le
English, and treated me with a kindness that was harder than blows;
and then, to add to my shame, they sent me on shore with the women
last week, as if they feared me just as little, which was worst of
all."

"Never mind, Gabriel. You did all that a brave man could--and the
siege is not over yet!"

"That is true, madame," he cried, brightening under her kindly
words, "and, saving your honour, 'le mulet garde longuement un coup
de pied a son maitre,' as we say. That is my comfort."

"Will you join M. de Sarennes, Gabriel?" asked Mme. de Sarennes.
"I would like to think he had so good a man beside him."

"No, madame; I have orders to go on board the vessels at Sillery.
I will be of more use there than on shore."

"Good. You will remember Beaulieu when your turn comes with the
English!"

"I will, madame, and if le bon Dieu ever allows me that kick, rest
assured it shall be a good one!" and he left us laughing, much
comforted in his trouble.

Though never out of the sight and sound of war, we had so far
suffered but little in the city itself. We watched with curiosity
the English intrenching themselves on the opposite heights of the
Pointe de Levy, and there was much speculation among us as to their
object. That the city would be bombarded was scouted as ridiculous;
but one midnight towards the end of June we were awakened by the
heavy booming of artillery, and rushed to our windows to see the
heights of the Levy shore flashing with the explosions from the
cannon, and the hill beneath us filled with a panting, terror-stricken
crowd, laden with every conceivable description of household goods,
clambering up past us to gain some corner of safety, while the
flames from a shattered warehouse in the Basse Ville threw an
ominous glare over the blackness of the river. War in its most
terrifying guise was at our very doors, and had it not been for
the heroic calmness of Mme. de Sarennes, we should probably have
joined the distracted crowd in the streets. While affrighted women
and children, and even men, rushed past in the wildness of their
terror, filling the night with the clamour of despair, and exposing
themselves to still greater dangers in their efforts to escape,
she gathered her little household about her and set fear at defiance.

Dressed with her usual care, she sate in the drawing-room with all
the candles lighted, the shutters closed, and the curtains tightly
drawn. There was not a trace more colour than