ked.

We looked at one another in mute dismay. Had our pursuers hit upon
our tracks at once? It seemed scarcely credible. Yet for a minute
or two I waited in a kind of paralysis, expecting the trap door to
open and a posse of armed soldiers to descend. My anxiety on this
score soon vanished, however, for I heard a heavy thump on the trap
door above, and guessed that either something had been thrown upon
it or that one of the intruders had unwittingly chosen it for his
seat. This, with the previous stacking of the arms, seeming to
indicate that the visitors intended to make some stay, and had no
suspicion of our presence.

I determined to set my fears finally at rest (and, I must own, also
to satisfy my curiosity) by stealing out and taking a peep at them,
if they had left the door open. Whispering my comrades to remain
perfectly silent, I slipped off my boots, quickly opened the door,
and went very cautiously round to the front part of the house.

The first object that caught my eyes was a horse standing tethered
in what had been the ruins of a barn adjoining the farmhouse.
Creeping up to the door, which had been left ajar, I peeped in, and
saw a party of French soldiers seated on the floor, eating bread
and sausages, and drinking from little tin cans. My mouth watered
at the sight of this food after more than twelve hours of fasting,
but I was not conscious of this till afterwards. The party
consisted of seven men. One, somewhat apart from the rest (it was
he who had sat himself on the trap door), was clearly an officer.
He was a tall, lean man of some forty years; he had unbuttoned his
coat and laid his hat, in which there was a white cockade, beside
him. At a respectful distance from him sat the others of the party.

For some time they ate their meal in silence, the men, I suppose,
not daring to converse in the presence of their captain. But by and
by the officer, his hunger being some whit appeased, unbent a
little from his dignity and addressed a stout little sergeant among
the party.

"It is twelve years since I was here before, Jules," he said, and
there was a noticeable air of condescension in his tone; it was as
though he did the sergeant a mighty favor in speaking at all.

"Yes, monsieur," said the sergeant, as if humbly inviting him to
continue.

"Yes, twelve years ago," the officer repeated. "I have reason,
truly, to know it again. Those were the days of the Conversions,
Jules. You don't know what