he distress inseparable from all great political crises never entered
into Marcasse's mind, and not a single drop of blood sullied the
romantic picture which Patience had unrolled before his eyes.

From these sublime hopes to the role of valet to M. de la Marche was a
far cry; but Marcasse could reach his goal by no other way. The ranks
of the army corps destined for America had long been filled, and it was
only in the character of a passenger attached to the expedition that
he could take his place on one of the merchant ships that followed the
expedition. He had questioned the abbe on these points without revealing
his plans. His departure quite staggered all the inhabitants of Varenne.

No sooner had he set foot on the shores of the States than he felt an
irresistible inclination to take his big hat and his big sword and go
off all alone through the woods, as he had been accustomed to do in his
own country. His conscience, however, prevented him from quitting his
master after having pledged himself to serve him. He had calculated that
fortune would help him, and fortune did. The war proved much more bloody
and vigorous than had been expected, and M. de la Marche feared, though
wrongly, that he might be impeded by the poor health of his gaunt
squire. Having a suspicion, too, of the man's desire for liberty, he
offered him a sum of money and some letters of recommendation, to enable
him to join the American troops as a volunteer. Marcasse, knowing the
state of his master's fortune, refused the money, and only accepted the
letters; and then set off with as light a step as the nimblest weasels
that he had ever killed.

His intention was to make for Philadelphia; but, through a chance
occurrence which I need not relate, he learnt that I was in the South,
and, rightly calculating that he would obtain both advice and help from
me, he had set out to find me, alone, on foot, through unknown countries
almost uninhabited and often full of danger of all kinds. His clothes
alone had suffered; his yellow face had not changed its tint, and he was
no more surprised at his latest exploit than if he had merely covered
the distance from Sainte-Severe to Gazeau Tower.

The only fresh habit that I noticed in him, was that he would turn round
from time to time, and look behind him, as if he had felt inclined to
call some one; then immediately after he would smile and sigh almost at
the same instant. I could not resist a desire to ask him