history ended; but not so, this was
an act-drop and not the curtain. Upon what followed in front of the
barrack, since there was a lady in the case, I scruple to expatiate. The
wife of the Marechal-des-logis was a handsome woman, and yet the
_Arethusa_ was not sorry to be gone from her society. Something of her
image, cool as a peach on that hot afternoon, still lingers in his
memory: yet more of her conversation. "You have there a very fine
parlour," said the poor gentleman. "Ah!" said Madame la Marechale
(des-logis), "you are very well acquainted with such parlours!" And you
should have seen with what a hard and scornful eye she measured the
vagabond before her! I do not think he ever hated the Commissary; but
before that interview was at an end, he hated Madame la Marechale. His
passion (as I am led to understand by one who was present) stood
confessed in a burning eye, a pale cheek, and a trembling utterance;
Madame, meanwhile tasting the joys of the matador, goading him with
barbed words and staring him coldly down.

It was certainly good to be away from this lady, and better still to sit
down to an excellent dinner in the inn. Here, too, the despised
travellers scraped acquaintance with their next neighbour, a gentleman
of these parts, returned from the day's sport, who had the good taste to
find pleasure in their society. The dinner at an end, the gentleman
proposed the acquaintance should be ripened in the _cafe_.

The _cafe_ was crowded with sportsmen conclamantly explaining to each
other and the world the smallness of their bags. About the centre of the
room the _Cigarette_ and the _Arethusa_ sat with their new acquaintance;
a trio very well pleased, for the travellers (after their late
experience) were greedy of consideration, and their sportsman rejoiced
in a pair of patient listeners. Suddenly the glass door flew open with a
crash; the Marechal-des-logis appeared in the interval, gorgeously
belted and befrogged, entered with salutation, strode up the room with a
clang of spurs and weapons, and disappeared through a door at the far
end. Close at his heels followed the _Arethusa's_ gendarme of the
afternoon, imitating, with a nice shade of difference, the imperial
bearing of his chief; only, as he passed, he struck lightly with his
open hand on the shoulder of his late captive, and with that ringing,
dramatic utterance of which he had the secret--"_Suivez!_" said he.

The arrest of the members, the oath of