crois," with a
certain tone of significance upon the latter words.

"Le Capitaine! but what captain?" said he, carelessly; "for I am a
captain, and that gentleman there--and there, too, is another," at the
same instant throwing himself listlessly into the well-cushioned chair,
and stretching out his legs at full length upon the hearth.

The look of horror which this quiet proceeding on his part, elicited from
the poor waiter, so astonished him that he could not help saying--"is
there any thing the matter with you, my friend; are you ill?"

"No, monsieur, not ill; nothing the matter with me; but you, sir; oh,
you, sir, pray come away."

"Me," said Trevanion; "me! why, my good man, I was never better in my
life; so now just bring me my coffee and the Moniteur, if you have it;
there, don't stare that way, but do as I bid you."

There was something in the assured tone of these few words that either
overawed or repressed every rising feeling of the waiter, for his
interrogator; for, silently handing his coffee and the newspaper, he left
the room; not, however, without bestowing a parting glance so full of
terror and dismay that our friend was obliged to smile at it. All this
was the work of a few minutes, and not until the noise of new arrivals
had attracted the attention of his brother officers, did they perceive
where he had installed himself, and to what danger he was thus, as they
supposed, unwittingly exposed.

It was now, however, too late for remonstrance; for already several
French officers had noticed the circumstance, and by their interchange of
looks and signs, openly evinced their satisfaction at it, and their
delight at the catastrophe which seemed inevitable to the luckless
Englishman.

In perfect misery at what they conceived their own fault, in not
apprising him of the sacred character of that place, they stood silently
looking at him as he continued to sip his coffee, apparently unconscious
of every thing and person about him.

There was now a more than ordinary silence in the cafe, which at all
times was remarkable for the quiet and noiseless demeanour of its
frequenters, when the door was flung open by the ready waiter, and the
Capitaine Augustin Gendemar entered. He was a large, squarely-built man,
with a most savage expression of countenance, which a bushy beard and
shaggy overhanging moustache served successfully to assist; his eyes were
shaded by deep, projecting brows, and long eyebrows sl