ts dashing and existing interests,--I have had them
to satiety. But liberty has its charm; even to the palsied arm and the
withered hand freedom is dear; and why not to him who yet can strike?"

His eyes flashed fire as he spoke, and he drained glass after glass of
wine, without seeming aware of what he was doing.

"If you felt thus, Duchesne, why have you remained so long a soldier?"

"I 'll tell you. He who travels unwillingly along some dreary path stops
often as he goes, and looks around to see if, in the sky above or the
road beneath, some obstacle may not cross his way and bid him turn. The
faintest sound of a brewing storm, the darkening shadow of a cloud,
a swollen rivulet, is enough, and straightway he yields: so men seem
swayed in life by trifles which never moved them, by accidents which
came not near their hearts. These, which the world called their
disappointments, were often but the pivots of their fortune. I have
had enough, nay, more than enough, of all this. You must not ask the
hackneyed actor of the melodrama to start at the blue lights, and feel
real fear at burning forests and flaming chateaux. This mock passion of
the Emperor--"

"Come, my friend, that is indeed too much; unquestionably there was no
feigning there."

Duchesne gave a bitter laugh, and laying his hand on my arm, said,--

"My good boy, I know him well. The knowledge has cost me something; but
I have it. A soldier's enthusiasm!" said he, in irony,--"bah! Shall I
tell you a little incident of my boyhood? I detest story-telling, but
this you must hear. Fill my glass! listen, and I promise you not to be
lengthy."

It was the first time in our intimacy in which Duchesne referred
distinctly to his past life; and I willingly accepted the offer he made,
anticipating that any incident, no matter how trivial, might throw a
light on the strange contrarieties of his character.

He sat for several minutes silent, his eyes turned towards the ground. A
faint smile, more of sadness than aught else, played about his lips, as
he muttered to himself some words I could not catch. Then rallying, with
a slight effort, he began thus--But, short as his tale was, we must give
him a chapter to himself.

CHAPTER XIV. A BOYISH REMINISCENCE

"I believe I have already told you, Burke, that my family were most of
them Royalists. Such as were engaged in trade followed the fortunes
of the day, and cried 'Vive la Republique!' like their neighbors. Some