetite ; and when Mr. Robson was no longer able to contain his 
 astonishment at such an extraordinary instance of sang froid, the 
 young man coolly observed, " that he did not dare venture to 
 encounter the chilly atmosphere with an empty stomach." A 
 smile of satisfaction played upon the countenance of Mr. Herbert, 
 as our hero made this remark ; for he could not help feeling a 
 momentary pride in the courage of his principal. 
 
 " This is your first affair of honour/' said the banker, addressing 
 his youthful friend, and vainly endeavouring to swallow a piece of 
 toast. 
 
 " My first, and perhaps my last," answered De Rosann, attack- 
 ing the breast of a cold fowl, which he had already despoiled of 
 its wings. 
 
 " The idea does not rob you of your appetite," remarked Mr. 
 Herbert. " I was engaged as second to a noble lord about six 
 weeks ago," he continued ; '* and while I took a cup of tea at the 
 breakfast table, he -walked up and down the room in the greatest 
 possible agitation." 
 
 " I do not wonder at his emotion," cried the banker, scarcely 
 able to repress a shudder. 
 
 " And perhaps he was not a coward after all," said De Rosann, 
 helping himself to some cold pigeon-pie and a huge slice of bread. 
 
 " No — on the contrary," returned Mr. Herbert, " when we 
 arrived upon the ground, he was as cool as I am at this moment. 
 He fought with a German baron— 'twas at Wormwood Scrubs — " 
 
 " And what was the result ?" enquired the banker, for the sake 
 of saying something, while his limbs shivered, and his heart palpi- 
 tated violently, as if he himself were one of the principals. 
 
 "The German was wounded in the leg, and has been lame ever 
 since," answered Mr. Herbert, forgetting that this information 
 could not sound very consolatory to the ears of a nervous person, 
 about to engage in an affair of honour. 
 
 " He was pointed out to me the night before last, at Mrs. Went- 
 worth's ball," remarked De Rosann, as he commenced a second 
 attack on the pigeon pie, to the astonishment of Mr. Robson. 
 
 " Allow me to inform you, that we have not ten minutes to 
 spare, M. De Rosann," cried his second ; " I always like to be 
 punctual, even if I and my principal be not the first on the 
 ground." 
 
 " I shall wait for you here — and God preserve you, my dear 
 boy," exclaimed Robson, wiping away a tear. " Now go — I need 
 not tell you to keep up your spirits — and once more, may God 
 bless you !" 
 
 De Rosann endeavoured to console the excellent old man, 
 by assurances of there being but little danger ; and having suc- 
 ceeded in restoring him to partial tranquillity, he followed Herbert 
 down stairs, and jumped into the cabriolet that waited for him at 
 the door. 
 
 Markham and Belle-Rose had already arrived at the place of 
 destination, when our hero and his second descended from the 
 
176 ALFRED; OR ADVENTURES 
 
 vehicle in the immediate vicinity of the appointed spot. Mr. Her- 
 bert and the self-styled Count d'Elsigny, proceeded to charge the 
 pistols forthwith ; while De Rosann watched the motions of his 
 antagonist, whose face was ashy pale, and whose uneven steps, as 
 he paced up and down the ground, betokened anything save self- 
 possession and composure. He was evidently annoyed that the 
 two seconds did not endeavour to arrange the matter amicably ; 
 but he dared not interfere in their proceedings, nor retract from 
 ihe challenge he had somewhat rashly given. 
 
 When Belle-Rose and Herbert had charged the pistols in each 
 others presence, they drew lots to decide by whom the ground 
 should be measured, and the signal given. Chance pronounced in 
 favour of Belle-Rose ; and he instantly commenced his duties : but 
 he took such uncommonly small paces, when employed in tracing 
 the distance which was to intervene between the spots occupied by 
 the hostile parties, that Markham could with difficulty conceal his 
 terror. De Rosann merely smiled at the friendly conduct of his 
 ancient companion, and received the pistol from the hand of Mr. 
 Herbert, as if it were a handsome present, tendered on a more jovial 
 occasion. Not that there was anything cruel, or blood-thirsty in 
 the calmness of our hero ; his composure was purely the courageous 
 indifference of a brave man, who does not fear to meet death face 
 to face. 
 
 De Rosann and Markham now took their proper stations, and 
 Belle-Rose stood at a little distance, making the third point of an 
 imaginary right-angled triangle, of which the antagonists were the 
 remaining two. And now all was ready — the foemen confronted 
 each other — Belle-Rose enquired in a loud voice if they were pre- 
 pared — both answered in the affirmative, one boldly, the other 
 tremulously — and the handkerchief fell to the ground. The shots 
 were fired almost at the same instant — and neither De Rosann nor 
 Markham were touched. After a lengthened discussion between 
 the seconds, the pistols were charged again, and presented to the 
 combatants. Markham declared in a whisper to Belle-Rose, that 
 he was satisfied, and that he did not wish to renew the combat. 
 But the soi-disant Count cut him short with an assurance, " that he 
 had too much regard for the honour of his principal to withdraw 
 him, before he had either killed his man, or was winged himself." 
 Markham ventured another remonstrance, and Belle-Rose declared 
 that he should either fight, or renounce his friendship for ever. 
 This assertion terminated the doubts and repugnance of the unfor- 
 tunate Markham ; and Herbert stepped forward with the handker- 
 chief in his hand, to occupy in his turn, the spot which Belle-Rose 
 had just left. The signal was given a second time, the pistols were 
 again levelled against two human beings by each other, the report 
 of the murderous weapons echoed loudly on the ear, and Markham 
 fell wounded to the ground. 
 
 The surgeon, who had waited at a little distance, and who had 
 attentively watched the progress of the duel, now rushed forward 
 like a vulture on his prey, and proceeded to examine the fallen 
 champion. The ball had grazed his right side, just above the hip 
 
OF A FRENCH GENTLEMAN. 177 
 
 out the wound was neither dangerous nor severe. De Rosann 
 assisted Belle-Rose and Herbert to convey him to th<* carriage in 
 which he had arrived ; and the surgeon walked by their side, "hold- 
 ing forth, in a very learned discourse, on what might have been the 
 results, if the ball had lodged in the sufferer's body. But as only 
 Mr. Herbert and the unfortunate sufferer himself understood the 
 language he spoke, the ehirurgeon's oration was not productive of 
 any wonderful effect. 
 
 When our hero and his second had thus done all they could to 
 aid the wounded man, they recommended him to the care of Belle- 
 Rose, and sought their own vehicle, to return to town. On their 
 arrival at the hotel, Mr. Robson, who had anxiously posted himself 
 at the window, during the last half-hour, and who began to think 
 the time very long, received De Rosann with open arms, and em- 
 braced him with such force, that Alfred was fain to cry out. Mr. 
 Herbert was obliged to submit to the same ceremony, for having 
 brought back the belligerent hero safe ; and, having made both second 
 and principal promise to dine with him that very afternoon, in 
 order to drink a glass of champagne to the victor's success, the 
 banker withdrew from the hotel, and returned to his own house, 
 where he found a comfortable breakfast awaiting his arrival. 
 
 Selina was the first to notice the air of satisfaction and joy, with 
 which her father entered the room ; and Mrs. Robson expressed her 
 curiosity, to know what particular business could have made him 
 quit his warm bed at so early an hour, 
 
 " Only a little affair, my love," cried the banker, rubbing his 
 nands together, and seating himself at the table. " It was not 
 exactly in my line, it is true: but a friend in such a predica- 
 ment — " 
 
 •• Lord ! Mr. Robson, how mysterious you are ! " exclaimed his 
 better half: " cannot you entrust us with your secret?" 
 
 " No secret, my dear — no secret, I assure you : 'tis all over now 
 — merely a meeting — " 
 
 " What ! of Williams the stockbroker's creditors at five o'clock 
 in the morning?" interrupted Mrs. Robson. 
 
 u Not at all : 'twas a meeting of a different nature," returned 
 the banker, who seemed delighted to keep his fair spouse in sus- 
 pense ; " a meeting at which you will never be, my love — a meet- 
 ing, in fine, between Messieurs Markham and De Rosann !" 
 
 " A duel!" cried Selina, her countenance becoming deadly pale, 
 and her bosom heaving a deep-drawn sigh. 
 
 " Our friend is safe, thank God !" continued the banker, helping 
 himself to a hot buttered roll and an egg. " He behaved nobly, I 
 understand — " 
 
 " You were not present, then, papa," said Mary. 
 " No, my love ; Mr. Herbert officiated as M. De Rosann's 
 second, and I remained at the hotel until their return. Markharu 
 was wounded in the ribs ; but Alfred is untouched." 
 
 " Thank God !" cried Selina, involuntarily, her pale features 
 becoming suddenly animated by an expression of joy, and then as 
 23 
 
1'8 ALFRED; OR ADVENTURES 
 
 rapidly suffused in blushes, when she noticed her mother and sister 
 regarding her with peculiar attention. 
 
 " One would think you were in love with M. De Rosann, Selina," 
 exclaimed Mary ; u you are so energetic in "your expressions of 
 gratitude to the Almighty for having spared him, and your coun- 
 tenance changed so often, an observer could not have helped 
 noticing your emotions." 
 
 " Sister," said Selina, calmly, " your remarks are unkind and 
 ungenerous to a degree. I know M. De Rosann much better than 
 you do, because my frequent visits to France with my father have 
 enabled me to acquire a knowledge of his language : and a heart 
 that is not made of iron cannot fail to feel rejoiced at the escape of 
 one who saved us all from ruin, by exposing the treachery of a pre- 
 tended friend." 
 
 " You speak like my own daughter, Selina !" cried Mr. Robson j 
 " and Mary was wrong to reproach you." 
 
 " Nay — my intention was not wilfully to wound your feelings, 
 dear sister ; I spoke with levity, it is true — but more in pleasantry 
 than in earnest." 
 
 " Let us drop the subject, Mary," said Selina, wiping away a 
 tear from her eye, while her mother began to think that the report 
 she had heard at the ball was not entirely void of foundation, and 
 that her younger daughter and De Rosann were really attached to 
 each other. She however determined to hold her peace for the 
 present, and watch their glances and their manners more particu 
 larly, ere she suffered her mind to form any decided opinion rela- 
 tive to the matter. 
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 THE PROSPECTUS. 
 
 The mind of Eloise experienced considerable relief when the 
 receipt of De Rosann's letters communicated the certainty of his 
 obtaining a full pardon at the hands of Charles the Tenth. Nor 
 less did her uncle feel the purest satisfaction, as he reflected that a 
 weighty* obstacle to the match would thus indubitably be removed 
 from the mind of his sister-in-law. The contents of Leblond's epistle 
 pleaded as an ample apology for our hero's stay in London, both 
 with Eloise and Mr. Clayton ; and although the former sighed 
 when she recollected how slowly slip away the weary hours when 
 separated from those we love, she could not avoid inwardly ap- 
 plauding Alfred's courage, in thus determining to support an 
 absence, which his honour rendered necessary, and which would 
 be productive of such favourable results. She looked forward to 
 the happy hours they might yet anticipate to pass in each other's 
 society ; and often — oh ! often did she press De Rosann's letter to 
 her lips, and to her bosom, when she retired to her bed-chamber 
 to peruse it. Mr. Clayton was delighted at the brightening pro- 
 spect which now animated the future j and he ceased to torment 
 
OP A FRENCH GENTLEMAN 
 
 179 
 
 his sister-in-law about her obstinacy, as he called it, in refusing 
 to give her sanction to that which, sooner or later, she would be 
 obliged to permit, if not approve. 
 
 De Rosann had begged Mr. Clayton and Eloise, in his letters to 
 them both, not to inform Mrs. Clayton of the promise of pardon 
 which he had received; and his wishes were strictly complied 
 with, although he gave no reason for the request, which never- 
 theless did not appear singular; as both Eloise and her uncle 
 divined the real truth the moment they perused their respective 
 epistles, and guessed that De Rosann was desirous of surprising 
 the conscientious mother, by producing his remission from all 
 punishment and all stigma/ when he should have obtained the 
 precious document, and when he returned to implore the now un- 
 relenting parent to accord him the hand of her daughter. Mrs. 
 Clayton was therefore kept entirely in the dark relative to these 
 proceedings. She however noticed the animated countenance of 
 Eloise, and perceived that the beauteous girl's spirits gradually 
 improved as the colour returned to her cheeks ; and she secretly 
 applauded herself for the firmness with which she had acted, 
 triumphantly observing to her brother-in-law at the same time, 
 that change of air and scene had not after all been without their 
 effect. 
 
 Mr. Clayton longed to drop a hint, that perhaps she was deceived 
 concerning the real cause of this change in her daughter's appear- 
 ance and manners ; but the entrance of Eloise, just as the first 
 word trembled on the tip of his tongue, made him check his im- 
 prudent spirit of communicativeness, or of contradiction, and put 
 an end to the conversation. 
 
 " Here is a strange-looking man, uncle, who desires to speak 
 with you," said Eloise, vainly endeavouring to suppress a smile. 
 " I think I have seen him before — but where I cannot recollect. 
 He is a Frenchman, fat, short, and red in the face." 
 
 " What is his business?" inquired Mr. Clayton. 
 
 " He insists upon seeing you ; that is all I can make him say," 
 returned Eloise. " The servant waits your answer." 
 
 " Let him come in, then," cried the uncle. 
 
 The visitor was accordingly desired to enter ; and Mr. Clayton 
 instantly recognised Champignon, " the best cook in Europe." 
 
 " Pray be seated, and acquaint me with your business," said 
 Mr. Clayton, rather sharply ; for the larder yet teemed with pates 
 de foie gras and cervelas sans ail* 
 
 <k I hope my presence is no intrusion," said Champignon, seating 
 himself on the edge of a chair, and drawing from his coat-pocket a 
 large roll of papers, which he laid upon the table : " but I recol- 
 lected that M. De Rosann appeared to be somewhat acquainted 
 with you," he continued, addressing Mr. Clayton, " if one might 
 judge from the way you walked together, as close as two pigeons 
 in a pie, or a couple of capons on a spit — " 
 
 * Bologna sausages without garlic. 
 
180 ALFRED; OR ADVENTURES 
 
 "Well, what then?" cried Mr. Clayton, impatiently, while 
 Eloise was ready to die of curiosity to know what the gastronomer 
 could want with De Rosann. 
 
 " I recollected your apparent intimacy together/' proceeded 
 Champignon ; " and having occasion to write to M. De Rosann, 
 I have ventured to trouble you for his address." 
 
 " And what the devil have you to say to M. Be Rosann?" 
 inquired Mr. Clayton, surveying the comical countenance of the 
 gastronomer with a severe glance, which so terrified the unfor- 
 tunate wretch, that he made a bound upon his chair, and missing 
 the edge fell heavily on the floor. This circumstance restored 
 Mr. Clayton to his usual good , humour ; and he said something 
 consolatory to poor Champignon to give him courage, while Eloise 
 offered him a glass of liqueur, which he accepted with many thanks, 
 de aring that it was almost as good as his own, and that he would 
 send up a bottle the moment he returned home. 
 
 " You asked me what I had to say to M. De Rosann," observed 
 Champignon, when he had swallowed the eau-de-vie de Dantzic, 
 and placed the glass upon the table : " I will tell you, since you 
 know how to treat me with the consideration due to my talents 
 and culinary acquirements. It has been a favourite idea of mine 
 for some time past, to establish a restaurant in every principal 
 town of France — " 
 
 " A mighty undertaking!" cried Mr. Clayton. 
 " Yes ; and for a mighty purpose, too," added the gastronomer. 
 " What is it ? I am very curious to be acquainted with your 
 schemes." 
 
 " For the purpose of serving up, in the only true and proper 
 manner, my newly invented dish — the cotelettes a la quadrille. To 
 attain this desirable end, I have caused a number of prospectuses 
 to be printed — " 
 
 " Not under your own name?' interrupted Mr. Clayton. 
 « No— certainly not; but under that of Citron, which I have 
 adopted, and which is painted over my shop. AncLas M. De Rosann 
 was kind to me on several occasions, I do not doubt but that he 
 will distribute these circulars amongst his friends," 
 
 " He is in England at this moment," said Mr. Clayton. 
 " So much the better!" cried Champignon: "perhaps he will 
 be able to obtain the consent of some rich bankers or merchants to 
 place their names on my list of shareholders." 
 
 »' It is a joint-stock company, then ?" observed Mr. Clayton. 
 " Precisely : and a very respectable list of names is already 
 down on the subscription-book," returned Champignon, taking 
 another roll of papers from his pocket. 
 
 " Have they all paid ? — for ready money is the essential." 
 " O no ; not yet. But I may have the cash when I choose to 
 write for it ; as they are every one in situations where coin is of no 
 use to them." 
 
 " They must be the King's ministers, at least, if that be the 
 case," thought Mr. Clayton, in his own mind. 
 
 " Pray cast your eye's over the list," said Champignon, handing 
 
OF A FRENCH GENTLEMAN. 1 81 
 
 several sheets of paper tacked together to Mr. Clayton, who, ac- 
 cording to the gastronomer's wish, read as follows : — 
 
 " Jean Beauvisage, chevalier, one share of five hundred francs. 
 Le General Trotte-mal, one share of a thousand francs. Le Baron 
 Feu-d'enfer, two shares of a hundred francs each. Le Comte 
 Pousse-pain, one share of five hnndred francs. Michel Cochon, 
 alias Leyer-de-main, five shares of a hundred francs each. Mathieu 
 Vilain, alias Le Beau, one share — but methinks, M. Champignon," 
 cried Mr. Clayton, interrupting himself in the midst of the list, 
 " that these names are somewhat singular; for instance, I see a 
 little lower down, Le Marquis de Bel-ceil, alias Louche, Le Due de 
 Gros Nez, M. Polisson, M. Doux-doux, surnamed Le Voleur, and 
 a host of other nomenclatures, half with high titles, and half with 
 extraordinary aliases." 
 
 " Ah ! ah ! you never would suspect the wit of that," cried 
 Champignon. 
 
 " How? What do you mean? Is it possible there is a French 
 duke named Gros Nez, or a French marquis called Bel-ceil, alias 
 Louche ? Noblemen never have aliases : and if the Chamber of 
 Peers be formed of individuals with such droll appellations, I 
 should think the president must indulge in an occasionally hearty 
 laugh when calling over their names. For instance, how singular 
 would it appear, did the Duke of Gros Nez rise and say, ' After 
 the excellent remarks that have just fallen from my friend the 
 Marquis of Bel-ceil, alias Louche, in answer to the misrepresenta- 
 tions made by the Baron Feu-d'Enfer, in reference to the amend- 
 ment which the Count Pousse-pain is desirous of making to the 
 bill,' &c. &c. It is impossible, M. Champignon, that such titles 
 can exist ! " 
 
 " If they do not exist in the Chamber of Peers, I have heard 
 them mentioned elsewhere," said Champignon, not at all discom- 
 fited by this attack on the veracity of his list. 
 
 u Where, in the name of God ?" cried Mr. Clayton. 
 
 " At the galleys," answered the gastronomer, drily. 
 
 " It was there you met M. De Rosann, I suppose," exclaimed 
 Mrs. Clayton, with a contemptuous sneer, while the unkind remark 
 cut Eloise to the soul. Mr. Clayton noticed the effect it produced 
 upon his niece, and hastened to get rid of Champignon, who had 
 commenced a long explanation relative to the kindness of the con- 
 victs in promising to become purchasers of shares, and the use he 
 made of these names and nick-names, some of which latter were 
 titles, to ornament his list. Mr. Clayton cut him short, by pro- 
 mising to send his prospectuses to De Rosann, and at length 
 succeeded in conducting him as far as the street, where the gas- 
 tronomer turned round, made two or three very low bows, and 
 took his leave of Mr. Clayton with a thousand thanks for his 
 kindness. 
 
 " Eloise, my love," said the kind uncle, when he had once more 
 returned to the drawing-room, ** I met this morning the interesting 
 girl that you so particularly admired as a songstress the other day, 
 and who sung Orlando's Song so sweetly. She was better dressed 
 
182 ALFRED; OR ADVENTURES 
 
 than before, and was walking with a middle-aged peasant, who 
 appeared to be her father. The sight of her put me in mind of the 
 happy times when you and De Rosann were accustomed to mingle 
 your voices together, and wile away many an hour with music." 
 
 " You do not think Eloise has renounced singing for ever, do 
 you, William ?" cried Mrs. Clayton somewhat angrily, as the name 
 of De Rosann invariably called forth some harsh expression from 
 Tier lips, although her usual manners were gentleness and benevo 
 lence in the extreme, and her ordinary behaviour towards her 
 daughter kind and affectionate. 
 
 "I hope not," said Mr. Clayton. " But, methinks, that the 
 harp and the piano have been sadly neglected lately." 
 
 " It is nearly a year since I touched either" murmured Eloise 
 with a sigh. " Once 1 was devoted to music, as I was attached to 
 drawing : but lately, the song has been neglected as much as the 
 pencil — and sorrow and grief, and meditation, have occupied the 
 time they usually employed." 
 
 These last words were said in a whisper ; but Mrs. Clayton 
 marked the cloud on her daughter's brow, and the tear in her eye, 
 and hastened to change the conversation. Mr. Clayton was, how- 
 ever, obstinate ; his mind could not be diverted from the topic that 
 suddenly interested it ; a sort of whim, or caprice, remained to be 
 gratified ; and he was not to be beaten off his track by the subter- 
 fuges of his sister-in-law, who vainly endeavoured to persuade him 
 to continue La Siege de la Rochelle — one of Madame de Genlis' 
 novels — which he was reading. 
 
 " I am in no humour to waste my time over a silly romance," 
 cried Mr. Clayton. " It seems as if a year had made a sad dif- 
 ference in our little pleasures and amusements. Eloise, my love — 
 do you think that you can recollect one of those sweet songs — " 
 
 " How obstinate you are, William !" interrupted Mrs. Clayton : 
 " you are perfectly aware that I desired Eloise to assist me in this 
 embroidery — and you still persist in attracting her attention to other 
 matters." 
 
 " Eloise can very well devote an hour to her uncle," said Mr. 
 Clayton, with an appealing glance to his beautiful niece. 
 
 " If you wish me to sing Le Portrait Charmant, or my old Eng- 
 lish ballad of the * Knights of Palestine' — which is so very long 
 and so tedious — my dear uncle, I will gladly oblige you : but per- 
 haps mamma is averse to music this afternoon." 
 
 " On the contrary, my dear child," exclaimed Mrs. Clayton : 
 " nothing would delight me more than to hear your sweet voice 
 joined to the harmony of one of your favourite instruments. I 
 merely combated your uncle's wishes for a moment, because I 
 fancied that you yourself were unwilling to indulge us with an air." 
 
 Eloise accordingly drew a chair towards her harp, ran her deli- 
 cate fingers lightly over the strings, then paused to recollect the 
 words of a song which she had never warbled since the day of her 
 lover's arrest under a terrible accusation ; and, having convinced 
 herself of the fidelity of her memory, she commenced the following 
 air: — 
 
OP A FRENCH GENTLEMAN. 1£3 
 
 LE PORTRAIT CHARMANT. 
 
 O beauteous counterpart of him I love. 
 
 Delightful pledge of tenderness to me, 
 
 Sent by thy lord, to say that I might prove 
 
 At least some solace in regarding thee ! 
 
 There are the features that I once admired, 
 - The tender look, and loftiness of air ; 
 And when I press thee to my bosom, fired 
 With hope, it seems as if himself were there. 
 
 But, oh ! thou hast not half thy master's charms, 
 
 Mute — passionless spectator of my woe : 
 The joys we tasted in each other's arms, 
 
 Rush to my mind, and bid the tear-drops flow. 
 
 Extenuate my language, if severe — 
 
 Forgive the wretchedness that fills my heart ; 
 
 And though thou dost but represent him here, 
 Ever in thee I find his counterpart. 
 
 " Your voice has not lost its harmony, my dear Eloise, nor your 
 memory its tenacity," cried Mr. Clayton, his countenance radiant 
 with satisfaction, as the last words of this pathetic strain died away 
 from his niece's lips. 
 
 " It is a sweet song, and exactly suited to your voice, Eloise," 
 added Mrs. Clayton with a smile expressive of contentment ; for 
 she fondly hoped that her daughter's sudden elevation of spirits 
 was to be attributed to change of air and scenery. 
 
 " Le Portrait Charmant" said Eloise, turning round her head 
 towards her mother without quitting her seat, " is supposed to have 
 been sung by Madame de Chateaubriand, when she received a 
 piece of money on which was stamped the head of Francis the 
 First." 
 
 " True ! " exclaimed Mr. Clayton. " And now, dear Eloise, as 
 you have retained your chair, do oblige me with your other 
 favourite song, as I am not certain of finding you in the same 
 musical humour to-morrow, and am therefore desirous of profiting 
 by the present occasion." 
 
 " If I were as miserable as possible, uncle," returned Eloise with 
 the amiable naivete so natural to an innocent maiden whose 
 thoughts and whose actions are alike as pure as the hymns of 
 cherubim, " I would always make an effort to please those I love :" 
 and having uttered these words, she turned once more towards her 
 harp, and sang the following singular air to the melody she ex- 
 tracted from the tightened cords of that delicious instrument. 
 
 THE KNIGHTS OF PALESTINE. 
 
 A LEGEND OF THE OLDEN TIME. 
 
 It was when the eventful day was done, 
 That witnessed the capture of Ascalon, 
 From the Moslem king by the Christians won, 
 Who fought for the shrine of the Virgin's Son ; 
 
184 Alfred; or adventures 
 
 And when Phoebus' course to the west had run, 
 And Cynthia's silent reign had begun, 
 That out of the camp, attended by none, 
 Towards the city walls rode an armed one. 
 
 He stopped at the castle-postern straight, 
 And tarried no moment to meditate, 
 But knocked full hard at the massive gate ; 
 Nor long was the time that he had to wait, 
 For a warder, appearing at the grate, 
 Demanded who thither might come so late ; 
 When the knight replied, that affairs of weight 
 Had brought him there with a need so great. 
 
 " Show me a sign, that I may obey, 
 
 Else never, Sir Knight, wilt thou pass this way : — 
 
 Such are the orders none gainsay." 
 
 " — Shame to thy hair — thy locks so gray, 
 
 If thou sendest me out in the night astray, 
 
 When the sickly beams of the moon scarce play 
 
 On the road where my journey back must lay." 
 
 " — Sir Knight, you will manage as best you may." 
 
 " — Of thy threats and thine orders all despite, 
 Will I enter the gates this very night ; 
 Though the door be guarded by every sprite 
 That avoids the earth in broad day-light, 
 And in darkness comes to mortal sight, 
 Against the legions of hell to fight, 
 Were to me but a pastime of delight, 
 Since it leads to Celestine," quoth the Knight. 
 
 Then the warrior turned to his charger there — 
 He seized his mace and raised it in air : — 
 The dint of its force he did not spare, 
 But to deal the blow his arm 'gan prepare ; — 
 And, in sooth, the axe was of weight full rare; 
 No delicate hand must that weapon bear : 
 It fell with a din made the warder aware 
 Of such warrior's prowess to have a care. 
 
 Loud thundered the mace — the door fell supine : — 
 
 " Well aimed was that blow," said the warrior, " of mine ! 
 
 Now to the bower of the fair Celestine ; — 
 
 This feat has well earned her beauties divine ; 
 
 And, maiden, I'm come to revel in thine ! 
 
 Shall such charms in a gloomy tower decline, 
 
 When thou may'st be led to the bridal shrine 
 
 By the bravest chieftain in Palestine ?" 
 
 The warrior he entered — the warder essayed 
 To stop his proceedings — he sighed — and he prayed ; 
 But in vain his appeal and petition he made ; 
 The Knight, so undaunted, could never be stayed 
 By even the words that a foeman had said ; 
 And his heart was now full of the beautiful maid 
 Whom Nature with every charm had arrayed ; — 
 So he turned from the warder, nothing dismayed. 
 
OF A FRENCH GENTLEMAN. JQ5 
 
 But as he was going to seek the tower 
 
 Where he knew Celestine slept in hower, 
 
 (For now 'twas already midnight hour) 
 
 A stately form, with an arm of power, 
 
 Seized on the Knight, whose brow 'gan lower, 
 
 And his eyes the fire of wrath to shower ; 
 
 But the other exclaimed, " Thou well may'st cower. 
 
 For thou ne'er shalt possess so lovely a flower. 
 
 " This day," he continued, " the Moslem in vain 
 
 His crescent against our red cross did sustain, * 
 
 And here I was sent these towers to maintain, 
 
 Should the Saracen Soldan rally again. 
 
 Wilt thou then arrive to disturb my reign, 
 
 And seek for my daughter, whom never a stain 
 
 Has sullied, to give me, her father, pain ? 
 
 For she is betrothed to Sir Alberic Fayne." 
 
 " — Little reck I for the happy one, 
 
 Nor thee, the governor of Ascalon, 
 
 Sent by the king when the siege was done, 
 
 And these walls by Richard's arms were won : — 
 
 But I will leave thee till morning's sun 
 
 To illumine our hemisphere has begun ; 
 
 And then, ere his mid-day course be run, 
 
 Will I combat with that ephemeron." 
 
 " — Sir Alberic Fayne will never fly, 
 Though thou art so stalwart an enemy ;" 
 ('Twas thus the governor gave reply :") 
 " But to-morrow's morn, if thou wilt try 
 The joust to decide your rivalry, 
 I swear by the Virgin, who rules on high, 
 That Celestine herself, with her beauteous eye, 
 Shall glance on the conqueror's victory." 
 
 The morning 's dawned, and the sun has lent 
 
 His rays to enliven the tournament ; 
 
 Then, with their eyes on each other bent, 
 
 And harnessed in steel with gilding blent, 
 
 Both the knights to their stations went, 
 
 And stood each before his own fair tent, 
 
 Till the signal bugle its warning sent, 
 
 When they charged, ere its latest sounds were spent. 
 
 Like falcon swift on an airy wing, 
 They met with echoes thundering : — 
 Their steeds the dust around them fling, 
 And the crowds, with voices murmuring, 
 Said they never had seen such chivalrous thing ; 
 For the lances broke at the sudden spring, 
 And Sir Alberic Fayne lay in the ring — 
 His victor was Richard himself — the King ! 
 
 The vanquished was raised from his state supine, 
 When Richard addressed the fair Celestine : — 
 " Never, too dear one, shalt thou be mine — 
 On him let your glances only shine ; 
 i 
 
186 ALFRED; OR ADVENTURES 
 
 He's worthy, I ween, of such bliss divine, 
 Since I, the victor of Palestine, 
 Forgetting the rank of thee and thine, 
 Were fain to have robbed thy virgin shrine. 
 
 " Thy father will tell thee, I came in the night, 
 Like a robber who shuns the glare of day-light ; 
 I came like a south wind on blossoms bright, 
 Fraught with intention to ravish and blight : — 
 But now, though I've conquered thine own true knight, 
 * Though I love thee, sweet maiden, as much as man might, 
 
 Still justice directs my heart aright, 
 And to-morrow thy bridal shall speed in our sight." 
 
 " Delightful !" cried Mr. Clayton, rising from his chair to im- 
 print a kiss on the chaste brow of Eloise, whom he loved with all 
 the tenderness usually manifested by a father towards a child. The 
 atniable girl expressed the gratification she experienced in having 
 pleased her uncle ; and the day passed away more happily than 
 any other since the fatal moment when Alfred was first accused of 
 a dreadful act of turpitude. Mrs. Clayton never demonstrated so 
 much affection, nor showed so many instances of sincere love 
 towards her innocent daughter before : and Eloise was half inclined 
 to throw herself on her mother's bosom, and confess her permanent 
 attachment to De Rosann, as well as the fact of their secret corres- 
 pondence, when she received the caresses of a parent from whom 
 she now withheld, for the first time in her life, the thoughts and 
 reflections of her secret soul. 
 
 But she happily called to mind the injunctions of her uncle ; and 
 satisfied her conscience with the conviction of acting under his 
 sanction and auspices. She knew that he would be the last person 
 in the world to mislead her— that his ideas of propriety would not 
 permit him to suffer his niece to violate, in the slightest degree, the 
 strict laws of decorum and female delicacy— and that he merely 
 .moderated by his indulgence the harsh decrees of her mother. 
 With these impressions, Eloise calmed her agitated mind, and 
 satisfied all her scruples, determining to follow her uncle's advice 
 in this matter, and her mother's in every other— a compromise at 
 which the most punctilious of our readers cannot express the 
 smallest disapprobation, inasmuch as parental solicitude cannot 
 alwavs discriminate clearly in affairs so particularly connected with 
 a child's present and future happiness. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVI. 
 
 A DEATH-BED. 
 
 "Your absence during a whole day is thus explained, M. De 
 Rosann," said Selina. 
 
 " And I have now given you a true and faithful account of the 
 affair," returned our hero. " I saw the surgeon, who attends 
 

 
 _// y /t r j //////.' j /://////////// 7t /- ////> */LW0tf?if. 
 
OF A FRENCH GENTLEMAN. 187 
 
 Mr. Markham, this morning, and he assured me that his patient 
 was already much better." 
 
 " It is fortunate that thirty hours — or thereabout — can have 
 worked such an improvement, being a tolerably convincing proof of 
 the insignificance of the wound." 
 
 " 'Twas nothing but a mere scratch, Miss Robson," remarked our 
 hero, sitting uneasily on his chair ; for he had called to make a 
 certain explanation, which perhaps the reader may recollect he was 
 resolved to do — and not to chatter on indifferent matters. He 
 knew that the peace of mind of a young and pretty girl was at 
 stake ; and he hastened to acquit himself of a duty he owed her, 
 her family, and himself. Disagreeable as was the task, it must 
 nevertheless be performed — and with as little delay as possible. 
 Selina herself furnished the opportunity. 
 
 " And have you no relatives — no friends, M. De Rosann, whom 
 your death might have plunged into the deepest affliction ? " en- 
 quired Selina with a shudder, as she contemplated the past possi- 
 bility of such a lamentable event. 
 
 " There is one in the world," answered Alfred, a sigh escaping 
 from his breast, " whose existence is so nearly coupled with mine, 
 that my health and happiness are conditions of her own — that my 
 tears would cause her's to flow in abundance, and my smiles 
 animate even her countenance with radiant joy. This being," con- 
 tinued our hero, not daring to look towards Selina, " is engaged to 
 me by the most solemn and unchangeable vows ; her heart is 
 devotedly attached to him whose soul is entirely wrapped up in 
 her. She is an angel of beauty, of chastity, and innocence — a 
 maiden whose pure mind, like your's, Miss Robson, is unacquainted 
 with guile — " 
 
 A convulsive sob interrupted this fervent but well-merited pane- 
 gyric of the charms and the character of Eloise : De Rosann 
 sprung hastily from his chair, and cursed his rashness in thus pre- 
 cipitately entering upon so tender a subject. Selina was white as 
 marble — despair was depicted upon her countenance — not even the 
 gigantic efforts of feminine modesty, reserve, and pride could con- 
 ceal the violence of her emotions — her bosom heaved convulsively — 
 tears ran down her pale cheeks — her whole frame was suddenly 
 paralysed with a sorrow — with a blow that made her motionless. 
 At length she exerted all her force, recalled the small remnants of 
 her broken courage, and hastily left the room. De Rosann did not 
 offer to detain her : he stood petrified by the chair she had just left, 
 uncertain how to act, undecided what course to pursue. 
 
 For five minutes did he thus remain in an attitude of pensiveness 
 and thought, without having resolved upon taking any step to 
 divest himself of the embarrassment of an unpleasant situation. In 
 the midst of his reflections, the door of the apartment opened 
 gently ; and Selina again entered the room. Her face had lost 
 nothing of its pallor — a deep melancholy had taken the place of 
 the despairing expression it ere now had worn — and a forced, an 
 unnatural tranquillity — a terrible calmness which made our hero 
 shudder — betrayed the violence^she was obliged to do her acutest 
 
188 ALFRED; OR ADVENTURES 
 
 feelings and sensibility. As she drew near to the spot where 
 De Rosann was standing, stupified at the remarkable change ten 
 minutes had been sufficient to work in the manners and the aspect 
 of that young lady, she endeavoured to smile ; but the attempt was 
 as vain as the essay of a departing sinner to assume a look of placid 
 felicity or fearlessness. Alfred uttered not a word— he was too 
 much shocked at the sad spectacle, to break a silence that appeared 
 solemn and sacred. Selina noticed his embarrassment, and felt it 
 her duty to terminate a scene that had betrayed her secret soul to 
 him whom she tenderly loved. 
 
 " M. De Rosann;' said she in a low voice, " you must pardon 
 and forget the events of this morning. It is useless for me to 
 attempt °to extenuate my folly by paltry excuses or subterfuges. 
 Were I a child of sixteen or seventeen, I should probably think it 
 incumbent upon me, and only consistent with female delicacy, to 
 deceive you as to the causes of my past emotions. But the age of 
 frivolityhas gone by : you have always treated me more as the 
 sensible woman, than the vain and coquettish girl: it is in the 
 former light that I desire to be now regarded, and that I mean to 
 express my sentiment. Listen for five minutes — I shall not detain 
 you long — and then let us drop a veil over the occurrences of this 
 morning, henceforth and for ever ! " 
 
 " O ! Selina — Miss Robson— have I then been the innocent cause 
 of filling your heart with sorrow !" exclaimed our hero, tears run- 
 ning down his cheeks, for he could not contemplate the marble 
 features of that once happy girl without emotion. 
 
 u Nay— Alfred — do not reproach yourself. I am alone to blame 
 
 and this confession of my weakness shall be my punishment. 
 
 I have loved you, M. De Rosann — loved you from the first moment 
 we met. Till I saw you, my heart had never known that passion 
 
 and at first I was unaware of its presence, still less of its ravages. 
 
 I loved you and a thousand innocent familiarities, which your 
 
 position, as an intimate friend to the family, allowed you to prac- 
 tise, were foolishly perverted by my disordered imagination into 
 proofs of a reciprocal regard. Did you press my hand by accident 
 
 did you call me by my Christian name in a moment of mirth— I 
 
 immediately fancied your forgetfulness or absence to be signs of a 
 tenderness mutually felt. 'Tvvas thus I deluded myself— 'twas thus 
 I nourished a flame to consume me— to devour my poor heart— to 
 destroy my peace — to rob me of rest — to plant thorns in my path : 
 and it is here, here," she added, placing her hand upon her breast, 
 " that the serpent gnaws— that the flame burns — and that the un- 
 seen worm preys upon my vitals ! " 
 
 " Selina— O Selina ! am 1 the cause of this ? " 
 
 « Yes but unintentionally so : and when once I shall have 
 
 unburthened my mind to you, De Rosann, I shall experience a 
 certain peace -a repose which my lacerated heart requires. In all 
 this I can attach no blame to you— 'tis my own perverse destiny 
 that has thus taught me to experience the miseries as well as the 
 joys of life. Do you think that my journey, from my birth to my 
 grave, is to pass amidst gay and smiling prospects ? Oh ! no- I 
 
OF A FRENCH GENTLEMAN. 189 
 
 am not more fortunate than tne rest of mankind! Deep as the im- 
 pression now is — great as are the ravages that my luckless affection 
 has made upon my mind, even in a period of three short weeks — 
 time, and time only, will moderate the pain, if it cannot altogether 
 eradicate the sting. And do not imagine that your presence will 
 afflict me for the future : as long as you remain in this city, call 
 upon us as usual, and we will be friends instead of — " 
 
 " Generous girl ! " exclaimed De Rosann : " Eloise could not be 
 jealous of one whose disposition is so noble ! " 
 
 " My ridiculous passion demanded a severe punishment," con- 
 tinued Selina : " and the awkwardness of my situation in being 
 thus obliged to make an avowal which lacerates my heart, wounds 
 my pride, and revolts against the purity of my sentiments, is an 
 ample penalty for the levity of my conduct. You are a man of 
 honour— you are upright and noble in your disposition — you have 
 heard my sad confession— and you will not publish my secret to the 
 world. Let it remain in two memories only — let us each carry it 
 to the tomb. And when you lead your destined bride to the altar, 
 recollect, De Rosann, that there is one in the world who gives you 
 her blessing, and who will offer up prayers for your future hap- 
 piness. My heart is now relieved of a heavy load — I feel calmer 
 than I have done for some days past — my feelings are less acute — 
 my mind is less agitated. And now let me conclude with a prayer 
 that you will not think the worse, of me, for having been obliged to 
 explain my emotions, aud to unveil the secrets of my soul." 
 
 " Think the worse of you, Miss Robson ! " ejaculated our hero, 
 astonished at the supposition. " I admire your character, and the 
 mingled delicacy and firmness of your mind, the more I hear you 
 speak, and the more I become acquainted with your thoughts. And, 
 O ! pardon the occasional levity, the frequent absence of mind, 
 which have thus imposed upon you ; and let me breathe a supplica- 
 tion to you not to imagine that I was wilfully guilty of an action 
 the most cowardly and the most base ! Had I never seen Eloise — 
 or had I seen you first, Miss Robson — it might have been different : 
 God only can look into the future — God only can judge of what 
 would have happened ; — the evil of to-day is sufficient for us to 
 know." 
 
 ''Say no more upon the subject," cried Selina: "let us give 
 each other a promise of friendship — and I must endeavour to con- 
 tent myself with that chilling appellation of what I feel. From 
 this moment forget the past — and persuade yourself that the adven- 
 tures of the last hour are a dream — a baseless vision." 
 
 " Farewell for the present," said De Rosann, anxious to return 
 home to compose the agitation of his mind : u and when next we 
 meet, we encounter each other as friends. Adieu ! " 
 
 On his return to his hotel, when he entered his sitting-room, he 
 found a note lying upon the table. He hastily opened it, and read 
 as follows : — 
 
 " A dying man, who is anxious to make his peace with all 
 his fellow-creatures, ere he quits this world of sin, implores M. De 
 
190 ALFRED; OR ADVENTURES 
 
 Rosann to visit him, if it be only for one minute, to smooth the 
 pillow of a death-bed, and pardon the injuries he has received." 
 
 The address of the house whither De Rosann was thus invited, 
 appeared at the bottom of this gloomy epistle ; and our hero did 
 not hesitate two minutes how to act. He hastily left the hotel, 
 and hurried to the mansion where his presence appeared so neces- 
 sary. The moment he mentioned his name, a servant in a hand- 
 some livery showed him to an apartment magnificently furnished, 
 and desired him to have the kindness to wait for five minutes, in 
 order that the sick man might be prepared to receive his visitor. 
 Our hero obeyed; and although a secret presentiment told him 
 who had sent for him, he was still anxious to be relieved of 
 suspense. Presently the domestic returned, and requested De 
 Rosann to follow him. They ascended a wide stair-case, and 
 passed up a long gallery that led to the invalid's chamber. Alfred 
 entered ; and the servant closed the door upon him. 
 
 " Is that you, De Rosann?" said a feeble voice, which our hero, 
 as he had expected, recognised to be La Motte's ; " and have you 
 obeyed my summons, and condescended to visit the repentant 
 sinner's death-bed? Oh! how thankful — how deeply grateful 
 I am I " 
 
 " La Motte," returned Alfred, in a solemn tone, " do not imagine 
 that I have come to reproach — I am here to pardon you !" 
 
 u Is it possible, De Rosann, that you can forget the deep in- 
 juries I have done you? — your reputation tarnished — your esta- 
 blishment ruined — your fortune dissipated— yourself accused and 
 condemned as a forger — " 
 
 " Ah ! how did you become aware of that?" interrupted Alfred, 
 suddenly. 
 
 " Four or five days ago, I met an individual whom I had once 
 known in Paris — a person of the name of Belle- Rose — and he 
 entrusted me with that which he called a great secret : he narrated 
 to me all the ignominy you had suffered on my account. But he 
 did not reveal the sad tidings till I had sworn that you aud I were 
 not friends, that the fact should never escape my lips in England, 
 and that there was no chance of our ever conversing together. 
 
 " He did right," cried De Rosann. 
 
 " A sudden malady has seized upon me," said La Motte, " and 
 will soon extinguish the vital spark with its vengeful breath. I 
 feel that a just God is punishing me for my crimes. Alas ! perhaps 
 the agonies I now endure are only a foretaste of those I am destined 
 to undergo in the regions where the worm dieth not, and the fire is 
 not quenched !" 
 
 " Console yourself, La Motte," whispered Alfred, in a kind 
 tone ; for he forgot at that awful moment all he had undergone 
 through the treachery of the dying man. 
 
 u Say that you pardon me !" implored La Motte, large drops of 
 perspiration falling from his forehead, and mingling with the 
 repentant tears which he shed. " Say that you pardon me — and 
 I may yet die in peace and comparative contentment." 
 
OF A FRENCH GENTLEMAN. 191 
 
 " I pardon you from the bottom ot my heart ; I forget all — a?i 
 you have made me suffer; I offer you the hand of friendship," 
 eried the generous youth, grasping the emaciated fingers held out 
 to him, " and I swear, as God is my judge, that I sincerely forgive 
 you La Motte — oh ! as sincerely as man can do." 
 
 " In my death I shall be more serviceable to you than I was in 
 my lifetime, De Rosann," said La Motte, vainly endeavouring to 
 stifle the convulsive sobs that nearly choked him, and that per- 
 petually interrupted his conversation : " I have at length done you 
 the justice I owe* you. Since the fatal moment of my crime, I 
 have scarcely known happiness, otherwise than as an empty name. 
 My affectionate wife, who never suspected my guilt, — and in order 
 to conceal it from her, I carefully avoided any correspondence 
 with the continent, not even suffering a French journal to enter 
 my house, — that devoted woman fell a victim to the change of 
 climate which my vices obliged her to endure, and left me alone 
 in the world a few weeks after our arrival in England. Nor did 
 my ill-gotten wealth profit me. It gradually disappeared in 
 unfortunate speculations; and, as if I had not already suffered 
 enough by my misdeeds, I was about to inveigle the worthy Mr. 
 Robson to place his property in my power. You saved him from 
 the precipice on which he stood. I left his house in shame and 
 confusion ; and, assembling the wreck of my riches, I entered 
 into a bold speculation the very next day, determined to lose all 
 and deprive myself of life, or by a desperate stroke to realize in 
 eight-and-forty hours an immense sum, with which I might live 
 happily in another clime. The foreign mail arrived — the funds 
 rose to the astonishment of every body — and I hailed my success 
 with unbounded joy. I then relinquished my idea of quitting the 
 country, and thought of settling in a distant part of England, and 
 thus avoiding the possibility of encountering men whose reproaches 
 I had every reason to dread — I mean Robson and yourself. But the 
 spirit of a gambler kept me in London ; and I still pursued my 
 desperate system of speculation, but with an unparalleled fortune. 
 I was astonished at my own prosperity, and saw myself in a few 
 days the possessor of more money than I had ever had at my dis- 
 posal during an adventurous life. The excitement my mind had 
 undergone threw me upon a sick bed, and other maladies have 
 crowded fast upon me to rob me of existence." 
 
 La Motte paused for a few moments, wiped his forehead, and 
 continued in a feebler voice to the following effect : — 
 
 " I feel that my last hour is approaching, and that the green 
 sod will soon close over my coffin : perhaps there is not a soul in 
 the world to drop a tear upon my tomb ! This morning I sent for 
 a lawyer and competent witnesses, and made my will. The con- 
 tents of it, De Rosann, will prove that I deeply deplore my treachery 
 towards you, and that on my death-bed I endeavour to make 
 amends. You need not be afraid to accept the trifle I have left 
 you, — it was honestly gained by my speculations on the Exchange. 
 I have, moreover, drawn up a full and clear statement of the 
 transaction by which your fair fame suffered. This has been 
 
192 ALFRED; OR ADVENTURES 
 
 signed by the French consul: the two documents will be found 
 together after my death. Till then neither shall be opened. Suf- 
 fice it to say, that your innocence will be fully established — and 
 you may yet look your enemies in the face." 
 
 " God knows, my motives in pardoning your offences towards 
 me were not interested, La Motte," cried De Rosann : " but I do 
 not refuse the bounteous gifts you may have bequeathed me — be- 
 because I am poor — I am a beggar, indeed — dependent on my 
 friends." 
 
 " And I have reduced you to so humiliating a predicament !" 
 cried La Motte, covering his face with his hands, and weeping 
 bitterly. " I have been the baneful cause of all your bitter tears — 
 your moments of agony — your nights of torment — and your days 
 of despair. Through my infernal machinations — but thought is 
 dreadful— I dare not look at the past— retrospection is terrible ' 
 Oh ! De Rosann — De Rosann — at length you are avenged — for you 
 witness my tortures. Oh ! oh !" 
 
 " I do not wish for vengeance," said our hero, mildly. 
 
 " I know it, De Rosann — you have pardoned me ! But I can 
 not yet pardon myself." 
 
 The surgeon now entered the room, and proceeded to examine 
 his patient's pulse. The fever was considerably increased by the 
 excitement of the last half hour ; and an almost involuntary shake 
 of the head, on the part of the medical man, convinced De Rosann 
 that La Motte had but a short time to live. In the evening he 
 rallied a little, and a hectic colour appeared on his cheeks ; but 
 towards midnight he suffered a relapse ; and at two o'clock on the 
 following morning he expired in the arms of the individual whom 
 ne had only a year ago ruined and reduced to the lowest pitch of 
 degradation. 
 
 When La Motte's will was opened r ,De Rosann found himself the 
 sudden heir to upwards of forty thousand pounds. He moreover 
 inherited the possession of the furniture, valuables, carriages, 
 horses, &c. In addition to these bequests, the sum of twelve 
 thousand pounds was left to liquidate the amounts due to those 
 discounters who had given cash upon the forged bills for which 
 De Rosann suffered, in case their claims had not been already 
 satisfied : and if they had received a portion, or the whole, of 
 the money that was owing to them, from the product of the 
 establishment when it became bankrupt, and was sold to other 
 merchants, then the remainder, or entire sum of twelve thousand 
 pounds, was to devolve to De Rosann as La Motte's heir. Fortu- 
 nately for our hero, the sale of his ruined house had been entrusted 
 to honest men ; and subsequent enquiry proved that the creditors 
 had been paid various dividends to the gross amount of seventy- 
 five per cent. Nine thousand pounds of the twelve, thus equi- 
 tably set apart by the repentant La Motte, were added to the other 
 legacies ; and no one congratulated De Rosann more sincerely on 
 his unexpected good fortune tl.au the worthy banker, and his 
 daughter Selina. 
 
OF A F BENCH GENTLEMAN. 193 
 
 CHAPTER XXv^II. 
 
 THE DEPARTURE. 
 
 In the same desk, which had contained the will of the penitent 
 La Motte, was a sealed document addressed to De Rosann. This 
 was the statement of the departed man relative to the circumstances 
 attending the forgery, duly witnessed by two respectable house- 
 keepers and by the French consul. De Rosann gladly possessed 
 himself of this important deed, the contents of which he did not 
 communicate even to Mr. Robson, for motives which scarcely re- 
 quire explanation. With Mrs. Clayton alone would the confession 
 of La Motte's crimes be chiefly availing ; and Alfred anticipated 
 the pleasure he should experience when he presented himself before 
 the conscientious mother, and produced the many recommendations 
 he now bore in his favour, amongst which his sudden accession of 
 wealth would not probably be the slightest. 
 
 A few days after the performance of the funeral obsequies of the 
 deceased La Motte, our hero was surprised by a visit from Belle- 
 Rose, whose shabby clothes, dirty appearance, and unchanged 
 linen, betokened one of those sudden reverses of fortune to which 
 the adventurer was far from unaccustomed. His hat was never- 
 theless still inclined to the right side two inches out of the perpen- 
 dicular ; and he endeavoured to make up by the increase of his 
 swagger for the miserable appearance of his person. 
 
 " De Rosann— my dear fellow," cried Belle-Rose, throwing 
 himself uninvited upon the sofa, and dirtying one of the cushions 
 with his boot, " I understand you are in luck— a favorite of 
 Madame Fortune — while I am as poor as a peasant of Auvergne. 
 Tis true, I could eat up all France and Navarre in six months, 
 if any one would give me the chance. But that does not put 
 guineas into my pocket ; and I already owe a tolerable round sum 
 to Markham." 
 
 " M. Belle-Rose," said Alfred, firmly, and in a severe tone of 
 voice, " I thought that when we tacitly concluded our agreement — 
 a compact you yourself suggested — " 
 
 " That we should remain mortal enemies, eh ? Oh ! no," inter- 
 rupted Belle-Rose ; "I entertain too sincere an affection for you 
 to continue at warfare. Peace ! Peace ! is my motto, De Rosann. 
 So give me your hand— and a little money in it, if you please ; 
 because I am miserably poor." 
 
 " For the last time, 'Belle-Rose, I will accede to your request, 
 cried our hero, unlocking his writing-desk, and taking out some 
 money : " but, remember, that this is absolutely the last time ; and 
 that if you call upon me again, I will sooner brave exposure at your 
 hands than satisfy your rapacious demands. There are a hundred 
 pounds at your service ; take them, and let me see your face no 
 more." 
 
 25 
 
UJ4 ALFRED; OR ADVENTURES 
 
 " Shall I give you my acknowledgment?" enquired Belle-Rose, 
 coolly transferring the bank-notes from the table to his pocket. 
 
 " Idiot !" exclaimed Alfred : "do you think I ever wish you to 
 pay me, even if you could ?" 
 
 " You are perfectly right not to expect it," said the adventurer. 
 " Good morning, my dear De Rosann ; and be assured you possess 
 my most undivided friendship." 
 
 With these words the soi-disant Count left the room ; and in the 
 afternoon the respectable inhabitants of the Quadrant were again 
 gratified with the appearance of the little Frenchman, who sported 
 more chains, was dressed in better style, and threw a greater swag- 
 ger into his gait than ever. 
 
 De Rosann received satisfactory letters from St. Malo, and 
 laughed heartily at the contents of Champignon's prospectus ; for 
 he instantly recognised the nick-names and real appellations of 
 many of the convicts at the bagne, who had made the poor gas- 
 tronomer their butt, and had puffed him up with promises to take 
 shares in his concern. But the happy tidings, that Eloise gradually 
 acquired health and spirits on account of the prospects her lover 
 held out relative to his' pardon and speedy return to France, to 
 claim her hand of a parent whose obstacles he declared his ability 
 to overcome, caused our hero to experience sentiments of pleasure 
 and felicity which we cannot define. Those only who have com- 
 batted against the cruelty or the pride of parents, and who have 
 met with severe repugnance to the attainment of a consent too long 
 withheld, can appreciate the feelings of a fond lover when he sees 
 fortune suddenly smiling upon him, his mistress tender and con- 
 stant, and a more than probability of eventually conducting her a 
 blushing bride, resplendent with beauty, animation, and joy, to 
 the hymeneal altar. 
 
 Time wore on— about a month since the receipt of Leblond's 
 letter elapsed — and that mysterious individual, faithful to his pro- 
 mise, sent De Rosann the anxiously-anticipated pardon. Our 
 hero tore open the paper that enclosed it; and when his eyes 
 caught the first words, " Nous, Charles le dix, Roi de France et 
 Navarre, avons ordonne et ordonnons ce qui suit" &c. &c.,* and 
 when he noticed the signature of the Minister of Justice at the 
 bottom of the sovereign decree, he could not contain his joy ; but 
 with all his native vivacity he performed a thousand ridiculous 
 antics, till he was ashamed of his very self, and began seriously to 
 consider whether he had not lost his senses. The idea that he 
 could now return to his beloved country — that nothing farther 
 detained him in England, and that he was at liberty to commence 
 his journey back again to 
 
 " The chosen home of chivalry, - 
 And garden of romance," 
 
 whenever he chose to order the post-chaise and bid adieu to his 
 
 * " We, Charles the Tenth, King of France and Navarre, have decreed and do 
 decree that which follows," &c. This is the preamble of all royal mandates in 
 France. 
 
OF A FRENCH GENTLEMAN. 195 
 
 lriends — the conviction that he was now no longer a felon, nor a 
 criminal in the eyes of his country's laws, and that the almost 
 insuperable bar to his marriage with Eloise was probably over- 
 come — these reflections caused his heart to leap within him, and 
 he exclaimed aloud, " This moment is an ample reward for all the 
 hours of agony and suffering I have undergone. Pardoned by my 
 king, once more on a level with the proudest of my fellow- 
 countrymen, possessing a competency sufficient to ensure me bread 
 for the future, and then Eloise — oh ! indeed — indeed, this instant 
 of bliss is as a drop of wine after cups of vinegar and gall ! " 
 
 The following morning was fixed for his departure ; and he 
 determined to spend the last evening of his sojourn in the English 
 metropolis with the kind friends to whom he was under a mul- 
 tiplicity of obligations. Having first informed Mr. Robson of his 
 intentions, he ascended to the drawing-room, where — as if destiny 
 had arranged the meeting on purpose — he found himself alone 
 with Selina. 
 
 " No circumstances can this time make me change my mind, 
 Miss Robson : my presence at St. Malo is absolutely necessary in 
 a few days," said our hero, when he had gradually unfolded the 
 chief object of his visit to the being whom the sad news afflicted 
 as much as they gave him pleasure. 
 
 " May all happiness attend you, M. De Rosann !" cried Selina, 
 wiping away a tear. " May you reap the reward which your 
 constancy deserves, and experience an uninterrupted felicity in the 
 arms of your future bride." 
 
 " And may you forget, Miss Robson, the image of the individual 
 who has been unfortunate enough to cause you pain : may you be 
 united to one capable of appreciating your worth, and of ensuring 
 you that domestic joy which your virtues and your disposition so 
 essentially merit." 
 
 " No, Alfred — M. De Rosann — I shall not seek a change like 
 that to which you allude. My heart can never become the property 
 of another ; and where I cannot place my affections, there must I not 
 hope for solace or consolation. 'Twould be a crime to engage in 
 the holy bonds of matrimony — 'twould be practising a cheat upon 
 a confiding husband, to return his love with indifference." 
 
 " May you not hope, Selina, that a year — eighteen months — " 
 
 " Can change my sentiments ?" cried Miss Robson, hastily in- 
 terrupting our hero, as if he were uttering a blasphemy : " O no, 
 no. Were you better acquainted with my character — my disposi- 
 tion — you would not think so lightly of me as your remark proves 
 you do ; but you would pity the undying, the unquenchable flame 
 that gnaws my suffering heart." 
 
 (i And yet you yourself said that time could haply work a change 
 for the better," observed De Rosann, alluding to the fatal day when; 
 the memorable explanation took place between himself and tin 
 unhappy maiden, whose misplaced affection was a scorpion hei 
 bosom had nourished to sting the most vital part. 
 
 " If I thought so at the moment, I was wrong : but I probably 
 uttered the words you refer to with the idea of dispelling your fears 
 
196 ALFRED; OH ADVENTURES 
 
 for ray health and happiness. Since the morning on which I dis- 
 covered my terrible mistake, we have kept our vows, and have not 
 again touched upon the melancholy topic. You are now going to 
 leave me — you are about to be united to one whom you love— we 
 shall be separated for ever — never more to meet in this world, 
 unless by some strange accident, for it will be my duty to avoid 
 you, on account of your innocent wife, who must naturally expe- 
 rience a certain jealousy of her husband's female friends ; and I 
 did not think it a crime once more to unburthen my mind, and 
 assure you of the constant esteem I shall entertain for you, although 
 hundreds of miles may separate us. Do not question my natural 
 delicacy in thus reviving a subject over which the veil of oblivion 
 should have been for ever drawn ; but pardon the weakness of a 
 maiden condemned to sigh and to despair." 
 
 " My fatal reserve — my want of frankness in the first instance 
 have caused these sufferings; and never shall I cease to reproach 
 my injustice and my folly as the origin of an amiable woman's 
 sorrows." 
 
 " If you persist in thus accusing yourself, you will only add to 
 my unhappiness ; whereas, did I know that you feel an inward 
 conviction, a secret certainty of your innocence, I should be con- 
 tented. Promise me, then, M. De Rosann — Alfred— that you will 
 not blame — "' 
 
 " Not blame myself, Selina !" cried De Rosann, his heart bleeding 
 at the agony he saw depicted on the countenance of the noble- 
 minded girl : " only name your wishes — tell me to vituperate my 
 conduct — or to accuse no one — to consider all unoffending — and I 
 will obey you ! " 
 
 " Accuse no one, then," said Selina, repeating I^e Rosann's 
 words : " and forget that we have ever revived the subject — or 
 rather, forget the subject itself: henceforth be it no more a reminis- 
 cence to which you can even refer, so that the thought may cause 
 you neither pain nor remorse." 
 
 The entrance of Mrs. Robson and Mary put an end to the embar- 
 rassment of De Rosann and the melancholy disclosures of Selina. 
 When the banker's wife was informed of Alfred's speedy departure, 
 and of the very next morning being fixed upon as the day, she 
 could scarcely conceal an exjDression of sorrow or disappointment ; 
 for she had fondly anticipated, that " the handsome young French- 
 man would have proposed to her younger daughter;" and since he 
 had succeeded to the wealth of the late La Motte, she had been 
 particularly anxious to retain hirn in her family as a son-in-law. 
 But the worthy lady was doomed to see her Chateaux en Espagne 
 levelled in an instant. 
 
 When Mr. Robson entered the room, his disappointed spouse drew 
 him aside, and whispered in his ear, " So M. De Rosann is decided 
 on leaving London to-morrow morning?" 
 
 ,l Yes, my love." 
 
 u And he has not proposed to Selina," continued the good lady. 
 
 " No, my love." 
 
 " Do you not think it rather strange?" enquired Mrs. Robson. 
 
OF A FRENCH GENTLEMAN. 197 
 
 u Not at all, my love." 
 
 " I wish you would not love me quite so much, Mr. Robson ; but 
 give yourself the trouble to be a little more explicit." 
 
 " On what subject?" demanded the banker calmly. 
 
 " Relative to M. De Rosann's conduct," returned Mrs. Robson. 
 
 " What has he done?" 
 
 " What has he not done ? you mean. After all his flirtation with 
 Selina — after all his marked attention to her- and after all the 
 kindness he has experienced at this house, he has not proposed, and 
 he purposes leaving to-morrow morning." 
 
 " Now I can be explicit, my dear," said Mr. Robson with the 
 same provoking calmness, which added to his wife's irritation. 
 " M. De Rosann, as you told me yourself, danced twice with Selina 
 at the house of our friends the Went worths — that was not flirtation. 
 M. De Rosann has paid more attention to Selina than to Mary, or 
 any other lady whom he may have met here, because she under- 
 stands French, and because he cannot speak two words of English 
 — that is not marked attention. And with regard to the kindness 
 we have had it in our power to shew him, a'few dinners, &c, &c. 
 are not a very considerable return for the service he rendered your 
 husband, Mrs. Robson, in putting an end to that husband's specu- 
 lative views with regard to Lebrun or La Motte. Therefore, in 
 every point you are entirely refuted; and allow me to request you 
 not only to forget these silly notions of your's, but also to pay my 
 friend M. De Rosann the usual attention he has been accustomed 
 to receive at my table." 
 
 These words were spoken with a firmness that exhibited a 
 determination on Mr. Robson's part to be obeyed ; and the discom- 
 fited lady returned to the drawing-room in any thing rather than a 
 good humour. 
 
 The evening passed away gloomily and sadly. Selina spoke but 
 little — the banker himself was out of spirits — and Alfred felt an 
 oppression for which he could not account. Mary was sorry to lose 
 " so handsome a chaperon" to their morning promenades, as De 
 Rosann — and her mother could not conceal her ill temper at the 
 disappointment she had experienced. At length the clock struck 
 eleven — and our hero rose to depart. He took his leave of the 
 excellent Mr. Robson with unfeigned regret, he thanked him and 
 Mrs. Robson for all their kindness toward him, and promised to 
 write as soon as he should have arrived at Paris. He then bade 
 adieu to Mary more with politeness than regret — and turned to 
 Selina. Her cheek was death-like pale, but no tears dimmed her 
 eyes — her countenance wore rather the expression of despair than 
 of melancholy. He took her trembling hand, and wished her all 
 happiness — she endeavoured to reply — her tongue clave to the roof 
 of her mouth — and her emotions were visible to all present. That 
 instant revealed her secret — the quick glance of her parents and 
 sister detected her unrequited love, and marked her looks, in which 
 was depicted an intensity of agony. " Farewell!" cried De 
 Rosann once more : an almost inaudible " Adieu !" was returned — 
 he relinquished the burning hand that was clasped in his, and 
 
198 ALFRED; OR ADVENTURES^ 
 
 rushed out of the room, glad to escape the severe necessity of 
 beholding Selina's woe, of which he himself was the innocent 
 cause. 
 
 De Rosann had ordered the post-chaise to be ready at ten o'clock 
 on the following morning. He packed up his various papers with 
 the most particular attention, arranged every thing ready for his 
 departure, and lay down to rest — but not to sleep. At one moment 
 the image of Selina haunted his fancy ; and at another the antici- 
 pated happiness he promised himself on his arrival at St. Malo, 
 drove away all inclination to slumber. It was not till nearly 
 daylight that he closed his eyes in forgetfulness of his present good 
 fortune and his past miseries; perhaps even then they followed him 
 in his dreams. 
 
 When he awoke, he found a waiter of the hotel standing by his 
 bed-side with a letter in his hands. Our hero hastily tore it open ; 
 he recognised the hand-writing of Leblond, and as speedily 
 perused its contents, which obliged him to counter-order the post- 
 chaise for a few hours. Leblond's epistle was short, and neither 
 welcome nor disagreeable. It merely stated, that as De Rosann 
 would doubtless quit London immediately, even if he had not 
 already left, he might call at a certain mercantile house in the city, 
 and take charge of a considerable sum of money, in bills of ex- 
 change and cheques upon Paris, which Leblond gave him authority 
 to receive. This sum was doubtless destined for the service of those 
 invisible powers whose intrigues extended even to a foreign land ^ 
 and De Rosann did not hesitate a moment what course to purstfet 
 Leblond declared he should have mentioned the circumstance in 
 his letter which accompanied the king's pardon, and which Alfred 
 had received the day before, had it not slipped his memory as he 
 wrote in a hurry. He concluded by desiring our hero not to linger 
 more than possible on his journey to Paris, and to call at the Rue 
 de la Chanoinesse the moment he arrived in that city. 
 
 De Rosann threw the letter upon the table near the bed, and 
 hastily performed his toilet, in order to lose no time ere he started 
 for Southampton, whence it was his intention to embark on board 
 a steam-vessel bound to Havre. He threw himself into a hackney- 
 coach, and desired the driver to take him to an address, that he 
 named, in the city. The obsequious Jarvey whipped his two 
 miserable animals, which he was pleased to dignify by the title of 
 horses, and the vehicle flew along the Strand at a quicker rate than 
 ordinarily distinguishes carriages of the kind. And here we may 
 observe, en passant, that if the English hackney-coachmen and 
 omnibus-cads were only one quarter as civil as the individuals who 
 fill similar distinguished situations in France, the magistrates of 
 Bow-street, Hatton-garden, &c, would leave the official benches 
 half an hour earlier every day, to their especial contentment, and 
 to the annoyance of the proprietors of BeUs Life in London and the 
 Weekly Dispatch, the columns of which journals are invariably filled 
 with police-reports wherein the myrmidons of Shillibeer generally 
 figure to advantage. 
 
 On account of certain formalities to be filled up, and certain 
 
OF A FRENCH GENTLEMAN. 1C9 
 
 unavoidable delays, upon which it is not our intention to dwell, 
 De Rosann could not receive the money until four o'clock in the 
 afternoon, when he was obliged to proceed to the city a second time 
 to fetch it and sign a receipt. But in the interval between his two 
 visits, we must notice that a gentleman honoured our hero with a 
 call, and, not rinding him at home, took the trouble to wait at least 
 a quarter of an hour, expecting his return. De Rosann questioned 
 the waiter as to the age, dress, and principal characteristics of the 
 person who had exhibited such uncommon politeness, and found, 
 by the answers he received to his enquiries, that the individual in 
 question could have been no other than Belle-Rose. The waiter, 
 moreover, added, that the visitor appeared astonished when he was 
 informed of De Rosann's intended departure. Our hero concluded 
 that his former companion was once more pushed for a little ready 
 money, and he made all possible haste to leave the hotel before the 
 self-styled Count might take it into his head to call again. But 
 despite of all his dispatch, it was past seven o'clock in the 
 evening before he ascended the steps of the post-chaise that was to 
 bear him away from London. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII. 
 
 THE JOURNEY. 
 
 It was ten o'clock before De Rosann arrived at Bagshot. The 
 night was stormy and tempestuous ; the wind howled fearfully 
 along the dismal road which runs across the heath ; the rain- 
 pattered against the windows of the post-chaise with the force of 
 hail-stones ; the moon was concealed by dense clouds ; not a star 
 appeared upon the face of heaven ; all was dark and sombre. 
 When the blast blew violently, it resembled the rush of a mio-htv 
 torrent ; and when its vigour relaxed at intervals, it seemed like the 
 agonizing groans of a human being ere his life be rendered up to 
 the ferocity of the murderer. The lamps of the carriage threw but 
 a partial and glimmering light a few paces in front : the thunder 
 rolled occasionally over-head with awful din ; and the lightning, 
 from time to time, broke upon the obscurity of nature in vivid 
 flashes, as evanescent as they were bright. Still De Rosann did not 
 repent having left London during such weather : he was anxious to 
 return to his native land, and ascertain the fate that awaited him 
 according to the decision which Eloise's mother should pronounce 
 and which he had every reason to hope would be favourable. 
 
 At Bagshot, De Rosann opened the window of the post-chaise 
 for a moment, and called the postillion to the door. He did not 
 attempt to make him understand his meaning by mere words be- 
 cause, of all people in the world, an English post-boy is about the 
 last whom a rational being would expect to speak French : but 
 money has a persuasive eloquence peculiar to itself; and an extra 
 half-crown, paid before-hand, on this occasion produced the desired 
 
200 ALFRED ; OR ADVENTURES 
 
 effect. Our hero saw that his wishes were comprehended : and, 
 having drawn up the blinds, he endeavoured to compose himself to 
 sleep, while the postillion whipped his spirited horses, and urged 
 them to such a pace that Alfred could not reproach himself for 
 having expended coin in vain. 
 
 Immediately out of Bagshot, which lies in a valley, the road 
 ascends a steep hill. Up this acclivity clashed the chaise drawn by 
 two animals, on whose tender sides the spur and the lash were not 
 used fruitlessly. The brow was passed ; and the descent was made 
 at the same rapid rate, as if life were unrecked for, and speed alone 
 regarded. Alfred felt a momentary alarm at so extraordinary a 
 celerity ; but he did not choose to exhibit his nervous fears by 
 desiring the postilion to relax from that pace which he himself had 
 encouraged with his munificence. The level piece of ground to 
 which they had now arrived, a mile before the entrance of the 
 town of Blackwater, was scarcely touched by the hoofs of the horses 
 as they galloped over it like grey-hounds stretching across the 
 plain, bearing the carriage in their rear as if it were a thing of no 
 weight. In the mean time the flashes of lightning gradually be- 
 came more frequent and more vivid ; the thunder broke forth with 
 deafening peals ; the violence of the rain increased ; and the mur- 
 muring of the wind as rapidly abated to a comparative tranquillity. 
 Faster and faster flew the mettled steeds — their iron-shod heels 
 struck fire even on a road deluged with water — but the crack of the 
 postillion's whip was heard no longer. Trusting too confidently to 
 the vigour of his arm, and to the supposed command he had over 
 his horses, he had given the high-spirited animals a larger scope 
 than they were accustomed to enjoy — their loosened bridles had 
 relaxed the galling of the bit — and the lightning terrified them by 
 its repeated glare. 
 
 When too late, the postillion discovered his imprudence. The 
 horses obeyed his voice as much as the ocean regards the charm of 
 the Norwegian mariner, who whistles to reduce it to silence and to 
 calmness. De Rosann soon perceived the effect of his inauspicious 
 liberality, and did not then hesitate to call to the postillion to arrest 
 the progress of the flying animals. His shouts only terrified them 
 the more, and increased their speed. The carriage traced an un- 
 even passage along the road — it oscillated from side to side with 
 dreadful jerks — and occasionally threatened to overturn, as one 
 wheel sunk deeply into the mud, and the other passed upon a heap 
 of stones. De Rosann was jolted, first to the right and then to 
 the left; the windows rattled as if they would break; and the 
 chain, to which the skid was attached, clanked backwards and 
 forwards to increase the discordant clamour. 
 
 The town of Blackwater was traversed with the rapidity of the 
 flight of an arrow shot from the bow by the arm of a strong archer : 
 the pavemeni echoed a moment to the hoofs of the horses, and the 
 sound was lost upon the murmuring blast as though it had not been. 
 It was then the spirited animals relaxed their ardour, and gradually 
 reduced their pace to one of less celerity. There is, on the farther 
 side from London of Blackwater, a high hill immediately before 
 
OF A FRENCH OENTLEMAN. 
 
 201 
 
 the road opens upon the wide common called Harford Flats. This 
 ascent was made with a still decreasing speed, and when the vehicle 
 arrived at the summit, the horses, beaten by their own exertions, 
 spontaneously stopped to recover breath. Alfred was about to 
 reproach the post-boy for his rashness in thus suffering himself to 
 be mastered by steeds whose mettle was not to be idly tampered 
 with : but he checked himself in time to recollect that the vitupera- 
 tion he meditated would not come within the limits of that indi- 
 vidual's comprehension. He however caused the door to be opened, 
 and descended to examine the chaise, in order to ascertain if the 
 linch-pins were in their places, and if the wheels had experienced 
 any damage. 
 
 While he was thus engaged, the distant sounds of horses' hoofs 
 met his ears ; and in the course of a minute three men, mounted on 
 " stalworth chargers," galloped up to the spot where the post-chaise 
 was standing. Instead of passing by, they suddenly halted, and, 
 with one accord, leaped to the ground. Alfred started from the 
 stooping posture in which he was bent towards the box of one of 
 the wheels, the moment he heard that simultaneous movement on 
 the part of the strangers; and a suspicion of their design instantly 
 flashed across his mind. He made a rush toward the door of the 
 chaise, in order to seize his pistols ; but, as if his aim were antici- 
 pated, the foremost of the three robbers threw himself between our 
 hero and the carriage, while a second pinioned his arms behind 
 him. The third ran forward to secure the postillion ; he, however, 
 searched in vain ; that wary individual had slipped away the 
 instant he perceived the vile intentions of the three travellers. 
 
 De Rosann made a desperate effort to disengage himself from the 
 vigorous grasp that had assailed him ; and, by a turn more dexterous 
 than powerful, he once more regained the freedom of his arms. To 
 dash aside the man -who had intervened between himself and the 
 carriage, was the work of an instant, and the robber fell so heavily 
 against one of the wheels, that he rolled senseless to the ground, 
 apparently stunned by the sudden blow. Our hero's pistols were 
 on the seat of the carriage ; the door was open, and the step was 
 down. He leapt lightly up, and succeeded in securing the loaded 
 weapons, ere he was again attacked. All this was the work of a 
 second : but before he had time to turn and confront his enemies, 
 he was tripped up from behind, and levelled with the ground as he 
 attempted to descend from the first step of the carriage whereon 
 he had mounted to reach his pistols, one of which exploded as he 
 fell. 
 
 No sooner was De Rosann thus powerless on the muddy road, 
 than one of the two robbers who remained capable of acting— for 
 the other was still senseless — leaped upon our hero to prevent him 
 from rising, and presented a large clasp-knife to the back of his 
 neck, touching the skin with the point, and instantly withdrawing 
 it, not from motives of cruelty, but merely to show the vicinity of 
 the murderous weapon. The companion of the man thus employed 
 in acting as sentry over De Rosann, proceeded to examine the 
 carriage, and, for that purpose, he detached one of the lanterns 
 
 20 
 
202 Alfred: or adventurks 
 
 hanging in front. No sooner did the lamp move from its place, 
 than Alfred felt himself suddenly relieved of the load from his 
 back, and, starting up, he ascertained, by the glimmering rays of 
 light, that the robber who had kept him down was struggling in the 
 vfgorous grasp of the postillion. De Rosann lost not a minute, 
 but rushed upon the remaining highway-man who was about to 
 commence his examination of the carriage, and levelled him to the 
 ground with a blow of the pistol which had exploded. He then 
 relieved the postillion of his charge, by tying the robber's arms and 
 legs with some cordage he hastily cut from one of his trunks, and, 
 rolling him into a dry ditch at the side of the road whither the 
 post-boy had at first retired for refuge, and whence he had emerged 
 when a favourable opportunity of putting an end to the combat 
 presented itself. That opportunity was discovered by the rays of 
 the lantern which was detached from its place to aid the thief in 
 the investigation of the baggage, as detailed above. 
 
 Our hero was about to jump into the chaise and continue his 
 journey, when one of the robbers, that lay stretched upon the 
 road, gave a loud groan. De Rosann seized the lantern from the 
 hands of the postillion, who was going to restore it to its place, and 
 drew near to assist the sufferer. The exclamation issued from the 
 individual De Rosann had thrown against the wheel. When the 
 -ays of the feeble light fell upon the pale countenance of the fallen 
 man, Alfred uttered a cry of surprise and horror— for he recognised 
 the features of his ancient antagonist Markham ! 
 
 A sudden idea struck the mind of our hero. Belle-Rose had 
 called upon him in the morning, and had remained a quarter of an 
 hour in the room he occupied at the hotel, where Leblond's letter 
 was lying open upon the table. No sooner did De Rosann recall 
 these circumstances to his memory, than he ran to the second 
 robber, who lay senseless upon the ground, approached the lamp to 
 his face, and, as he had anticipated, discovered his former com- 
 panion Belle-Rose ! He did not stay to trouble himself about the 
 
 third but, horror-stricken at the dreadful events which had just 
 
 happened, and trembling for the future fate of his miserable fellow- 
 countryman, he leapt into the carriage, and was soon far away 
 from the spot where the combat had taken place. He did not 
 forget to thank the Almighty that no blood had been spilt, "and that 
 he had so narrowly escaped being despoiled of his most valuable 
 possessions. m 
 
 u Had the miserable wretches succeeded in this vile attempt, 
 said De Rosann to himself, as the post-chaise rolled onward, " I 
 should have been undone for ever. The treasure with which I am 
 entrusted would be now in their possession; and my tale would 
 stand but a poor chance of pacifying the owners of those riches on 
 my arrival at Paris. But fortune is wearied of tormenting me ; 
 and has doubtless turned her capricious resentment against other 
 unhappy beings, who at this moment are deploring her harshness. 
 And to such a degraded abyss of infamy is Belle-Rose reduced ! 
 He, that only a few weeks ago was proud of his comparative guilt- 
 lessness when put in competition with the turpitude of other men, 
 
v; ,SM^ 
 
OF A FRENCH GEXTLEMA 20"? 
 
 — he, that boasted of never having been obliged to plunder the 
 nightly traveller, and that despised the adventurous high-wayman 
 and assassin — he is fallen to a level with the vilest of robbers and 
 miscreants. O what a change can a short period work in the 
 minds and pursuits of human beings ! And, alas ! what charms can 
 temptation assume, what alluring habits hold out ? It is too late — 
 or I would still endeavour to snatch the unfortunate votary of 
 dissipation and debauchery, from the precipice on which he stands, 
 and procure him an honourable employment. But it is useless !" 
 
 De Rosann arrived at Southampton without any other adventure 
 worth relating, and was not a little grieved when he found that the 
 captain of the steam- vessel did not dare put out to sea, on account of 
 the inclemency of the weather. Our hero was therefore constrained 
 to wait three or four days in a town where he was a perfect stranger ; 
 and solace himself as well as he was able with the contents of an 
 old French romance which he picked up at a circulating library. 
 
 On the morning of the fifth day the wind had so much abated, 
 that De Rosann was enabled to embark. After a tolerable passage, 
 during which he was nevertheless a sad victim to that dreadful but 
 transitory malady — sea-sickness, he landed in safety at Havre, and 
 immediately hired a carriage to take him to St. Malo. 
 
 His heart leapt within him as he once more breathed the air of 
 his native France, — the land of his forefathers ; and he felt proud 
 of being again recognised by his government as a free citizen of 
 the country that had produced whole armies of heroes to adorn with 
 undying names the pages of history. There is not a nation in 
 the world more patriotic than the French. The English mistake 
 their own common national prejudices and bigotted adoration of 
 institutions they scarcely comprehend, for a true patriotism ; 
 whereas pride alone is the origin of their blind love. A Frenchman 
 understands his own feelings better ; he never asserts " that all is 
 perfect" on his native soil ; he will fight for it — he will praise it — 
 and at the same time he will confess the perfections or admit the 
 superiority of certain laws, habits, or systems, prevalent or existing 
 in other climes. The Frenchman argues with warmth, energy, and 
 action ; but he does not forget the rules of logic, or the dictates 
 of reason : the Englishman contents himself by saying " It is so," 
 because he knows it — " and fancies he has destroyed the whole 
 fabric of controversy erected by his opponent. 
 
 While the horses were being harnessed to the carriage, De Rosann 
 amused himself with a Paris daily paper that was lying upon the 
 table in the coffee-room of the inn. It was the Constitutionnel over 
 which he thus accidentally cast his eyes ; and an article, wherein 
 this celebrated journal* endeavoured to refute the assertions of an 
 opposition contemporary, immediately rivetted our hero's attention 
 to the subject. Subtle and plausible as were the arguments made 
 use of by the Constitutionnel, the severe truths it attempted to con- 
 tradict were but too palpable to the meanest capacity. The oppo- 
 
 * A year after the establishment of the Constitutionnel, its circulation amounted 
 to the almost incredible number of twenty-eight thousand per diem. At the pre- 
 sent moment, it is scarcely twelve. 
 
£P4 ALFRED; OR ADVENTURES 
 
 sition paper totally exposed the rash measures practised by the ex- 
 isting ministry, and hinted broadly at the probable result. It was 
 evident, according to the exposure thus made of many of the im- 
 politic schemes of Polignac and his associates in office, that the 
 throne of the royal Bourbons was tottering, that the cry of an en- 
 slaved nation would shortly alarm the imprudent Charles in his 
 palace at St. Cloud, and that, the public feeling was labouring 
 under a strong excitement. De Rosann sighed when he reflected 
 how another popular tumult might again prepare consular seats for 
 new Robespierres, Dantons, and a host of petty tyrants — he 
 feared lest, the head of the hydra being cut off, a multiplicity of 
 others might spring up in its place — but he acknowledged within 
 himself that France could not submit her proud head to an un- 
 worthy yoke, and that her sons must be free ! 
 
 Our hero's reflections were interrupted by the entrance of the 
 hostler, who informed him that the post-chaise was in readiness, 
 and was waiting for him. De Rosann forgot the Constitutionnel, 
 Polignac, Peyronnet, and the probable crisis that was at hand, and 
 instantly obeyed the welcome summons — for his anxiety to embrace 
 his beloved Eloise may naturally be imagined. And if our reader 
 have ever been placed in a similar situation, let him call to mind 
 his own feelings, and judge by them of the mingled hope and fear — 
 expectation and alarm — which Alfred felt when the wheels of the 
 carriage rolled upon the pavement of St. Malo. He desired the 
 postillion to conduct him to the hotel he and Belle-Rose had pa- 
 tronised the last time he visited that sea-port, and soon descended 
 in the court-yard of the inn amidst the salutations of landlord, 
 waiter, and chamber-maid. 
 
 " Apparently Monsieur has not irretrievably forgotten us," said 
 the host, as he assisted De Rosann to alight. " I recollected the ex- 
 traordinarily handsome features of Monsieur instantaneously the car- 
 riage stopped at our gate ; and I unfeignedly hope Monsieur has 
 satisfactorily performed his arduously undertaken and suddenly 
 resolved-upon journey to England." , 
 
 ** Thank you — thank you !" cried our hero by way of answer to 
 the jargon of the landlord. * 4 Hasten and cut the cords of those 
 trunks — I must see them conveyed to my bed-chamber before 
 I leave." 
 
 " Leave !" exclaimed the maitrc tf hotel. " Indubitably Monsieur 
 must immediately partake of some speedily prepared refreshment.' 7 
 
 " No — in an hour or two— for God's sake, use despatch with that 
 baggage — I have a call to make first," replied De Rosann, vainly 
 endeavouring to escape from fresh importunities. 
 
 " A call to make !" persisted the landlord in a strain that would 
 have wearied the patience of even a Job or a martyr : '• that is 
 indisputably a duty on infinitely numerous occasions ; but decidedly 
 when a gentleman has necessitatedly passed many wearily tiresome 
 hours in a post-chaise, he should evidently first seriously occupy 
 himself about his dinner." 
 
 " Parbleu ! arrange it as you like," cried De Rosann, anxious to 
 avoid a farther discussion with the provoking landlord. " I must 
 
OF A FRENCH GENTLEMAN. 205 
 
 call first on a family — the family of Mrs. Clayton — do you know 
 the name — it is English V* 
 
 " So inconceivably short is my memory," returned the host, 
 " that affairs indispensably — " 
 
 " I know the family this gentleman alludes to," interrupted the 
 porter : " the lady and gentleman, whose daughter died the day 
 before yesterday." 
 
 11 Died !" exclaimed Alfred, a cold perspiration running down 
 his forehead. " A young lady of the na^me of Clayton ?" 
 
 " Yes — Playton — that is the name," rejoined the porter. 
 
 " One whom fame loudly reports to have been an extraordinarily 
 renowned actress," said the landlord. " It is unanswerably proved 
 that she had three illegitimately begotten children — " 
 
 " Thank God !" cried De Rosann, relieved from a sudden and 
 terrible fear, while the host and the porter wondered why he should 
 express his gratitude to Providence because the deceased actress 
 had been guilty of a breach of continence and chastity, and had 
 left behind her living proofs of her frailty. 
 
 " Yes — God is indubitably to be thanked," added the obsequious 
 landlord, determined not to differ in opinion with his guest, " for 
 having mercifully taken the life of the young lady, before she 
 rapidly peopled the town with children infamously conceived. " 
 
 The trunks were at length lifted from the post-chaise, and carried 
 by De Rosann's orders to the apartment he was destined to occupy 
 according to the directions of the landlord. Our hero hastily 
 changed his clothes, and performed his toilet ; and, having con- 
 signed certain documents to his pocket, he sallied forth to call 
 upon his beloved Eloise. The porter of the hotel was soon found 
 to conduct him to the house where he anticipated to hear pro- 
 nounced the final fiat that should stamp his happiness or his misery, 
 and divest him of suspense. But the fears were few, and the hopes 
 were many and sanguine that filled the breast of our hero, as he 
 hurried along the street towards the dwelling he was so anxious 
 to reach. 
 
 " Now," thought he to bimself, as he knocked at the door and 
 dismissed the porter back again to the hotel, — " now let me reap a 
 reward for all my past sufferings, or find that I have laboured 
 fruitlessly and in vain !" 
 
 CHAPTER XXIX. 
 
 UNWELCOME NEWS. 
 
 When Belle-Rose came to himself, and partially recovered his 
 senses, he felt a dreadful chill, which had taken possession of his 
 whole body. At first he was at a loss to ascertain where he was ; 
 but as his scattered ideas gradually concentrated and furnished his 
 memory with the power of reflection, he called to mind all that 
 had passed ; and instead of repenting of the daring deed he had 
 contemplated, he vented his indignation in curses against its 
 failure. The nigi.t was pilch dark — the rain still fell in torrents — 
 
206 ALFRED; OR ADVENTURES 
 
 the wind alone had abated in violence. A sudden flash of light- 
 ning enabled him to judge the result of the combat. The post- 
 chaise had disappeared ; one of his comrades lay stretched upon 
 the ground ; the other was no where to be seen. But their horses 
 were standing tranquilly in the middle of the road, overcome with 
 terror, and not daring to move from the spot. The joy of Belle- 
 Rose was great when he thus perceived means of escape so near 
 at hand ; for he suspected that De Rosann would return with aid 
 to capture himself and his two companions. He therefore sprang 
 upon the back of one of the trembling steeds, and departed at full 
 gallop towards London, heedless of the cries which escaped from 
 the unfortunate wretch whom De Rosann had bound hand and 
 foot and cast into the dry ditch, and who set up a most plaintive 
 yell when he heard Belle-Rose rise from the ground and mutter 
 audible curses on account of the unsuccessful enterprise that thus 
 had allured him from a warm bed, and exposed his person to the 
 inclemency of the weather. 
 
 At about four o'clock in the morning, the self-styled Count 
 entered the metropolis, and returned to the hotel at which he 
 resided. His clothes were covered with mud ; his face was dis- 
 figured with scratches and bruises acquired during his scuffle with 
 the postillion, and his appearance altogether afforded a sorry spec- 
 tacle. Luckily the porter who opened the door to him had no 
 light in his hand ; and being accustomed to attend such summonses 
 at all hours, he did not make any particular remark. Belle- Rose, 
 too glad to have thus escaped detection, and felicitating himself at 
 having avoided the observation of impertinent curiosity, retired to 
 his chamber, where he soon forgot in the arms of sleep the failure 
 of his nocturnal enterprise. 
 
 But when he awoke, at about nine o'clock, an unpleasant re- 
 miniscence returned to his memory, and caused him to make a 
 horrible grimace as his eye caught sight of a long slip of paper 
 lying upon the table. The day before — to the uncommon surprise 
 of the adventurer Belle-Rose, who " did not understand such 
 treatment towards a gentleman of rank," as he expressed himself 
 upon the occasion — the landlord of the hotel had had the impu- 
 dence, according to his guest's ideas, to present*" his bill for the 
 thirteenth time, and request immediate payment. Belle-Rose, who 
 had never thought of liquidating this long-standing account with 
 any of the various monies he had obtained by gambling, by 
 trickery, or at the hands of our hero and Mr. Robson, put off the 
 settlement till the next day ; and when the proprietor of the inn 
 protested against a repetition of such idle promises, the soi-disant 
 Count kicked him out of the room, and, by the same process, aided 
 him to descend the stairs somewhat quicker than he had mounted 
 them. The host was very indignant at such treatment, and threat- 
 ened to complain to a police magistrate ; but Belle-Rose pacified 
 his wrath, and pledged his honour " as a French nobleman," that 
 the bill should be duly paid on the following morning. 
 
 To procure funds for this purpose, the shameless fellow did not 
 hesitate to call once more upon De Rosann, to solicit that which 
 
OF A FRENCH GENTLFMAX. 207 
 
 he was pleased to dignify by the respectable appellation of loan 
 instead of gift. Alfred was not however at home ; and Belle- Rose 
 resolved to wait for him. He lounged in and out of the two 
 chambers which were occupied by our hero, and which communi- 
 cated with one another; and at length his eye caught sight of 
 Leblond's letter and Champignon's prospectus. He hastily perused 
 the former, and immediately resolved to essay a daring measure 
 to possess himself of the treasure entrusted to De Rosann. He 
 then glanced hastily on the latter, and laughed heartily at the 
 schemes of the gastronomer ; for he could not fail to recognise the 
 invention of Champignon's fertile genius, although the prospectus 
 purported to have been put forth by an individual bearing the 
 appellation of Citron, which, as our readers will please to recollect, 
 was the nom de guerre adopted by the " best cook in Europe" when 
 he opened his shop at St. Malo. 
 
 No sooner had Belle-Rose entertained the nefarious idea of robbing 
 De Rosann on the highway, during a journey which the waiter had 
 already informed the self-dubbed Count our hero projected, than 
 he resolved not to tarry any longer in expectation of Alfred's 
 return, he therefore immediately departed to lay the foundation of 
 the plan. Markham was easily gained over as an accomplice; 
 and another of their abandoned associates was enlisted in the same 
 service. The reader is already acquainted with the failure and 
 result of the scheme. 
 
 Scarcely had Belle-Rose completed a hasty toilet, when the 
 landlord entered his room, and requested the fulfilment of the 
 promise so solemnly given the day before. 
 
 " You are in a dreadful hurry, my worthy friend," said Belle- 
 Rose, recovering his presence of mind, and speaking with his usual 
 coolness : " cannot you wait till I have called upon my banker—-" 
 
 " That is the old excuse, M. d'Elsigny," returned the obstinate 
 landlord, evincing a dogged resolution not to be idly made the butt 
 of his guest's disposition for trifling any longer. 
 
 "How? the old excuse!" exclaimed Belle-Rose, affecting an 
 angry excitement which he did not feel ; " I went out yesterday 
 to fetch the money to liquidate my bill ; and falling in with my 
 friend Markham, I entirely forgot it." 
 
 " You have broken your word, then ; and a man of honour, as 
 you pretend to be, should avoid subjecting himself to an accusation 
 of telling an untruth." 
 
 " I have not broken my word — nor do I intend to do so," re- 
 turned Belle-Rose. " The character of the Count d'Elsigny must 
 never be impugned with impunity. I promised to settle your 
 account this morning. Before twelve o'clock the money shall be 
 produced in this very room." 
 
 " If I could rely upon your word — " 
 
 " Incredulous wretch !" exclaimed Belle-Rose, pretending to 
 get into a passion ; " go and draw the money yourself, if you 
 choose." 
 
 " I will trust you once more, M. d'Elsigny," cried the landlord, 
 scarcely knowing what step to take, and thinking that his noble 
 
208 ALFRED; OR ADVENTURES 
 
 guest could scarcely fail to fulfil a promise so solemnly given for 
 the fourteenth time, particularly when his honour " as a French 
 nobleman" was at stake. 
 
 " And you are a great fool for your pains," said Belle-Rose 
 when the proprietor of the hotel had left the room puffed up with 
 hopes as false as they were threadbare. 
 
 Belle- Rose rang the bell and ordered his breakfast. He made a 
 hearty meal, and then determined to do that which he had medi- 
 tated for some time past, and which sooner or later must inevitably 
 ha\ ., included his London career, viz. to decamp. Tn France a 
 Frenchman* can only be arrested upon a bill of exchange, made 
 payable at one town and drawn at another ; in England the liberty 
 of the subject was not lately so much regarded by the unsaintly 
 hand of the sheriff's officer. Belle-Rose knew this, and felt con- 
 vinced that the patience of his landlord was now nearly exhausted ; 
 he therefore put the little money he could command in his pocket, 
 made a bundle of a few shirts and other necessaries ; and envelop- 
 ing himself in his handsome cloak lined with sables, although the 
 morning was fine and sunny, he sallied forth to seek new adven- 
 tures, and return to his native land, declaring, as he bent his steps 
 towards* the Universal Coach Office in Piccadilly, u That after all. 
 France was the only country tit lor a gentleman to reside in !" 
 
 While the unsuspecting landlord was anxiously waiting for the 
 return of the soi-disant Count, as he had " a sum to make up," the 
 crafty Belle-Rose was comfortably seated on the outside of the 
 Eagle coach, on his way to Dovor, where he arrived without any 
 accident the same evening. At six o'clock the next morning he 
 embarked on board a sailing-vessel bound for Calais, the wind 
 being too high and the sea too boisterous to allow the steam-boats 
 to venture the transition. A f Calais he caused his passport to be 
 duly signed, according to the usual formalities, and secured a place 
 in the diligence for Abbeville, having already made up his mind 
 how to act in order to obtain a little supply of ready money to 
 commence his career once more at Paris. From Abbeville he 
 proceeded to Dieppe, thence to Havre-de-grace, and lastly to St. 
 Malo. Arrived at this latter town, he did not seek the purchased 
 hospitality of an hotel, but informed himself where dwelt " M. 
 Citron, Friandeur," and hastened to pay his respects to our worthy 
 friend Champignon. 
 
 It is impossible for a less able painter than a Hogarth or a 
 Cruikshank to delineate the curious face which the quiet gastro- 
 nomer put on when Belle-Rose entered his shop. He recolhcted 
 his visitor's uncommon appetite, and cast a sad look at the dainties 
 so invitingly spread out against the windows each side of the door. 
 But his naturally generous disposition triumphed over that mo- 
 mentary feeling of selfishness, and he welcomed Belle- Rose with 
 a cordiality even astonishing to the impudent and shameless ad- 
 venturer himself. The fatted calf was immediately killed — the 
 
 * A foreigner, not domiciled by act nor naturalized in France, can be arrested 
 for a book-debt ; but not upon the mere oath of the creditor, who is obliged to 
 prove the justice of his claim before a writ is granted. 
 
OF A FltENCH GENTLEMAN. 209 
 
 cloth was spread in the neat back parlour — the cotelettes a la 
 quadrille were produced to tempt the appetite of the newly-arrived 
 guest — and poor Champignon was amply rewarded in his own idea 
 by the extravagant praises bestowed upon his cookery. 
 
 " Here is to your health, my dear Citron," said Belle-Rose, 
 * since such be your name ; although, to confess the truth, I admire 
 your original one much more." 
 
 " A change was absolutely necessary, M. Belle-Rose," returned 
 the gastronomer, as he filled his own and his companion's glass with 
 marasquino. 
 
 " And pray, does your establishment prosper?" 
 
 " To my heart's content. There is not another shop like it in 
 St. Malo, I flatter myself," answered Champignon. 
 
 " Ah ! I am glad to hear such excellent news," cried Belle-Rose. 
 ** You know, my dear Cham — Citron, I always entertained a par- 
 ticular friendship for you ; and had it not been for my advice, your 
 fingers could never have touched the little bequest you received at 
 the hands of De Rosann." 
 
 " Allow me to return my most sincere thanks," said Champignon. 
 u And, while I think of our absent acquaintance, let me ask after 
 your friend De Rosann." 
 
 " Yes — he was my friend — my intimate friend, as you say. I left 
 him in London — enjoying himself — this marasquino is excellent — 
 flirting with the girls — another glass, if you please — and carrying 
 on a fine game — you may fill it up to the brim." 
 
 " I am rejoiced at these good tidings," exclaimed the gastro- 
 nomer, having recourse a third time to the stone bottle in which the. 
 racv liqueur was contained. 
 
 " It was not with the five hundred francs alone that you set up 
 this shop," said Belle-Rose after a pause, during which he savoured 
 the marasquino as if it were the nectar of the gods. 
 
 " Do you not recollect that I had a cousin in St. Malo, to whom 
 I once rendered important pecuniary assistance? I sought his aid 
 and advice, and I found him not only grateful for my bounty to- 
 wards him, but also willing to serve me. He lent me three thousand 
 francs — procured me unlimited credit — and assisted me to the 
 utmost of his power." 
 
 " You always have a little money in your till, then," said Belle- 
 Rose. 
 
 " Thank God ! my business is increasing daily," replied Cham- 
 pignon ; " and I have no reason to complain. ' 
 
 " If I only had a thousand francs," cried Belle-Rose, " I should 
 secure a rapid fortune." 
 
 " Indeed !" exclaimed the gastronomer : " how so V* 
 
 " By making rat-traps," returned Belle-Rose, affecting a se- 
 rious air. 
 
 " Rat-traps !" ejaculated Champignon, wno was very much 
 inclined to laugh. " There are already plenty of rat-traps in 
 France." 
 
 " O yes ! — common things — that hold each only one rat," said 
 Belle-Rose without relaxing from his well-assumed gravity. " I 
 
 27 
 
210 ALFRED: OB ADVENTURES 
 
 have obtained a patent in England for my invention of a rat-trap, 
 winch is not larger than the stone-bottle you hold in your hand, and 
 which can catch five and twenty rats at a time." 
 
 "Wonderful!" shouted Champignon. "Let us drink to th. 
 success of the rat-traps," he added, once more filling the glasses. 
 
 " And if I had a thousand francs to complete the necessary sum 
 to take out a patent in France, I should make my fortune. I have 
 already corresponded with the Ministers of Commerce and Public 
 Instruction on the subject ; and they have assured me of their 
 patronage." 
 
 " So small a sum is the utmost you require 1" cried Champignon. 
 
 " Every centime" answered the wily Belle-Rose ; " and the per- 
 son who would advance the money shall share in the profits." 
 
 " Nothing can be fairer," said Champignon, musing : then in a 
 few minutes he added, u I think I could accommodate you — M. 
 Belle-Rose — I am not a rich man — but I have certainly a few 
 francs to spajre — yes — I can lend you the money — and with plea- 
 sure too." 
 
 " My dearest Citron — let me embrace you!" exclaimed Belle- 
 Rose. " You have restored hope to my soul : the nation is swarm- 
 ing with rats, and I am sure of having a rapid sale for my traps. 
 Give me the money ; and this very minute will I commence my 
 labours." 
 
 The credulous Champignon opened his desk and counted a thou- 
 sand francs upon the table. Belle-Rose immediately conveyed the 
 glittering coin to his pockets ; and having embraced the generous 
 friend he was so grossly deceiving, the adventurer departed, 
 rejoiced at the success of his visit, while the gastronomer was 
 delighted at the prospect held out of reaping a considerable benefit 
 from the lucrative speculation. " Belle-Rose is a clever fellow," 
 said he to himself, when he was once more alone : " and before he 
 has done with them, there will not be a rat nor a mouse all over 
 the country." 
 
 As Belle-Rose issued from Champignon's shop, he encountered 
 Mr. Clayton, and immediately recognised him to be the gentleman 
 who accompanied the two ladies at Louis DorvaPs house, and who 
 had supplied De Rosann with a considerable sum of money. It 
 was a maxim of Belle-Rose never to lose any thing for want of 
 civility, nor for want of asking. He therefore saluted Mr. Clayton, 
 and made a remark relative to the weather, or some common-place 
 matter. 
 
 " I think I have had the pleasure of seeing you before," said 
 Mr. Clayton, acknowledging the adventurer's polite bow ; " but my 
 memory fails me as I grow older," he added with a smile. 
 
 Belle-Rose mentioned his name, and explained where they 
 had met ; and Mr. Clayton accidentally noticed that De Rosann 
 was in London. 
 
 " I came from England myself three days ago," said Belle-Rose ; 
 " and am not at all sorry to be back again in my native land. 
 The English are a — " he was going to say " a miserable, morose, 
 reserved people — " but recollecting Mr. Clayton was himself a sou 
 
OF A FRENCH GENTLEMA 211 
 
 of Albion, he corrected his unlucky allusion in time, and adopd 
 '• a hospitable, kind, and generous race ; but I am fond of the 
 laughter, mirth, and gaiety we meet in France." 
 
 " Did you see M. De Rosann in London ? or perhaps you ac- 
 companied him thither ? " said Mr. Clayton. 
 
 " We parted at St. Malo six or seven weeks ago," returned Belle- 
 Rose, " totally unaware of each other's intentions ; and we acci- 
 dentally encountered in the English metropolis. De Rosann went 
 by Southampton, and I by Calais, thence direct to London ; con- 
 sequently I arrived before him only a few hours." 
 
 " I expect him at St. Malo in a day or two," observed Mr. Clay- 
 ton. " He would doubtless have been here already, had not the 
 tempestuous weather most probably detained him at Southampton, 
 by which town he intended to return, according to the contents of 
 the last letter I received from him." 
 
 " He has left a sad heart behind him," said Belle-Rose, affecting 
 a melancholy tone. " Poor Selina Robson ! she doated upon our 
 friend with as sincere an affection as woman can demonstrate to- 
 wards man." 
 
 "What! did M. De Rosann make a conquest amongst my fair 
 countrywomen ?" exclaimed Mr. Clayton. 
 
 " Their love was reciprocal," returned Belle-Rose. " De Rosann 
 himself has assured me of their mutual attachment. He wore a 
 lock of her hair next to his heart— he passed his days in her so- 
 ciety, and his nights in dreaming of her : wherever Miss Selina 
 Robson was, you might be sure Alfred was not far off. At every 
 ball they danced together six or seven quadrilles consecutively ; 
 they walked out alone in the parks ; they wrote long letters to each 
 other, although they met every morning, and separated only in the 
 evening — " 
 
 "This is most singular !" cried Mr. Clayton, becoming consi- 
 derably interested in the lying narrative which Belle-Rose, who 
 was totally ignorant of De Rosann's attachment for Eloise, in- 
 vented as he told it, according to his usual system of exaggeration, 
 without any decided aim, save that of pretending to have an inti- 
 mate knowledge of the affairs of others, and to laugh at the cre- 
 dulity of his attentive listeners behind their backs. 
 
 " Oh ! yes — I assure you, that in the fashionable circles of the 
 West-end nothing was heard nor spoken of save the handsome 
 young Frenchman and the rich banker's daughter." 
 
 " Ah ! she was a rich banker's daughter, eh ? " said Mr. Clayton 
 with a bitter smile, as he cursed in his own mind the mercenary 
 soul that was capable of forgetting so pure a being as his niece, for 
 the temptations which a wealthy dower could offer. 
 
 " But their love was disappointed," continued Belle-Rose. 
 " De Rosann proposed — " 
 
 " He proposed," echoed Mr. Clayton. 
 
 " As I tell you," said Belle-Rose : " he proposed, and was re- 
 jected. The old people knew he had not a farthing, and that their 
 daughter's money was the only object which attracted him — still 
 the young lady was certainly very pretty — " 
 
212 AI^RED; OR ADVENTURES 
 
 " She was very pretty, eh ? " again interrupted the uncle. 
 
 *' A beautiful creature," returned Belle-Rose : " and between 
 ourselves — I have not the pleasure of knowing your name — De 
 Rosann is no bad judge. But, as I was saying, the old people 
 would not consent — a dreadful scene ensued — Miss Selina fainting, 
 and Alfred threatening to cut his throat. Even I, his best and 
 most intimate friend, his confidant throughout the whole aifair — 
 even I was unable to pacify him." 
 
 " Was he so much attached to her ?" 
 
 " He loved her certainly very sincerely — but he loved her money 
 more." 
 
 " And wherefore is he coming back to France ? " 
 
 " Because he has met with a repulse that he cannot easily 
 forget," answered Belle-Rose. 
 
 " Thank you for your information — for the news, M. Belle-Rose : 
 I wish you a veiy good afternoon :" and without waiting to give 
 the other an opportunity of returning his salutation, the wrathful 
 uncle turned abruptly away. 
 
 Nothing could exceed Mr. Clayton's indignation. He felt the 
 blow the more deeply, inasmuch as he fancied he had been the 
 innocent means of deluding his niece with false hopes, and of re- 
 plying to letters filled with perjury, deceit, and falsehood. De 
 Rosann, he thought, never could have loved Eloise save for 
 interested motives ; and he resigned her for the first wealthy young 
 lady he met. Now that his speculation with Miss Robson had 
 failed, he was doubtless about to return to France to prosecute his 
 suit in another quarter. But Mr. Clayton was determined he should 
 not succeed ; and he only repented not having listened to the 
 advice of his sister-in-law long ago. That Belle-Rose could have 
 so grossly deceived him, he did not for one moment suspect ; and he 
 returned home in a humour so singularly composed of disappoint- 
 ment, indignation, shame, and grief, that he knew not whether to 
 begin with a curse or a sigh. 
 
 Eloise and her mother were in the drawing-room, when Mr. 
 Clayton entered, and they both uttered an exclamation of alarm 
 at the same moment ; for his altered countenance wore so extraordi- 
 nary an expression, that they were fearful some accident had be- 
 fallen him. 
 
 " 'Tis all over ! " he cried, throwing his hat with violence on the 
 table, and flinging himself into a chair. " All confidence in man- 
 kind is for ever at an end. Were my own father alive and here to 
 tell me he would do so-and-so, I would not believe him." 
 
 " Good God ! William," cried Mrs. Clayton, " has any thing 
 happened?" 
 
 " De Rosann—" 
 
 " De Rosann — oh ! what of him ? " cried Eloise, her heart sink- 
 ing within her, for she anticipated some dreadful tidings relative to 
 her lover. 
 
 " De Rosann is a villain ! " cried Mr. Clayton in a voice of 
 thunder. 
 
 " Speak, uncle— speak ! what has he done ? Oh hasten and 
 
OF A FRENCH GENTLEMAN. 21.3 
 
 relieve my anxiety — my suspense ! " — and the poor girl burst into 
 an ao-ony of tears, while her bosom throbbed convulsively, and a 
 cold chill came over her like the icy touch of death. 
 
 " De Rosann has abused my confidence— has deceived me — has 
 deceived you, Eloise — has deceived the whole world," exclaimed the 
 enraged uncle. " He has paid his addresses to a young lady in 
 London — he has proposed — and he has been rejected. And now 
 that all his hopes in those quarters are at an end — now that his 
 absence has been productive of no good — he declares his intention 
 of returning to France — and will doubtless come to claim the hand 
 of his expectant bride ! " 
 
 " De Rosann faithless I " cried Eloise, suddenly raising her head, 
 and withdrawing the handkerchief from her eyes : «' O no — my 
 dear uncle— do not believe it. You have been deceived by slan- 
 derous tongues — evil reports have done him this wrong — I am con- 
 vinced, I will pledge my existence for his fidelity ! " 
 
 " Generous girl ! alas — that you should thus buoy yourself up 
 with vain hopes ! " exclaimed Mr. Clayton. " This moment only 
 have I left an individual who knows him well, who has been his 
 companion in London, who was his confidant throughout — " 
 
 « 'Tis false— all false ! " interrupted Eloise. " That individual 
 cannot be trust-worthy, since he so readily betrays the secrets of 
 his friend. But what is his name— his profession — his rank . ?" 
 
 " His name is Belle-Rose — and he was an associate with De 
 Rosann at Brest ! " returned Mr. Clayton. 
 
 " Do not credit his tale, then, uncle. He has some motives for 
 thus defaming an absent friend. You owe a duty to yourself— to 
 De Rosann — and to me," continued Eloise with a vehemence she 
 had never before used ; " and that duty is to listen to Alfred's 
 defence — to accuse him, and to demand proofs of his innocence : 
 and if he be unable to produce such proofs — if he be indeed the 
 faithless, perjured, heartless swindler he is represented— then re- 
 nounce, forget him— and I will eradicate his image from my breast, 
 although, in so doing, I break my lacerated heart ! " 
 
 " Eloise— dear Eloise, compose yourself," cried Mrs. Clayton, 
 terrified at the energy with which the unfortunate girl spoke, and 
 dreadfully disappointed at the fatal discovery she now made of 
 the permanence of her daughter's affection for De Rosann. 
 
 " Proofs are vain ; accusation and defence are alike useless," 
 said Mr. Clayton, obstinately determined not to question the vera- 
 city of Belle-Rose, because he deemed the evidence against De 
 Rosann too damning to admit of an easy refutation, and because 
 he felt himself so little in his own estimation at having been thus 
 duped by a boy. " Eloise, you must now nerve yourself to bear 
 the hour of trial : vour day-dreams of bliss are past ; the antici- 
 pated smiles of the future are turned to frowns ; and it is my 
 duty," he continued in an elevated tone of voice, " to protect my 
 relatives from insult — to remove them from a place where they 
 may be exposed to the impertinent apologies of a villain who will 
 doubtless seek, by specious tales, to delude you, Eloise, still far- 
 ther : it is my duty to protect you, I say, and I will do it. To- 
 
214 ALFRED; OR ADVENTURES 
 
 morrow morning, at eight o'clock, we leave St. Malo, on our return 
 to Paris." 
 
 " You are right, William," said Mrs. Clayton. 
 
 " No, dear uncle — stay, O, stay ! " cried Eloise, almost broken- 
 hearted : " believe me, De Rosann is innocent. Why will you 
 condemn him unheard ? Why listen to the falsities uttered by one 
 who is a stranger to you ? " 
 
 " Eloise," returned Mr. Clayton calmly ; " De Rosann's mys- 
 terious conduct in proceeding to England instead of to Paris, as I 
 advised him ; his long absence in London ; his continued evasions 
 to excuse his sojourn there before he enclosed a letter purported to 
 be written by an individual possessing the ability to obtain a full 
 pardon for him ; and the plain uncontradictory tale of that Belle- 
 Rose, whose confidence in me was certainly indiscreet, without 
 destroying the validity of the evidence ; all these circumstances 
 combined, form a fearful accusation against him whom I treated as 
 a friend — whom I loved as a son — O De Rosann — De Rosann ! " 
 
 And Mr. Clayton wiped away tears from his eyes. 
 
 Mr. Clayton was a man of violent prejudices. His present 
 hatred for De Rosann was as great as his former attachment. In- 
 dignation had so blinded him, that he would not listen to reason. 
 It was, therefore in vain that Eloise fell upon her knees to endea- 
 vour to dissuade him from his purposed departure. Unfortunately 
 her mother perfectly acquiesced in the designs of her brother-in- 
 law, and only supported his opi/iions with increasing warmth. The 
 wretched girl retired to her chamber and wept bitterly. Not for 
 one instant did she entertain the slightest suspicion of her lover's 
 treachery. She judged his mind and character by her own ; she 
 reflected that when he supposed himself to be wealthy and pros- 
 perous in his affairs, he demonstrated towards her every proof of a 
 sincere affection which could not have been interested ; and she 
 resolved to combat the accusations of her mother and uncle with 
 all the force of argument the emergency of the case might bring to 
 her aid. 
 
 In the midst of her sorrowful ruminations, an idea suddenly 
 struck her that animated her countenance with a smile ; and she 
 sate down to her desk and wrote a short note, which she carefully 
 sealed and placed in her bosom. When this was done, she felt 
 more tranquil, and suffered new hopes to enliven her spirits ; for 
 she remembered that De Rosann could write his justification — that 
 her uncle dared not compromise his character as a just man by 
 refusing to read it — and that they might still be happy. 
 
 On the following morning, as Eloise ascended the steps of the 
 carriage that was to bear her back to Paris, she slipped the note 
 into the hands of the porter of the house, and laid her finger upon 
 her rosy lip. The motion was understood and acknowledged by 
 an equally significant nod, to the inexpressible delight of our fair 
 heroine. 
 
OF A FRENCH ORNTLEMAX. 21.J 
 
 CHAPTER XXX. 
 
 LEBLOND. 
 
 De Rosann knocked at the door of the house which Mr. Clayton, 
 his sister-in-law, and niece, had left two days before. The porter 
 answered his summons, and informed him of the family's sudden 
 departure. Our hero remained for some moments rivetted to the 
 spot in stupid astonishment, unable to utter a word: and he was 
 only recalled to himself by the sight of a note which the porter 
 placed in his hands. He tore it open as if life and death were de- 
 pendant on the contents, and with a beating heart read the follow- 
 ing words : — 
 
 " Dearest Alfred, 
 
 "The tongue of calumny has prejudiced my uncle against 
 you, and made my mother still more resolute than ever to terminate 
 any engagement existing between us. I alone am convinced of 
 your constant fidelity, for I judge you by myself. A man, named 
 Belle-Rose, has poured the syllables of poison into the ears of Mr. 
 Clayton. He accuses you of paying your addresses to a banker's 
 daughter in London, and declares that you have met with a repulse. 
 Pardon me, dear Alfred, if I repeat the scandalous tale which I firmly 
 believe to be false. You must write to Mr Clayton, and refute such 
 vile aspersions on your character : for he is so indignant at your 
 supposed misconduct, that he would not listen to you were you to 
 demcnd an interview, to avoid which he has resolved to leave 
 St. Malo and return to Paris. Address your letter to our old apart- 
 ments, which we are to occupy again, in the Rue des Pyramides ; 
 and do not be alarmed at the suddenness of our departure. The 
 obstacle will be easily surmounted—Mr. Clayton cannot refuse to 
 read your defence — and he is not unjust, nor deaf to the voice of 
 reason, when his passions have had time to cool, and his wrath is 
 moderated. 
 
 " Believe me, my dear Alfred, 
 
 " Ever your most affectionate 
 
 " Eloise Clayton." 
 
 " Noble girl — generous disposition ! " exclaimed Alfred, care- 
 fully folding up the letter and placing it next to his heart. He 
 then remunerated the porter, who smiled significantly, as if he were 
 aware that the tender note related to a love-affair : but our hero 
 did not stay to notice the man's animated countenance, nor the 
 polite bows he made in return for the fifteen francs he had so easily 
 earned. 
 
 Disappointed, but far from despairing, De Rosann returned to 
 the inn ; and, notwithstanding the fatigues of travelling which he 
 had already endured, he ordered a post-chaise to be got ready 
 immediately. The services of four horses were this time put m 
 
216 Alfred; or adventures 
 
 requisition ; and Alfred found himself on his road to Pans, while 
 the landlord declared " That positively of all the obstinately head- 
 strong young men he had ever accidentally seen, none could be 
 feasibly compared to the indubitably mad-brained youth who had 
 instantaneously quitted his hotel, without even prudently giving 
 himself absolutely the time to enjoy comfortably an elegantly 
 arranged repast." 
 
 As the weather was hot, and the roads were not exceedingly 
 dusty, De Rosann had ordered the carriage to be opened, by 
 lowering the top : he could thus command a view of the surround- 
 ing country as he journeyed onwards to the French capital. About 
 a league from St. Malo he espied a man mounted upon a donkey, 
 and endeavouring to force the poor animal into a gallop — a pace 
 which apparently in no way suited the sober ideas of the obstinate 
 beast, for he suddenly lifted up his heels and threw the luckless 
 rider over his head. Our hero instantly recognised Champignon, 
 and cried out to the postillions to stop for a moment. The gastro- 
 nomer slowly raised himself from the ground, and cast a timid 
 glance at the person seated in the carriage ; but the instant he 
 noticed De Rosann, he rushed forward, and gave him such a hearty 
 shake of the hand, that Alfred was obliged to beseech him to re- 
 lax his iron grasp. 
 
 " Can I really believe my own eyes ? — is it indeed you, M. De 
 Rosann ? or are you dead, and does your ghost wander about these 
 parts, like a spectre in a church-yard ?" cried Champignon, over- 
 joyed at thus encountering his late benefactor. 
 
 " 'Tis really I myself," answered Alfred, with a smile. " But 
 wherefore do you ride on an animal whose stubbornness you can- 
 not overcome ?" 
 
 " The fact is/' said Champignon, " that I am an excellent horse- 
 man ; but I cannot maintain my seat on a jack-ass." 
 
 " I am afraid you will never be a Franconi,* Champignon." 
 
 " Call me Citron, if you please," whispered the gastronomer. 
 
 " Ah ! I recollect your prospectus," said our hero. " Mr. Clay- 
 ton forwarded the parcel to me in London, and I did not fail to 
 make known your scheme to my friends." 
 
 " I thank you all the same ; but I have renounced the idea of 
 establishing my joint-stock company," observed Champignon, 
 mournfully. 
 
 " And wherefore, might I enquire ?" 
 
 " Because the individuals at a certain place in a certain town 
 could not pay their subscriptions : and my cousin dissuaded me 
 from the enterprise." 
 
 " He did perfectly right. But tell me — have you not seen 
 Belle- Rose at St. Malo?" demanded Alfred. 
 
 The gastronomer instantly related all that passed between him- 
 self and the individual in question, whom he had not seen since 
 the day the thousand francs were counted down upon the table. 
 De Rosann thanked Champignon for the information, assured him 
 
 * The French Ducroiv. 
 
OF A FRENCH GENTLEMAN. 217 
 
 that Belle-Rose was nothing more than a common cheat, and bade 
 him adieu with many kind wishes in favour of his speedy success 
 in business. The postillions whipped their .horses, Champignon 
 mounted his donkey, and the two equipages separated to pursue 
 their respective directions. 
 
 De Rosann was at a loss to conceive whether Belle-Rose had 
 purposely or inadvertently calumniated him in the presence of 
 Mr. Clayton. He did not think his ancient companion was of a 
 malignant disposition : but he knew full well that Belle-Rose 
 seldom opened his lips without uttering an untruth, or exaggerating 
 a trifle till it became an affair of importance. Our hero was more- 
 over aware that Belle-Rose did not know of the engagement sub- 
 sisting between him and Eloise — unless, indeed, Mr. Clayton had 
 informed him of it during this last visit of the chevalier (f Industrie 
 to St. Malo. He however persuaded himself that the evil was not 
 irreparable ; he buoyed himself up with the hopes held out by 
 Eloise in her letter ; and he again satisfactorily contemplated the 
 numerous advocates in his favour which he had lately accumu- 
 lated. 
 
 Our readers may readily suppose that on De Rosann's arrival at 
 Meurice's hotel in Paris, the first step he took towards a recon- 
 ciliation with Mr. Clayton, was to obey the injunctions of Eloise, 
 and write a long letter to the incensed uncle, explaining the cir- 
 cumstances which were connected with Selina, and of which we 
 have given full and ample accounts in preceding chapters. He 
 detailed undisguisedly the confessions of that unfortunate girl — 
 minutely narrated every step he took in the disagreeable and 
 embarrassing position her love placed him in — and concluded his 
 defence by requesting Mr. Clayton to seek a corroboration from 
 Selina herself, and to inquire of Mr. Robson if he had ever been 
 applied to for his consent to the marriage of De Rosann and his 
 daughter. Alfred annexed to his letter the address of the worthy 
 banker, and implored Mr. Clayton to lose no time in writing to 
 obtain a satisfactory reply that might lead to a rectification of the 
 misunderstanding, and do a calumniated individual a justice but 
 too well merited. He did not, however, explain any other of his 
 adventures, being still resolved to reserve for himself the pleasure 
 of producing an agreeable surprise when his character in Mr. 
 Clayton's estimation should be re-established — an event to which 
 he looked forward with the utmost impatience. Having concluded 
 his lengthy epistle, he carried it himself to the Rue des Pyramides, 
 and was rejoiced to find that the family had returned to the 
 lodgings it formerly occupied ere change of air and scenery was 
 recommended to Eloise, and caused the removal to St. Malo. 
 
 Having thus obeyed the dictates of his own judgment as well as 
 the advice of Eloise, our hero hastened to discharge another im- 
 portant duty ; and he lost no time in proceeding to the Rue de la 
 Chanoinesse with the bills and other effects he had been autho- 
 rised to receive for the mysterious Leblond. 
 
 Our hero alighted from a cabriolet, which he had hired, opposite 
 a gloomy house in the Rue de la Chanoinesse, and enquired for 
 
 23 
 
218 ALFRED: OR ADVENTURES 
 
 the individual whom he sought. According to the directions of 
 the porter, he mounted a narrow stair-case, and knocked at a door 
 on the second story. An old woman admitted him to a dirty 
 apartment, enquired his business, and without saying another 
 word left him alone a good half-hour to his reflections. When 
 his patience was more than exhausted, she again made her appear- 
 ance, and desired him to follow her. He obeyed the command, 
 somewhat sulkily given, and was introduced to a species of office, 
 or study, where sate a middle-aged man busily employed in writing 
 at a desk. The old woman motioned our hero to be seated, and 
 retired on tip-toe, as if she were afraid of disturbing her master. 
 
 It will be recollected that when Leblond spoke to De Rosann and 
 Belle-Rose through the guichet of the cachot at Verneuil, the night 
 was dark, and all objects were indistinguishable. Alfred did not 
 therefore know whether he were now in the presence of Leblond or 
 a stranger. But he was not long kept in suspense. The person 
 at the desk soon laid aside his pen, and turned towards our hero, 
 who sate impatiently on his chair, awaiting the moment when he 
 was to give an account of the commission with which he had been 
 charged. 
 
 " M. Alfred De Rosann, I believe," said the man of business. 
 
 " The same," returned our hero ; " and you are M. Leblond, I 
 presume." 
 
 ** You are right. Have you received my last letter, in which I 
 requested you to become the bearer of certain effects — " 
 
 " I have executed your orders to the best of my endeavour," 
 returned De Rosann, interrupting the other, and laying a quantity 
 of papers upon the desk. 
 
 " You have been zealous and diligent in the cause," said Le- 
 blond, with a gracious smile, as he cast a hasty glance over the 
 bills which Alfred had brought from London ; " and be assured 
 that an ample reward will not be lacking to recompense you for 
 your services." 
 
 " I have already experienced many kindnesses at your hands," 
 cried De Rosann ; " and I return you my most sincere thanks for 
 the royal pardon you condescended to procure me." 
 
 " Speak not of such a trifle : your gratitude will shortly be put 
 to a more severe test than perhaps you imagine. The time is 
 nearly at hand when you must prove that benefits are not thrown 
 away upon you, and that you can be trusted in affairs much more 
 important than the one already confided to you." 
 
 *' Show me my duties — point out a means by which I can 
 demonstrate my gratitude, and I shall not be found backward in 
 serving those to whom I am under a thousand obligations. But 
 wherefore this reserve?" exclaimed De Rosann : " wherefore — " 
 
 " Seek not as yet to be acquainted with . mysteries I dare not 
 develop. Recollect that I am only an agent — that I do not even 
 myself know the entire arcana which you are desirous should be ex- 
 posed to your view, and that I am subservient to higher authorities, 
 whose mandates I cannot disobey. Even in my own dwelling— in 
 this room where we are now talking — would my life be taken from 
 
OF A FRENCH GENT LB MA , 219 
 
 me, if I betrayed the little entrusted to me. The very walls of 
 Paris have ears — spies are in every quarter ; you think you con- 
 verse with a common acquaintance in a cafe, or a news-room, and 
 your words are repeated again ; thence are your actions judged. 
 As I informed you in my letter, the moment when you are to act 
 for those who have befriended you, will proclaim its own arrival — 
 will denote by terrible signs its own presence. Wait patiently, 
 therefore — that moment may be in an hour— to-morrow — or a year 
 hence." 
 
 " It would be indelicate for me to question you farther," said 
 De Rosann, considerably disappointed at the probable result of his 
 visit, which instead of explaining only increased the mystery he 
 was so anxious to penetrate. " You have no farther commands 
 for me at present." 
 
 " None," returned Leblond. " But before you depart, allow me 
 to ask you a few questions, and do not deem them impertinent." 
 
 •' Speak! I shall answer your interrogations with pleasure." 
 
 " You have no idea of entering into business a second time?" 
 
 " Not the slightest. I am totally unfitted for commercial trans- 
 actions ; they neither suit my taste nor my ability." 
 
 " Nor do you intend to embrace any profession ?" 
 
 " Decidedly not. I am perhaps on the eve of marriage — at 
 least, I hope so — and shall therefore become a peaceable citizen." 
 
 " Have you any private resources of your own?" enquired Le- 
 blond. 
 
 " I lalely inherited a considerable sum of money," replied our 
 hero. 
 
 " You intend to reside in Paris for the present?" 
 
 " Yes ; particularly as it is uncertain when my services may be 
 required," answered Alfred, alluding to his present companion's 
 own words. 
 
 " Good !" cried Leblond, rising from his seat. " I am obliged 
 to you for the frankness with which you have replied to my queries, 
 and again repeat that you will not go unrewarded, if you continue 
 to evince the same zealous disposition in the cause of patrons 
 whose power, whose authority, and whose means are extensive, 
 although as yet invisible." 
 
 " Might I be allowed to ask if Belle-Rose be still engaged in 
 the same service?" said De Rosann, after a momentary pause. 
 
 " He is," returned Leblond, casting his eye over one of the 
 pages of a ponderous book, on which was written an immense 
 number of names, with the professions, abodes, and resources of 
 the individuals thus inscribed on the leaves of the vast folio. 
 *' And, if I mistake not," added Leblond, once more referring to 
 the book, " he is at this moment in Paris. But perhaps you have 
 seen him?" 
 
 " No ; I asked for information," remarked De Rosann, *' and 
 to have an opportunity of advising you to beware of him ; for 
 there is no meanness, baseness, nor treachery, of which he is not 
 capable." 
 
 " Bat he cannot cheat us," answered Leblond, with a peculiar 
 
£20 ALFRED ; OR ADVENTURES 
 
 emphasis : " he dare not, even if he wished and had the power to 
 deceive your masters and mine." 
 
 De Rosann had nothing to reply to this assurance ; he accordingly 
 took his leave of Leblond, and returned to Meurice's hotel, where 
 he shut himself up in his room to ponder on the conversation that 
 had taken place during the interview with the mysterious agent of 
 mysterious superiors. 
 
 But it was in vain that he endeavoured to fix his sole thoughts 
 upon that topic : the image of the beautiful Eloise perpetually 
 intervened, and changed the current of his ideas. He could never 
 sufficiently admire the generous disposition of the heroic girl, that 
 refused to listen to the calumniating tongues which were anxious 
 to asperse the character of her lover, and separate them for ever. 
 He called to mind all her former tenderness and unquestionable 
 attachment when, in an hour of peril and distress, he was the inmate 
 of a gloomy dungeon. Now that Fortune smiled upon him, and 
 Prosperity, with a bland countenance, seemed to beckon him for- 
 ward to eventual success, he was determined to evince his gratitude 
 and unchangeable affection to his beloved Eloise, and devote every 
 instant of his time to promote her felicity, so soOn as he could 
 obtain a legal right to declare himself her protector and friend. 
 And he felt that he should be proud in presenting such a faultless 
 bride to the numerous acquaintances who would soon flock round 
 him, when the tongue of fame had proclaimed his return to Paris, 
 Lis innocence, his pardon, and his independence. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXI. 
 
 THE CITIZENS OF PARIS. 
 
 Be Rosann passed a restless night. His mind was too much 
 agitated by a variety of conflicting ideas to allow sleep to visit his 
 eyes. He tossed backwards and forwards on his slumberless pillow, 
 at one moment pondering on the mysterious conduct of Leblond, 
 at another on the noble behaviour of Eloise. He would then 
 blame himself for not having made her uncle acquainted with 
 every thing that had happened to him since they last met— the 
 particulars relative to the documents of the deceased Marquis de 
 Denneville, the dying request of La Motte, and the pardon that 
 had been procured for him through the influence of his secret 
 patrons. In five minutes a complete reaction took place in our 
 hero's opinions. He applauded himself for having withheld those 
 important communications, and felt certain that his defence, and 
 an application to Mr. Robson by letter, would terminate the whole 
 affair in his favour. He moreover recollected that some considera- 
 tion was due to his own pride, and that he was not to be idly 
 accused by every scandalous tongue, nor to be condemed without 
 explanation by a prejudiced judge. On these reflections would 
 intrude the idea that he ought to make any sacrifice to forward his 
 
OF A FRENCH fiUNTLFMAN. 2t?l 
 
 suit with Eloise, and to give pleasure to one who promised to be a 
 powerful advocate in his cause. 
 
 So early as seven o'clock, did De Rosann leave his feverish couch ; 
 and having partaken of a hasty meal, he sought the fresh air to 
 dissipate a partial headache, which want of sleep had most pro- 
 bably caused. Meurice's hotel was then in the Rue St. Honore. 
 Our hero directed his steps towards the fashionable quarter of 
 Paris ; and having traversed the Place Vendome, he gained the 
 Boulevards by the Rue de la Paix. The morning was fine — the 
 rays of a jovial sun gilded the thousand towers of the sovereign 
 city of Europe ; and all nature seemed blythe and gay. The shops 
 were already opened ; but it appeared to our hero, as he advanced 
 along the shady walk which surrounds so considerable a portion 
 of the gay city, that an unusual number of people for such an hour 
 was abroad. At length he noticed many with anxious faces — others 
 bustling backwards and forwards from one house to another — some 
 assuming important airs of mystery — groups here and there 
 gathered together in earnest conversation — a few carrying news- 
 papers in their hands, and stopping their acquaintances to point 
 out a particular paragraph — all this struck De Rosann as singular 
 and alarming. 
 
 When he arrived at the Porte St. Martin, he turned to retrace 
 his steps — and the mystery, the bustle, and the agitation were still 
 the same. Some had smiles upon their countenances — others 
 showed evident signs of terror ; one spoke to his neighbour in a 
 tone of energy and vehemence ; a second listened with mouth half 
 open and staring eyes ; a third rubbed his hands together, as if he 
 were satisfied at a particular occurrence ; a fourth endeavoured to 
 repress the swaggering air of the individual with whom he was 
 conversing ; a fifth cast anxious looks around ; in fine, it was but 
 too evident that the public spirit was labouring under a strong 
 excitement, the cause of which was an enigma our hero could not 
 solve. A secret presentiment of foreboding evil took possession of 
 his mind. He felt an agitation suddenly seize upon him, and he 
 endeavoured in vain to account for it. He experienced little dread 
 as to the eventual success of his suit with Eloise ; his property was 
 safe; his person appeared in no danger; and yet he was uneasy. 
 He seemed to draw his breath with difficulty as he walked along ; 
 he saw not things as they usually were ; a change was perceptibly 
 taking place, but a change of what he could not determine. Paris 
 wore an air of confusion, dismay, and alarm ; the atmosphere, that 
 hung over her nead, appeared pregnant with a storm about to 
 burst ; the looks of her citizens, as they walked or stood in the 
 streets, were foreboding and prophetic. Still our hero was at a 
 loss to imagine how those looks were foreboding, and the nature of 
 the events they had the air of prophesying. He essayed to per- 
 suade himself that all was calm and tranquil as usual, and that a 
 disordered imagination tortured things into unnatural shapes. But 
 he could not satisfy his mind that it was an illusion — he was no 
 Pyrrhonian — he confounded not ideas and matter --he saw strange 
 sights, and he believed in their existence. 
 
222 ALFRED ; OR ADVENTURES 
 
 He walked with a rapid, though uneven step, and at length 
 arrived opposite to Tortoni's. At nine o'clock in the morning 
 there are generally very few loungers outside. Tbe politicians 
 discuss their newspaper with their breakfast in the gilded salons ; 
 the speculator, the banker, the discounter, and the correspondents 
 of the Times, Advertiser, Herald, Post, and Chronicle, do not throng 
 opposite the door, and form into separate groups, till later. But 
 De Rosann saw that they had already arrived — that the speculator 
 had left his accounts, the banker his warm bed, the discounter his 
 cabriolet, in which he visited the merchants or tradesmen with 
 whom he did business, and the correspondent of the English jour- 
 nals had deserted his desk. They were gathered into separate 
 knots ; each knot appeared to have a spokesman to explain some- 
 thing of vital importance to the rest ; and the others listened with 
 attention. They conversed in low whispers, as if afraid that the 
 very walls should hear their opinions ; they cast frequent glances 
 of uneasy anxiety around, fearful of being overheard by one who 
 would betray them. And yet the topic of their conversation was 
 generally known. De Rosann marked the air of agitation, the 
 gaze of astonishment, the attitude of resignation, the smile of 
 incredulity, the laugh of assurance, the glow of pride, the shudder 
 of cowardice, the silence of conviction, the noise of doubt, and the 
 tranquillity of hope. Every passion, every feeling was there 
 excited : the signs were ominous and alarming:. 
 
 De Rosann became more and more curious to ascertain the cause 
 of this extraordinary excitement. He ascended the steps that lead 
 to the front parlour of Tortoni's cafe, and seated himself at a table. 
 The waiter desired to know what he would take. Our hero hesi 
 tated — his mind was in a state of confusion — he had already break 
 fasted— and he ordered breakfast a second time in the agitation of 
 the moment. The only person who appeared indifferent to what 
 was going on, was the female seated at the bar. De Rosann 
 approached her, made a polite bow, and requested to be informed 
 of the causes of the mysterious behaviour he noticed in every one 
 save herself. The female did not answer a word, but took a news- 
 paper from a shelf, and placed it in Alfred's hands. He thanked 
 her, returned to his seat, and cast his eyes over the journal, doubt- 
 ful whether his question had been understood. It was the Moniteur 
 of the day before — the twenty-sixth of July, 1830 ; and the first 
 words that attracted De Rosann's attention, after a cursory glance, 
 w T ere those ever memorable ones — " The freedom of the periodical 
 press is suspended .'"* 
 
 There was at once an explanation of all he had seen, and all he 
 had deemed unaccountable. From his palace of St. Cloud the rash 
 monarch issued those terrible mandates that were to pave the way 
 for the overthrow of his dynasty, place another upon the throne, 
 and cast his ministers into a prison. The royal tyrant, in his 
 insolent pride, deemed that the sons of France were to be trampled 
 under foot, and to bow the knee to his majesty in blind idolatry. 
 De Rosann scarcely believed his sight — he gazed a second time at 
 * La Liberie de la presse perh dique est mspenduel 
 
OF A FRKNCH GENTLEMAN. 223 
 
 the journal lie held in his hand, and still the official column com- 
 menced with the same words — the Gazette declared the privilege 
 of recording public opinions to be suddenly withdrawn. Hence 
 those diversified feelings expressed upon different countenances ; 
 hence those anxious glances, those furtive looks, those timid whis- 
 perings. But the popular fury soon broke forth : astonishment 
 yielded to indignation, indignation to cries of " Liberty," and the 
 crown trembled upon the head of the imprudent Charles. Like 
 the fluid communicated by the chains of a galvanic battery, 
 flew the spirit of rebellion ; an oppressed people arose to combat 
 for its rights and for its privileges ; the tri-coloured flag was 
 hoisted from many a window; the tri-coloured cockade was 
 attached to many a cap ; De Rosann now guessed the meaning of 
 me watch-word he had whispered in the ear of Plombier ; all 
 mystery was dispelled; he was one of the chosen partizans of 
 the original agitators ; and, according to his promise to Leblond, 
 he seized a musket and a sword, and enrolled himself amongst the 
 ranks of those who fought for their rights against the evil devices 
 of tyranny and oppression ! 
 
 For three days the combat raged with sanguinary violence. The 
 trees of the Boulevards were cut down to form barricades against 
 the approach of the cavalry regiments which still supported the 
 Bourbon cause ; and when the citizens lacked arms and ammuni- 
 tion, they tore up the pavement to hurl at their opponents. From 
 every winaow was pointed a deadly weapon of some kind : old 
 men, young maidens, infants, and feeble women lent their aid to 
 repel the royalists. Many a widow avenged her slaughtered 
 husband's massacre— many a veteran, with hoary locks and wrinkled 
 brow, laid aside the staff that for years had supported his tottering 
 limbs, and brandished the glittering sword. The tri-coloured ban- 
 ner waved in all directions — cries of " Freedom !" echoed on every 
 side ; and the rash monarch repented his audacity when too late. 
 
 De Rosann became the leader of a gallant band of young heroes, 
 chiefly students and gentlemen of fortune, who were rejoiced at this 
 opportunity of displaying their patriotism, and of combatting in 
 the cause of their country's liberties. They formed a squadron of 
 daring warriors, and rushed upon the mounted foemen with the 
 courage of lions joining in deadly strife. Where the extremities of 
 the Rue cle la Paix and the Rue Neuve Saint Augustin join the 
 Boulevards, did they combat long and manfully against the detach- 
 ment of cavalry that opposed them. Bairicades were formed to 
 repulse the royalists, and De Rosann's band every moment gained 
 ground as their foemen retreated. The skirmishing fight lasted till 
 the little squad of heroes drove the lancers as far as the gates of the 
 noble dwelling occupied by Prince Polignac himself, the Minister 
 of Foreign Affairs. Thither did the defeated cavalry retreat ; and 
 De Rosann and his band dared follow them no longer ; for their 
 eyes caught sight of the massive ordnance which was drawn up in 
 terrible array opposite the house of the prime minister, and on the 
 side of the Madeleine that faces the extremity of the Boulevard, 
 Between those two points, there was not a soul, save the artillery* 
 
22 4 Alfred; or adventures 
 
 men standing with lighted matches close to their cannon. De Ro- 
 sann saw that it was madness to advance any farther; he accordingly 
 ordered a retreat; and placing himself at the head of his companions, 
 he led them to encounter fresh adversaries. 
 
 The civil strife was terrible in the extreme. Fathers fought with 
 their sons in the respective ranks of the confused battle — uncles 
 combatted hand to hand against their nephews — cousins, expecting 
 to find each other serving under the same banners, encountered on 
 opposite sides, and did not tarry to expostulate, but directed their 
 deadly weapons each to the heart of his relative. Thus parricides 
 and fratricides were not wanting to crown the cup of general misery 
 — bloodshed, murder, and strife afforded a rich banquet to the 
 vultures of slaughter. The streets were encumbered with dead 
 bodies — horses and men fell together wounded on the ground— the 
 stones, which the citizens tore from the streets, rained like torrents 
 of hail upon the ranks of the royalists — servant fought against 
 master — the dependant opposed his benefactor — the student lifted 
 the gleaming sword over the head of his tutor — the pupil heeded 
 not the lamentable cries of his master — school-boy, collegian, ap- 
 prentice, mixed in the commotion, and either excited the tumult by 
 their shouts, or aided their brethren in the fight. 
 
 When the officers and dependants of Charles the Tenth were ex- 
 pelled by the incensed populace from all the public buildings, the 
 revolutionary mob took possession of the Tuileries, the Hotel of the 
 Ministry of "Finance, the Bank of France, and other government 
 institutions : and it is a well- substantiated fact that the most indi- 
 gent and poverty-stiicken of the sentries placed in different direc- 
 tions, not only refrained from touching a jewel of the smallest value, 
 but also threatened to put to death any one who attempted to take 
 advantage of the tumult, and appropriate the wealth he might find 
 in the palace of the Tuileries to his own use. On the first day of 
 the revolution, an immense sum of money arrived in Paris from 
 M. Rothschild's house in London. It was packed up in a cart, and 
 was accompanied by a trust-worthy individual of the name of 
 Atkins from Calais. ' Mr. Atkins entered Paris without the slightest 
 suspicion of the sudden tumult that had arisen in the city ; and it 
 was not till he found it impossible to recede, that the real state of 
 affairs was communicated to him. He nevertheless proceeded 
 strait to the Bank of France ; and although he was surrounded 
 by the lowest of the low— although he passed through a miserable 
 set of beings, half naked— half starved as they were, not a hand 
 was stretched out against the tempting treasure, — not a glance 
 betokened an evil design — not a gesture threatened its security.* 
 Poverty was forgotten — hunger was disregarded during those event- 
 ful days. The French fought for liberty^ and notfor gain,— they 
 did not make the principles of a glorious insurrection an excuse for 
 pillage and licentiousness. Paris was crowded with dead bodies — 
 but they all fell in the cause of valour, whichever banner they had 
 fought under. No robbery, no rape, no misdemeanor of any kind 
 sullied that revolution, nor did it prepare a throne for a Robe- 
 spierre and a Napoleon. 
 
 * Fact : me ipso teste.— -G-W. M. R. 
 
OF A FRENCH GENTLEMAN. 225 
 
 It was a glorious sight to see heroes fighting in a righteous 
 cause. Paris had awakened from a profound stupor — the people 
 w ere wearied of languishing beneath a tyrant's rod — the watch- 
 word had been passed round — and thousands came forward to hoist 
 the tri-coloured flag. There was but little indecision after the ap- 
 pearance of that royal mandate, which threatened to reduce a 
 mighty nation to the lowest abyss of slavery. The flame of the 
 revolution broke out in two or three places at the same time ; and 
 De Rosann was one of those who comprehended the reason of so 
 sudden and simultaneous an insurrection. Seventy-two short 
 hours would not have sufficed to cast off chains artfully woven, and 
 craftily thrown round a million of men, had not preparations and 
 resolutions how to act been primarily thought of and planned 
 Hundreds of strangers were in the ranks of the insurgents ; in- 
 habitants of distant towns were on the spot to aid the popular cause ; 
 and the visage of many a notorious character was recognised by 
 the police in the heat of the battle. The refuse of society — the 
 lowest of the low — the escaped criminal, the undetected malefactor, 
 the lurking thief, the daring adventurer, and the insolent beggar, 
 all forgot their separate avocations, and joined in the general shout 
 of " Liberty ! liberty !" 
 
 Foremost in the ranks of the revolutionists, De Rosann recog- 
 nised Leblond. That mysterious agent of the vast intrigues which 
 had accomplished the events now bought about, gave a significant 
 nod to our hero — and when a sudden movement brought them near 
 each other, he cried, in a triumphant tone, " Did I not prophesy 
 truly, M. De Rosann ? Has not the glorious moment proclaimed its 
 own presence ?" And without waiting for a reply, he again bran- 
 dished the gory weapon of death which he held in his hand, and 
 rushed upon the royal cohorts with demoniac courage. 
 
 It must not be imagined that our hero forgot his beloved Eloise 
 in the din, the excitement, and the danger of battle. Often did he 
 tremble for her safety ; and when on the morning of the third day 
 he understood that the strife was bloody and well-maintained in the 
 Rue des Pyramides, and in all the immediate neighbourhood of the 
 Tuileries, he felt his heart sink within him; for thousands had 
 already paid dearly for a rash curiosity, and had been killed at 
 their very windows by the musquetry of the soldiers or the random 
 shots of the citizens. Towards the quarter where Eloise dwelt with 
 her mother and uncle, did De Rosann hasten, followed by the little 
 band that placed itself under his guidance. He cast an anxious 
 glance towards the windows of the apartments which he well re- 
 membered, and to his inexpressible delight he saw that the white 
 Venetian blinds were fast closed. His mind felt relieved of a con- 
 siderable weight ; and he turned his attention to the surrounding 
 warfare. 
 
 The civil conflict raged in that quarter with terrible violence. 
 The street was entirely divested of pavement — the marks of the 
 miivket-balis may be seen at the present moment upon the pillars 
 of the colonnades and the walls of the houses. At the corner of 
 the Rue St. Honore, a handful of revolutionists combatted valianth 
 
 29 
 
226 ALFRED ; OR ADVENTURES 
 
 against an overpowering military force. De Rosann hurried to the 
 assistance of the gallant squadron ; and, to his surprise, discovered 
 that it was headed by Belle-Rose, who fought like a lion, despe- 
 rately and bravely. His left arm hung useless by his side — his 
 left cheek displayed a ghastly wound — and his clothes were covered 
 with dripping gore. Still did his right hand wield the glittering 
 sword, and deal slaughter around. Our hero himself was astonished 
 at the extraordinary magnanimity of one whom he fancied too 
 much devoted to existence to risk it in a cause that would not even- 
 tually much benefit an adventurer accustomed to live upon his wuts. 
 But Belle-Rose was a Frenchman in the true spirit of the word 
 — and when once excited, he forgot everything save glory and 
 renown. 
 
 De Rosann's aid arrived too late. Combatting against fearful 
 odds, and pierced by a multitude of weapons — covered with honour- 
 able wounds, Belle-Rose became gradually weak and faint — his 
 sight was suddenly dimmed — his brain was confused — he struck 
 feeble and harmless blows at random — and at length fell in a state 
 of insensibility into the arms of his former companion. A feeling 
 of commiseration took possession of our hero's breast. He knew 
 not whither .to bear the dying man — he could not leave him to ex- 
 pire in the street, and perhaps to be trampled upon ere the vital 
 spark should have left his body. Irresolute how to act, he drew 
 the almost inanimate Belle-Rose away from the heat of the battle, 
 and deposited him beneath the colonnade which runs on each side 
 of the Rue des Pyramides. There he halted and turned round as 
 if to seek a place of security whither he could carry his burthen. 
 The wicket of a large gate or porte-cochere was open; and he had 
 accidentally stopped before it. He gazed wistfully into the yard 
 behind — and immediately recognised the house where the Claytons 
 resided. He did riot hesitate another moment, but dragged the 
 still senseless form he protected to the porter's lodge, and hastily 
 recommended the dying man to the care of an old woman whom he 
 found there. She was busily engaged in rehearsing her prayers, 
 when Alfred thus unceremoniously interrupted her devotions. The 
 pious portress— for she it was herself — instantly rose from her 
 knees, and obeyed De Rosann's commands ; she recollected his 
 handsome countenance, and was moreover humane in her disposi- 
 tion. Alfred enquired if Miss Clayton were in good health ; and 
 having received satisfactory replies to that and other questions 
 which he put to the old woman relative to his adored Eloise, he re- 
 commended Belle-Rose to the especial care of the kind portress ; 
 and once more returned to take the lead of his gallant followers. 
 
 In the meantime, the portress examined the wounds of the indi- 
 vidual confided to her charge, and succeeded in bringing him back 
 to partial recollection. A faint animation excited his pulse, and 
 gave tokens of a feeble existence not- yet past away, but soon to 
 evaporate. She placed him upon a bed, and opened her drawers 
 to seek for rags, to staunch the blood that flowed from many places 
 at the same time. But either she had not the linen she looked for, 
 or else the confusion and adtation of her ideas so bewildered her 
 
i 
 
 \£)#zd^ 
 
 sy c k < 
 
OF A FRENCH GENTLEMAN. 227 
 
 senses, that she could not find a single morsel. In this dilemma 
 she bethought herself of the well-known charitable and compas- 
 sionate disposition of Mrs. Clayton ; and hurried to the apartments 
 occupied by that lady, to solicit the wherewith to arrest the ebbing, 
 tide of life that issued from the wounds of the dying man. Her 
 request was instantly granted ; and Mrs. Clayton, accompanied by 
 her brother-in-law, descended to aid the portress in her humane 
 task. Belle-Rose had opened his eyes during her absence, and was 
 gazing wildly around him when his benefactors entered the lodge. 
 His glance encountered that of Mr. Clayton, and a smile of satis- 
 faction animated his pallid countenance. He raised himself with 
 considerable difficulty on his right arm — repulsed the portress who 
 advanced towards the bed bearing linen and bandages in her 
 hands — and beckoned Mr. Clayton to approach. 
 
 " I have but a short time to live," said Belle-Rose in a faint 
 voice almost depressed to a mere whisper, " and I am desirous of 
 quitting this world in peace with all men. You are acquainted 
 with Alfred de Rosann— he was my friend — my benefactor. He 
 acted liberally towards me — and I repaid his kindness by ingrati- 
 tude. There breathes not a nobler character than De Rosann — 
 tell him I said so in my last moments. Tell him that I— yes, I — 
 was one of the three robbers who endeavoured to despoil him of the 
 treasures which were confided to his charge by a mercantile house 
 in London, and which were destined for a person named Leblond 7 
 in Paris. Tell him I have done him that grievous wrong — but do 
 not forget to say — '' 
 
 " And his attachment to Miss Robson, the banker's daughter," 
 cried Mr. Clayton, unable to restrain his impatience, " the proposal 
 he made for her hand — his repulse— his disappointment — " 
 
 " All false — all pure invention — all calumny !" returned Belle- 
 Rose, hanging down his head, and stifling a sob. 
 
 "God be thanked I" said Mr. Clayton : "his defence is as true 
 and correct as I could have wished it to be. We need not wait 
 for Mr. Robson's letter." 
 
 " If my levity — my unpardonable misrepresentations have done 
 him harm in your estimation," continued Belle-Rose, " hasten to 
 render him the justice he deserves; for I repeat, that there exists 
 not a nobler character than Alfred de Rosann !" 
 
 " Bind his wounds — take care of him — comfort his poor soul — 
 and assure him of pardon on the part of De Rosann ; — I accept his 
 apologies in the name of my friend — tell him he is forgiven," cried 
 Mr. Clayton in a hurried tone of voice ; and without waiting for a 
 reply, he hastily left the lodge to the astonishment of the portress, 
 who nevertheless proceeded to dress the wounds of the dying man. 
 But all her care was vain — Belle-Rose' last hour was come — and 
 no human agency could add another day to his existence, nor ex- 
 tend his mis-spent life. He died insensible to the feeble endeavours 
 of those around to procrastinate the fatal moment — and in his death 
 he enjoyed a more honourable reputation than he had acquired 
 during the numerous years he had devoted to dissipation, to folly, 
 and to crime. He was subsequently interred in thecemeti y of Pere 
 
228 ALFRED ; OR ADVENTURES 
 
 la Chaise ; and a simple cross of wood marks the resting place of 
 one of the heroes of July, 1830. Peace be to his soul I 
 
 Mr. Clayton hurried to the drawing-room, where Eloise was 
 seated in silent horror at the dreadful work of slaughter that was 
 being performed outside ; and he embraced his niece with a cry of 
 joy. He forgot the terrors of the revolution— the vicinity of car- 
 nage — the deadly deeds that were done in the streets : all he 
 thought of — all he cared for at the moment, was that De Rosann 
 was innocent. Some minutes elapsed ere Eloise could prevail upon 
 her uncle to moderate his sudden and apparently misplaced felicity ; 
 but when he had so far composed himself as to relate the brief con- 
 fession of the penitent Belle-Rose, the mind of Eloise experienced 
 a relief, that brought tears to her eyes. She wept through excess 
 of feeling — and those feelings were of happiness. 
 
 With what delight did she now contemplate her generous defence 
 of her lover's conduct ; and how heart-broken would she have been, 
 had she ever given credit to the calumniating tales which had pre- 
 judiced her mind against him. Her confidence was not bestowed 
 on one whose treacheries had rendered him unworthy of her regard ; 
 and she felt proud of possessing his love, and of having under- 
 taken his cause with a perseverance that had not failed to offend Mr. 
 Clayton, and that had drawn upon her the reproaches of her mother. 
 Time had proved the truth of her assertion — time had justified her 
 firmness in advocating the part of her lover. This conviction of his 
 permanent fidelity was an ample reward for all that she had been 
 obliged to endure ; and her countenance was radiant with joy as 
 she returned her uncle's caresses. 
 
 One fear, however, still harassed her, and soon recalled the mel- 
 ancholy expression of alarm and anxiety to her cheek. She was 
 afraid that Alfred might expose himself to danger, or might even 
 be rash enough to take an active part in the civil conflict. Mr. 
 Clayton entertained the same suspicions; but he affected a cer- 
 tainty, which he did not feel, that our hero would not interfere in 
 the disordered state of affairs. At the request of his niece, he 
 accordingly wrote the following note to De Rosann : — 
 
 " My dear Alfred, 
 
 " I have wronged you, and have at length discovered my 
 error. Forgive me, my friend — and believe that the tale must have 
 been very specious to have so grossly misled me. I hope to see you 
 here as speedily as possible. 
 
 " Yours affectionately, 
 " July 29th, 1830. " William Clayton." 
 
 This laconic epistle was not despatched to Meurice's Hotel, until 
 the following morning ; as no one could be found to venture into 
 the streets until a proclamation, signed by General Lafayette, pub- 
 licly declared that the strife was concluded, and that the citizens of 
 Paris might venture abroad in perfect safety. 
 
 Three days were thus sufficient for an incensed people to cast off 
 their chains, and hurl a tyrant from his throne. The rash king, 
 
OF A FRENCH GENTLEMAN. 229 
 
 when it was too lute, in vain sent messengers to the chiefs of the 
 revolutionary body : no compromise could be made with a monarch 
 who had violated the liberties of his subjects, and had drawn upon 
 himself by his own misdeeds a righteous doom. Exiled from his 
 native land, abandoned by the numerous dependants he had lately 
 seen humbling their heads to his august presence, the royal wan- 
 derer left his regal halls at St. Cloud, and fruitlessly deplored the 
 follies that had deprived him of a crown he might have worn in 
 peace. The dynasty of the Bourbons was thus overthrown — the tri- 
 coloured banner waved on every house — the news of this great and 
 sudden blow was quickly spread over the face of the country — and 
 till the end of time must the Genius of France, as she turns the 
 pages of her favourite nation's annals, point to the one on which 
 are recorded the glorious events of the 27th, 28th, and 29th of 
 July, 1830. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXI. 
 
 THE DECISION. 
 
 On the morning of the thirtieth of July, Mrs. Clayton, her bro- 
 ther-in-law, and Eloise, were seated at the breakfast-table, and 
 were engaged in a conversation, the topic of which might be easily 
 divined by the down-cast looks of our heroine, the impatient ges- 
 tures of her uncle, and the forced tranquillity of her mother. 
 
 " Although the innocence of De Rosann be proven in the affair 
 relative to the banker's daughter," said Mrs. Clayton, replying to 
 an observation just made by her brother-in-law, " my resolutions 
 still remain the same : and Eloise must endeavour to conquer her 
 unhappy passion." 
 
 " Say no more upon the subject," cried Mr. Clayton with an 
 unusual petulance. " I perfectly remember your vow— and begin 
 to think it is impossible to convince you of its injustice. At the 
 same time allow me to observe, that I would willingly give half of my 
 fortune — nay, the whole — were it possible for De Rosann to dis- 
 cover the particulars of your father's sudden disappearance, and the 
 fate of his property." 
 
 " Happily the days of fairies and enchanters have gone by," 
 returned Mrs. Clayton triumphantly : " I have therefore no reason 
 to repent my asseveration, nor will you have an opportunity of 
 parting with the moiety of your fortune." 
 
 " I am afraid not," said Mr. Clayton drily, and in a tone of voice 
 that plainly indicated his desire to drop the conversation. 
 
 Mrs. Clayton would have continued the unwelcome topic, had 
 not a violent knock at the door startled her as she was about to 
 speak. Eloise's heart palpitated violently — a well-known step was 
 heard on the oaken floor of the anti-chamber — and a servant 
 announced M. De Rosann. Forgetful of her mother's presence, 
 Eloise arose and threw herself into his arms : and the lovers in- 
 dulged in a long and fervent embrace. Mrs. Clayton sate stupified 
 
230 ALFRED; OR ADVENTURES 
 
 upon her chair, undecided how to act, and trembling with emotions 
 she could scarcely account for. Alfred saluted her respectfully, and 
 turned to grasp the hand of Mr. Clayton, who made up by the 
 cordiality of his welcome for the coldness of his stern but conscien- 
 tious sister-in-law. 
 
 i( I have only this moment received your note, or I should have 
 hastened hither before," said De Rosann, addressing himself to Mr. 
 Clayton. 
 
 " It was dated yesterday, but was not sent till this morning," 
 returned that gentleman. 
 
 " For three days and three nights I have not been to the hotel," 
 continued Alfred : " I have laboured in the defence of my country's 
 rights." 
 
 " What ! did you engage in the strife — in the revolution ?" ex- 
 claimed Eloise, turning pale at the bare idea of her lover's danger, 
 although it was now past. 
 
 " I did my duty, Eloise," cried our hero, a glow of satisfaction 
 and pride animating his countenance : " I led a gallant band to the 
 aid of my fellow-countrymen that fought in the cause of freedom ; 
 and I have ere now been informed of the death of the unfortunate 
 Belle-Rose, whom I rescued from destruction." 
 
 " Was it you that brought Belle-Rose hither ?" cried Mr. Clay- 
 ton in astonishment. " I wonder how the portress could fail to 
 mention the circumstance ?" 
 
 " She has just explained to me her motives," answered De 
 Rosann ; " and I could not do otherwise than approve of her deli- 
 cacy and forethought." 
 
 " The same motives must account for her silence concerning 
 youiself, when the dying sinner confessed the falsity of the calum- 
 nies he had uttered against you, and that prejudiced you in my 
 estimation. But let us forget the trivial misunderstanding," said 
 Mr. Clayton, again grasping our hero's hand with affectionate 
 warmth ; " and do you recount to us the history of your adventures 
 in London." 
 
 " In the first place," began Alfred, " I must inform you of my 
 especial good fortune relative to La Motte." 
 
 " The villain who deceived you — was he not?" interrupted Mr. 
 Clayton, turning towards our hero, and preparing to listen with the 
 greatest attention. 
 
 " The same," said De Rosann. " I met him in London, and 
 exposed his conduct to a worthy individual he was endeavouring to 
 deceive, as he deceived me. Shortly after this occurrence, I was 
 sent for to attend his death-bed. I went to assure him of my full 
 pardon, and to breathe consolation to his departing spirit. He 
 died, and left me the heir to his whole property, which amounted 
 to upwards of forty thousand pounds, besides a small legacy set 
 apart to discharge a just debt." 
 
 " Bravo !" shouted Mr. Clayton, rubbing his hands together, and 
 repeating the word several times to demonstrate his joy, while 
 Eloise congratulated her lover with an expressive glance, and Mrs 
 Clayton maintained a stubborn silence. 
 
OF A FRENCH GENTLEMAN. 231 
 
 "Thus Fortune was favourable to me in that instance," con- 
 tinued our hero, when the uncle had relapsed once more into an 
 attitude of attention, and the niece had received a smile as a return 
 for the tender look she gave De Rosann : " nor did that same 
 capricious Fortune embitter her honied cup by poisoned dregs. 
 Leblond fulfilled the promise he made me in the letter I enclosed 
 to you, Mr. Clayton ; and there is my pardon," added Alfred, 
 throwing a paper upon the table. 
 
 " Here are two different documents," said Mr. Clayton. 
 
 " Ah ! I forgot to state in its place," returned De Rosann, 
 " that La Motte drew up and signed a full account of his nefarious 
 cheat practised upon me, and caused it to be witnessed by the 
 French consul, the more fully to establish my innocence." 
 
 " Better and better I" exclaimed Mr. Clayton, glancing towards 
 his sister-in-law, and displaying the precious deeds with as much 
 satisfaction as if they were his own, and as if he stood in our hero's 
 situation. 
 
 De Rosann and Eloise again exchanged significant looks of love 
 and delight ; and the former continued in the following terms : — 
 
 " But this is not all. I have made you acquainted with my 
 accession of property — my pardon— and my justification. A more 
 important circumstance still remains to be explained. My journey 
 to England, and absence from this country, have not been without 
 effect : let us now see the result my toils are calculated to produce. 
 Mrs. Clayton," he said, addressing himself to that lady, " I once 
 sought your daughter's hand as her equal — as an eligible suitor, 
 and I was accepted. Misfortune — the treachery of a supposed 
 friend reduced me to humiliation, to infamy, and to shame. You 
 then revoked your consent to our future union — my prospects were 
 wretched in the extreme — and perhaps you did right. But again 
 — as an equal — as an innocent man — as a person possessing a com- 
 petency — as a gentleman, in fine, I demand a renewal of your 
 approbation to my marriage with Miss Clayton. You shake your 
 head — you are impatient, "Madam— you mean to refuse." 
 
 " I hope not," cried Mr. Clayton, sitting uneasily on his chair, 
 and glancing first at his sister-in-law, then at his niece, and lastly 
 at Alfred, whose countenance was flushed with the excitement he 
 underwent as he spoke to Mrs. Clayton. 
 
 " I am sorry, M. De Rosann— I congratulate you most sincerely 
 on your late successes — but the hand of Eloise — " and the stern 
 parent hesitated ; for her eye caught sight of the ashy pale coun- 
 tenance of her daughter, and she feared to proceed. 
 
 " Well, then," exclaimed our hero, hastening to relieve himself 
 and her he adored of a terrible suspense, " suffer me to show you 
 that I am more generous than you, madam— and that I bear you 
 no ill-will; no rancorous feeling do I entertain against you. I 
 shall go hence and be unhappy— but first I must perform a duty 
 which Providence alone could have charged me to acquit." 
 
 « No— no— you shall be happy !" shouted Mr. Clayton, casting 
 terrible glances at his sister-in-law. 
 
 u Allow me to sav two words more," interrupted Alfred mildly, 
 
232 ALFRED; OR ADVENTURES 
 
 " and I have done. Mrs. Clayton," he continued, turning towards 
 that lady, and addressing himself to her, " will you permit me to 
 inquire if you be acquainted with the real name and rank of your 
 late father?" 
 
 " Certainly not !" cried Mr. Clayton, starting from his seat : 
 " and will you believe the ridiculous vow my sister has made rela- 
 tive to your engagement with her daughter ? She declares that 
 her approbation shall alone be elicited when you develop those 
 very mysteries to which you have just alluded." 
 
 " "lis singular !" exclaimed De Rosann, a s;leam of irrepressible 
 joy illuminating his handsome features. " Then it remains for me 
 to perform the rest." 
 
 " How? what?" shouted the uncle, throwing himself upon his 
 chair, and resigning himself to the bitter conviction that Alfred was 
 about to manifest a proper spirit, and retort upon Mrs. Clayton as 
 she deserved, but in a manner that would break the heart of Eloise. 
 
 " Madam, you are the daughter of the Marquis de Denneville !" 
 said our hero, addressing himself to Mrs. Clayton. 
 
 " Impossible !" cried the mother, fixing the eye of astonishment 
 upon De Rosann, and waiting with breathless anxiety to hear more. 
 
 •' Yes — madam," he continued ; " you are the daughter of the 
 Marquis de Denneville. Your property, amounting to thirty-two 
 thousand pounds, English money, is at your disposal. There are 
 the deeds which prove the truth of my statement, and which will 
 establish your claim to your father's wealth :" and our hero handed 
 the mysterious papers to their legitimate owner. 
 
 " A miracle ! a miracle I" thundered Mr. Clayton, once more 
 starting from his chair. " The vow must be fulfilled — the oath 
 must be accomplished. Alfred, there is your future bride — her 
 mother cannot recall her words." 
 
 44 Nor will she endeavour to do so," cried Mrs. Clayton. 
 " M. De Rosann, you have done me a service I can never for- 
 get — you have developed a mystery it has long been my sincerest 
 wish to fathom — and the least I can do to demonstrate my grati- 
 tude, is to accord you the hand of my daughter. I shall moreover 
 settle the wealth thus providentially recovered upon her ; and at 
 my death all I now possess will alike devolve to you and to Eloise." 
 
 De Rosann and Eloise rushed into each other's arms, and in- 
 dulged in a second embrace as long and ardent as the first. Mr. 
 Clayton clapped his hands together in an ecstasy of joy, and his 
 sister-in-law was not sorry that the affair had terminated thus 
 amicably. 
 
 Our hero now related the providential manner whereby he 
 became possessed of the documents that had worked so favourable 
 a change in his favour. He accounted for the sudden deviation 
 from his intentions of hastening to Paris, according to his agree- 
 ment with Mr. Clayton at the farm-house — he detailed the various 
 treacheries of Belle- Rose, and the difficulty he experienced in 
 recovering the precious papers : he related more fully than before 
 his adventures at the galleys, his escape, the history of Cham- 
 pignon, and the hopeless attachment of Selina Robson. He did 
 
OF A FRENCH GENTLEMAN. 233 
 
 not forget the duel — the circumstance of the horses' running away 
 with the post-chaise, in which he travelled from London to South- 
 ampton — and the particulars of the attempt made upon his pro- 
 perty by Belle- Hose, and the two accomplices in that daring deed. 
 At one time he excited the laughter of his auditors by a recital of 
 the freaks of the deceased Belle-Rose, or the extravagancies and 
 credulity of Champignon j at another he caused them to shudder 
 at the idea of the dangers he had himself encountered. But when 
 lie narrated the awful ^confession of Francois, and informed Mrs. 
 Clayton that her late father had died by the hands of a murderer, 
 that lady's tears burst forth in torrents, and the eyes of Eloise were 
 also moistened with the crystal drops of sorrow. De Rosann and 
 Mr. Clayton shared in their emotion, although not to so great a 
 decree. " The documents, which had been of such service to our 
 hero, were then produced and read. They consisted of letters 
 received by the Marquis de Denneville from the father of the 
 existing Mr. Clayton, of copies of the several replies that nobleman 
 had written, and of an epistle from the head partner of a mercantile 
 house in Paris to the said nobleman, stating that the eight hundred 
 thousand francs were duly handed over to him by the Marquis's 
 servant, Gustave, and that a proper notice of the deposit had been 
 sent, according to orders, to the firm of Messieurs Robson, Son, 
 and Co., Threadneedle-street, London. 
 
 " Pardon me, madam," said Alfred to Mrs. Clayton, when he 
 had concluded reading aloud the last letter, " for not having imme- 
 diately given up those precious deeds, when I discovered to whom 
 they belonged. But the idea, that they might eventually serve me 
 in forwarding my suit with a certain person," he continued, gazing 
 tenderly at Eloise, " and the conviction that no very long interval 
 would ensue before I should deliver them to you, made me guilty 
 of so unwarranted an act of audacity and boldness." 
 
 " No apology is necessary, my dear Alfred," returned Mrs. 
 Clayton, wiping away her tears, and smiling as she was wont to do 
 a year before at our hero. Eloise did not fail to notice this happy 
 change in her mother's behaviour towards De Rosann ; and her 
 bosom swelled with the purest sentiments of delight and joy. 
 
 The moment the metropolis was again tranquil and quiet, Alfred 
 mixed in the fashionable society of the Chaussee d' Antin together 
 with his destined bride, her mother and uncle ; and not one of the 
 gay acquaintances he had known in the times of his former pro- 
 sperity, and that had deserted him on the day of tribulation, failed 
 to offer him their congratulations and address him in flattering 
 speeches. He returned their salutations and fulsome homage to an 
 ascendant star, with the politeness that was so characteristic of his 
 manners ; because he did not choose to let them perceive he evei 
 felt their commiseration or disdain. 
 
 Eloise was universally admired in the fashionable circles of Paris 
 Happiness produces a wonderful effect upon the personal appear- 
 ance of individuals, because the mind and the body are so de 
 pendent on each other, and are intimately united together. Ai. 
 additional bloom appeared upon the cheeks of our fair heroine-- 
 
234 Alfred; or adventures 
 
 not the rude buxom glow of country health — but the chaste Vermil- 
 lion dye that mingles so sweetly with the adjacent white. Her 
 eyes flashed tenderness and delight, whenever they encountered the 
 glance of her lover : and as those two beings trod the mazy dance 
 together, or turned in the voluptuous waltz, the beholder might 
 well perceive that they were a pair well adapted and fitted for each 
 other. Indeed their dispositions, their tastes, and their beauty, so 
 nearly corresponded, that, had not Mrs. Clayton eventually ap- 
 proved of their union, her cruel dissent could not have been exten- 
 uated under any plea. 
 
 Mr. Clayton was as happy as his niece and his young friend. 
 He appeared to grow suddenly younger : and if his years did not 
 actually diminish, his gaiety increased to a considerable amount. 
 Eloise was now ever ready to play and sing to her kind uncle ; and 
 her talents in these divine arts were put to the test generally 
 twice a day. De Rosann assisted in these innocent amusements, 
 and seldom past a minute away from his beloved Eloise more than 
 he was obliged. 
 
 Alfred did not forget his promise to Mr. Robson. He recollected 
 with the sincerest sentiments of gratitude the paternal kindness of 
 the worthy banker, and wrote him a long account of the revolution, 
 the active part he had taken in it, the delivery of the documents to 
 their legal owner, and any other circumstance which he thought 
 would prove interesting to his London friends. He moreover added 
 that he experienced a successful result at the hands of the arbitress 
 of his fate in the tender affaire de cosur ; but complained of the 
 wedding day not yet being fixed. He concluded by desiring his 
 kindest remembrances to the whole family, and begged Mr. Rob- 
 son to charge him at any time with all commissions he might wish 
 to be executed in Paris. 
 
 A month had nearly passed away since the glorious change that 
 had taken place in the political affairs of France, and Mrs. Clayton 
 had as yet said nothing concerning the period when her daughter 
 should become De Rosann's bride. Our hero anxiously waited 
 for Mr. Clayton to make some remark upon the interesting sub- 
 ject ; and at length ventured to implore his interference to procure 
 the final settlement of the happy day. The first of September was 
 accordingly fixed upon ; and the reader need scarcely be informed 
 that it was looked forward to by the tender couple, with the impa- 
 tience which true love inspires in the most chaste and immaculate 
 minds. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXII. 
 
 CONCLUSION. 
 
 On the first of September, De Rosann led his blooming and blush- 
 ing bride to the altar. They were married at the Mairie of the 
 first Arrondissement* of Paris between the hours of three and four 
 
 * Paris is divided into twelve wards or arrondissements, in every one of which theie 
 is a town-hall called a Mairie, independent of the great Hotel de Ville. 
 
OF A FRENCH GENTLEMAN. 235 
 
 in the afternoon, in the presence of Mrs. Clayton, her brother-in- 
 law, the mayor, the notary, and a few friends invited to witness the 
 performance of the ceremony. They then proceeded to the Church 
 of Saint Hyacinth or the Assitmption ; and the nuptials were 
 solemnly blessed by the priest in the sight of heaven. 
 
 Do not imagine, gentle reader that when the holy bands of 
 matrimony were thus tied and consecrated by the civil and re- 
 ligious authorities, according to the excellent laws of France, that 
 the happy bridegroom and his gentle bride hastened to the country 
 to pass their honey-moon alone together. Such is not the custom 
 of the French. They returned to the apartment occupied by the 
 family in the Rue des Pyramides ; and in the evening the whole 
 street echoed to the sounds of music and the tread of the dancers. 
 De Rosann and Eloise graced the magnificent ball with their pre- 
 sence ; and at one o'clock in the morning our hero hastily threw a 
 cloak around his bride, conducted her to a carriage, and bore her 
 away to the dwelling he had prepared for her reception in the Rue 
 de Castiglione. 
 
 Leblond's promise to our hero was not forgotten. When Louis 
 Philippe was firmly established on the throne, and when amidst 
 his numerous cares he had time to think of the individuals to whom 
 he was indebted for his crown, as France was for her freedom, De 
 Rosann received the Cross of the Legion of Honour, a lucrative 
 and sinecure situation, and a permanent pension. 
 
 'A year after their marriage, Eloise presented her husband with 
 a son and heir : he was called Alfred in honour of his father. In 
 1833 their union was blessed with a girl, whom they named Eloise. 
 Mrs. Clayton died shortly subsequent to the birth of the little 
 Alfred : and Mr. Clayton then took up his abode with his nephew 
 and niece. Every afternoon, at about three o'clock, he may be seen 
 taking his usual walk in the gardens of the Tuileries. In the even- 
 ing he visits the Opera or the Porte St. Martin, dividing his time 
 and his attention between the music of Rossini or Meyerbeer, and 
 the prose of Pixericourt or Alexander Dumas. He is always the 
 first to purchase the last new novel of Paul de Kock, De Balzac 
 or Georges Sand ; and is a constant subscriber to the Constitutionnel 
 and the Gazette des Tribunaux. He has entirely lost his English 
 tastes and manners, and has imbibed every thing that is French. 
 Even his very hat has a conical shape verging towards a peak, and 
 is curiously curled at the brim. He has only retained his English 
 prejudices. 
 
 Champignon accidentally heard of our hero's happy marriage 
 and establishment in Paris, and wrote him a complimentary letter 
 on the occasion. The epistle concluded with a request that De 
 Rosann would interest the government in the gastronomer's favour, 
 and procure him a full pardon : " for," said Champignon in his 
 own language, " I flutter like a fowl when a Gendarme passes by 
 my door, or enters my shop to purchase a cervelas sans ail." De 
 Rosann readily complied with the wishes " of the best cook in 
 Europe," and succeeded in his demand for the indulgence thus 
 pathetically solicited. Champignon was so overjoyed at the event 
 
236 ALFRED; OR ADVENTURES 
 
 of his supplication, that he gave an immense -pate de foi gras to the 
 postman who brought him the welcome despatch, and regaled the 
 respectable functionary with such frequent libations of marasquino, 
 that the letters, instead of being distributed to their different ad- 
 dresses, were carefully consigned to the gutter, where their guardian 
 himself lay down — doubtless for the purpose of protecting them. 
 
 No sooner had Champignon received his pardon, than he dropped 
 the name of Citron as unworthy of him, and re-assumed his own. 
 But fearful that this sudden change might appear singular to his 
 customers, he caused upwards of ten thousand circulars to be 
 printed and spread over the town of St. Malo, to inform the 
 public that particular reasons, which he could not immediately ex- 
 plain, obliged him to vary his nomenclature. He still continues 
 his lucrative trade, ceases to deplore the fall of the Caclran Rouge, 
 and rides out into the country every morning on his donkey to pur- 
 chase the fowls that have died in the night, or that have been killed 
 by the wanton mischief of vagabond boys. 
 
 Louis Dorval built a neat dwelling on the site of his ruined man- 
 sion, and found a good customer for his poultry and eggs in Cham- 
 pignon. His wife recovered from the sick bed on which she was 
 lying when we first made mention of her ; and although neither she 
 nor her husband be important characters in our history, we love to 
 assure the reader of their prosperity and happiness. 
 
 And what of Selina Robson ? She has not again seen the object 
 of her ill-fated attachment — but she hears of him often — and never 
 mentions his name without a sigh. Her grief has moderated into a 
 settled melancholy ; — she seldom enters into society, or joins in any 
 party of pleasure. She is not absolutely wretched : but her coun- 
 tenance has not the expression of gaiety that once animated it. 
 Several eligible offers have been made to her ; and she has declined 
 them all. ' Her heart is deeply wounded — it is not however broken : 
 the scar has healed — the mark still remains, and still gives pain 
 Music draws tears from her eyes — a romance makes her weep like 
 a child. She has notwithstanding become excessively fond of 
 reading gloomy tales ; for she finds in the history of disappointed 
 passion those associations of sympathising ideas that console as they 
 grieve, and that teach her how all mankind are more or less subject 
 to misfortune while. they excite her most sensitive feelings. 
 
 With regard to Markham one word will suffice : he finished his 
 career a miserable exile at Botany Bay. 
 
 The reader will probably recollect the little girl who sang Or- 
 lando's song, in the streets of St. Malo. That songstress was 
 Jeannette. Her old grandmother died only a few days after Belle- 
 Rose and De Rosann honoured her cottage with their presence; and 
 Claude — the Draconic peasant whose ideas of justice w r e e so rigo- 
 rously severe — left the miserable hut with his interesting daughter, 
 and allured her to turn her musical talents to advantage. She suc- 
 ceeded to the utmost of her own and her father's wishes, and soon 
 became celebrated at St. Malo as the i( jolie chanteuse" of national 
 airs. Her reputation followed her to Paris, whither she accom- 
 panied her sire to try their fortune in the metropolitan city — the 
 
OF A FRENCH GENTLEMAN. 
 
 237 
 
 centre of all that is polite, learned, luxurious, and dissipated In 
 the cafes and at the tables dlwte of the various hotels, Jeannette 
 speedily procured for herself a hearty welcome by the melody of 
 her voice and her blameless character ; and not long after the birth 
 of his second child, our hero recognised the songstress in the Cafe 
 de Paris, where he happened to be dining with a party of friends, ; 
 
 What more have we to relate ? France appreciates the blessings 
 of peace, of national freedom, of just laws, and of a virtuous 
 monarch. She no longer sighs for empty glories and vain honours. 
 She has united her hand to that of England— the two puissant 
 sovereigns have allied their respective forces — and nought but the 
 most beneficial results can ensue. Let us therefore hope for a per- 
 manent establishment of those bounties wnich peace and tran- 
 quillity shed around ; and let us not wish to see the bloody standards 
 of war again raised amongst civilized and enlightened nations. 
 
 
LIST OF ENGRAVINGS, 
 
 THE BILLS OF EXCHANGE 
 
 THE ARREST 
 
 UNCLE THOMAS 
 
 EXAMINING THE PASSPORT . 
 
 THE EXECUTION ♦ » 
 
 BELLE-ROSE AND THE PEASANTS 
 
 THE MEETING , 
 
 A SINGULAR VISITOR 
 
 CHAMPIGNON 
 
 EXPOSURE OF LA MOTTE 
 
 SCENE AT BIRCH'S 
 
 BE ROSANN'S EXPLANATION TO MISS ROBSON 
 
 THE ROBBERS 
 
 DEATH OF BELLE-ROSE 
 
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