d; he believed he was marching
against an enemy until he actually saw the Emperor, and then----"

"I find this somewhat difficult to understand," said I, dubiously.
"Ney's new allegiance was no hasty step, but one maturely and well
considered. He had weighed in his mind various eventualities, and
doubtless among the number the possibility of the Emperor's return. That
the mere sight of that low cocked-hat and the _redingote gris_ could
have at once served to overturn a sworn fealty and a plighted word---"

"Have you time to listen to a short story?" interrupted the old dragoon,
with a degree of emotion in his manner that bespoke a deeper interest
than I suspected in the subject of our conversation.

"Willingly," said I. "Will you come and sup with me at my hotel, and we
can continue a theme in which I feel much interest?"

"Nay; with your permission, we will sit down here--on the ramparts.
I never sup: like an old campaigner, I only make one meal a-day, and
mention the circumstance to excuse my performance at the table d'hote:
and here, if you do not dislike it, we will take our places under this
lime-tree."

I at once acceded to this proposal, and he began thus:--

CHAPTER IV.

You are, perhaps, aware, that in no part of France was the cause of
the exiled family sustained with more perseverance and courage than
Auvergne. The nobles, who, from generation to generation, had lived
as seigneurs on their estates, equally remote from the attractions and
advantages of a court, still preserved their devotion to the Bourbons
as a part of religious faith; nor ever did the evening mass of a chateau
conclude without its heartfelt prayer for the repose of that "Saint
Roi" Louis XVI., and for the blessing of heaven on him, his rightful
successor, now a wanderer and an exile.

In one of these antique chateaux, whose dilapidated battlements and
shattered walls shewed that other enemies than mere time had been
employed against it, lived an old Count de Vitry: so old was he, that
he could remember the time he had been a page at the court of Louis XV.,
and could tell many strange tales of the Regency, and the characters who
flourished at that time.

His family consisted of two grandchildren, both of them orphans of
his two sons. One had fallen in La Vendee; the other, sentenced to
banishment by the Directory, had died on the passage out to Guadaloupe.
The children were nearly of the same age--the boy a few months older
t