his bosom a small square volume, bound in
vellum, and fastened by a clasp; lettered on the cover, "Signals of the
Channel Fleet."

This was the secret of honest Paul's life; and as he turned over the
leaves, he expatiated with eloquent delight on the various British
emblems which were represented there, in all their brilliant coloring.

"That double streak of yellow on the black is to make all sail,
Comrades," said he. "Whenever they see us standing out to sea you may
remark that signal flying."

"And what is this large blue flag here, with all the colored bars across
it?" said one.

"Ay," cried another, "they're very fond of that ensign; what can it be?"

"Close action," growled out Paul, sullenly, who didn't fancy even the
reflective praise this question implied to the hated rival.

"_Sacrebleu!_" said a third, "they've no other to announce a victory.
Look here; it is the same flag for both."

Paul shut up the book at this, with a muttered curse, which might have
been intended either for his comrades or the English, or both together,
and the whole party became suddenly silent.

It was now that the landlord's tact became conspicuous; for instead
of any condoling expressions on what might have been deemed the
unsuccessful result of Paul's career, he affected to think that the
brave seaman was more to be envied for the possession of that volume
than if he walked the deck an admiral of France.

This flattery, aided by a fresh supply of Burgundy, had full success;
and from story-telling the party fell to singing,--the songs being
only a more boastful detail of their prowess at sea than their prose
narratives; and even here Paul maintained his supremacy.

Sleep, however, stronger than self-glorification and pride, fell on the
party one by one, and they lay down at last on the tables and benches,
and slumbered heavily.

CHAPTER XXXI. A MOONLIGHT RECOGNITION

I sat on my bed in the little chamber allotted me, and as the bright
moonlight streamed along the floor, and lit up the wide landscape
without, I hesitated within myself whether I should await the morning,
or at once set forth on my way to the coast. It was true the abbe had
not arrived; and without him I knew nothing of the vessel, nor where she
lay, much less by what means I should induce the crew to receive me as
a passenger. But my heart was fixed on gaining the coast; once there,
I felt that the sea alone rolled between me and my country, and I ha