en suspended from
the fastening.

It was still dark night, and the wind was blowing hard. The soldier
listened, but could hear nothing.

Returning to fetch the lamp from the table, he shaded the flame with
his hand, and strove to throw the light outside. Still he saw nothing.
Persuaded that a gust of wind had disturbed and shaken the pelisse: and
that Rose had been deceived by her own fears he again shut the window.

"Be satisfied, children! The wind is very high; it is that which lifted
the corner of the pelisse."

"Yet methought I saw plainly the fingers which had hold of it," said
Rose, still trembling.

"I was looking at Dagobert," said Blanche, "and I saw nothing."

"There was nothing to see, my children; the thing is clear enough. The
window is at least eight feet above the ground; none but a giant could
reach it without a ladder. Now, had any one used a ladder, there would
not have been time to remove it; for, as soon as Rose cried out, I ran
to the window, and, when I held out the light, I could see nothing."

"I must have been deceived," said Rose.

"You may be sure, sister, it was only the wind," added Blanche.

"Then I beg pardon for having disturbed you, my good Dagobert."

"Never mind!" replied the soldier musingly, "I am only sorry that Spoil
sport is not come back. He would have watched the window, and that would
have quite tranquillized you. But he no doubt scented the stable of his
comrade, Jovial, and will have called in to bid him good-night on the
road. I have half a mind to go and fetch him."

"Oh, no, Dagobert! do not leave us alone," cried the maidens; "we are
too much afraid."

"Well, the dog is not likely to remain away much longer, and I am sure
we shall soon hear him scratching at the door, so we will continue our
story," said Dagobert, as he again seated himself near the head of the
bed, but this time with his face towards the window.

"Now the general was prisoner at Warsaw," continued he, "and in love
with your mother, whom they wished to marry to another. In 1814, we
learned the finish of the war, the banishment of the Emperor to the Isle
of Elba, and the return of the Bourbons. In concert with the Prussians
and Russians, who had brought them back, they had exiled the Emperor.
Learning all this, your mother said to the general: 'The war is
finished; you are free, but your Emperor is in trouble. You owe
everything to him; go and join him in his misfortunes. I know not when
w