no longer among the jovial Jaegers of
Deutchland. We had fallen in with the advanced corps of the Emigrant
army under the command of the Prince of Conde.

Here was a new dilemma. Our prisoner's was perhaps the most startling
name which could have been pronounced among those high-blooded and
headlong men. The army was composed almost wholly of the _noblesse_;
and Lafayette, under all his circumstances of birth, sentiments, and
services, had been the constant theme of noble indignation. The
champion of the American Republic, the leader of the Parisian
movement, the commandant of the National Guard, the chief of the rebel
army in the field--all was terribly against him. Even the knowledge of
his fall could not have appeased their resentment; and the additional
knowledge that he was within their hands, might have only produced
some unfortunate display of what the philosopher calls "wild justice."
In this difficulty, while the officer of the patrol was on his way to
the Chateau to announce our coming, I consulted the captain of my
escort. But, though a capital _sabreur_, he was evidently not made to
solve questions in diplomacy. After various grimaces of thinking, and
even taking the meersham from his mouth, I was thrown on my own
resources. My application to the captive general was equally
fruitless: it was answered with the composure of one prepared for all
consequences, but it amounted simply to--"Do just as you please."

But no time was to be lost, and leaving the escort to wait till my
return, I rode up the hill alone, and desired an interview with the
officer in command of the division. Fortunately I found him to be one
of my gayest Parisian companions, now transformed into a fierce
chevalier, colonel des chasseurs, bronzed like an Arab, and mustached
like a tiger. But his inner man was the same as ever. I communicated
my purpose to him as briefly as possible. His open brow lowered, and
his fingers instinctively began playing with the hilt of his sabre.
And if the rencontre could have been arranged on the old terms of man
to man, my gallant friend would have undoubtedly made me the bearer of
a message on the spot. But I had come for other objects, and gradually
brought him round; he allowed that "a prisoner was something entitled
to respect." The "request of his distinguished and valued friend, M.
Marston, dear to him by so many charming recollections of Paris, &c.,
was much more;" and we finally arranged that the gen