of the
tables at the end of the huge caserne. By far the greater part (and
there must have been over two hundred crowded together in it,) were
amusing themselves in various ways, so far as a very limited choice would
allow. But a Frenchman will beat an Englishman hollow in finding
amusement out of little or nothing; aye, and enjoying it too with lively
satisfaction. Some were busy at work over the manufacture of those
singularly ingenious models, toys, boxes, and other articles, for sale,
which are so well known and so justly admired all round the
neighbourhood, and found in almost every house to this day. These were
the quiet and sensible men, who made the best of their misfortunes.
Others were playing dominoes, draughts, backgammon, and cribbage, the
boards and appliances all their own work. Some sang songs to a small
admiring audience. All talked and at the same time, and nowhere more
than where card-playing was going on, which was all over the room, and
the more vociferously because, if they could, they played for money or
money's worth, from a penny to an old shirt, or blanket, or even the next
day's rations.

The noise was deafening. Yet amidst it all the council of war went on
deliberating as calmly as if they were chatting together in some peaceful
meadow, with only the chirping of birds to disturb them. They literally
put their heads together, as, figuratively, conspirators always do, and
so made one another hear.

They were a sorry lot, both in face and clothing. Not one had a decent
set of garments on him. The only difference between the soldiers and the
sailors who composed the council was--the soldiers' clothes were in rags,
while the sailors mended theirs. In face they were all alike unsavoury,
but Victor Malin "took the cake."

"Comrades," he was saying, leaning forward and speaking with a harsh
powerful voice into the space between the bowed heads of the others,
where, by the way, there must have been some blue fire playing:
"Comrades, we must not follow the advice of our brother Poivre there.
Delay with us is dangerous. Every day makes it more likely that these
soldiers,"--there was an adjective prefixed, a favourite one, applied by
him to almost everything--"will find out what we are planning. The dark
nights, now there is no moon, will favour us when once we get away. Now
or never is the word. The men in all the other yards are waiting for the
red flag to be hoisted over our prison.