he vindictive feelings of the commander. But he endured their gaze
with stern indifference, and his step was as firm, and his bearing as
lofty, as if he entered the gates a conqueror. A small apartment,
attached to the habitable buildings of the fort, which had often served
on similar occasions, was prepared; for a temporary prison, until his
final destination was determined. D'Aulney, himself, examined this
apartment with the utmost caution, lest any aperture should be
unnoticed, through which the prisoner might effect his escape. La Tour,
during this research, remained guarded in an adjoining passage, and
through the open door, he perceived, with a smile of scorn, what indeed
seemed the superfluous care, which was taken to provide for his
security. The soldiers waited at a respectful distance, awed by the
courage he had displayed, and the anger which still flashed from his
full dark eye.

In this interval, La Tour's attention was attracted by the sound of
light footsteps advancing along the passage; and immediately a delicate
female figure passed hastily on towards a flight of stairs, not far from
the spot where he was standing. Her motions were evidently confused and
timid, plainly evincing that she had unconsciously entered among the
soldiers; and her features were concealed by a veil, which she drew
closely around them. She flitted rapidly by La Tour, but at a little
distance paused, in a situation which screened her from every eye but
his. Throwing back her veil, she looked earnestly at him; a deep blush
overspread her face, and pressing her finger on her lips, in token of
silence, she swiftly descended the stairs.

That momentary glance subdued every stormy passion of his soul; early
scenes of joy and sorrow rushed on his remembrance, and clasping his
hands across his brow, he stood, for a time, unmindful of all around
him, absorbed by his excited thoughts. But the voice of D'Aulney again
sounded in his ears, and renewed the strife of bitter feelings, which
had been so briefly calmed. His cheek glowed with deeper resentment, and
it required a powerful effort of self-command to repress the invective
that trembled on his lips, but which, he felt, it would be more than
useless to indulge. He entered his prison, therefore, in silence; and,
with gloomy immobility, listened to the heavy sound of the bolts, which
secured the door, and consigned him to the dreariness of profound
solitude.

CHAPTER XIII.

T