'I do not choose to serve longer under the Count de Bitche.' 'This is rank mutiny; but perhaps you would prefer to serve under the enemy?' 'I have not said so. A volunteer chooses his own leader; it is the rule of war.' 'From whence came you last?' 'Champagne.' 'Aha--France!' said Schreckhorn, with kindling eyes, and I found that I had made a false move. 'You issued out with us; speak quick, fellow, for our troops are marching in, and yonder ten troopers are nearer than I like. You joined our sortie?' 'My presence here implies that I did so,' said I, haughtily, and gathering confidence on perceiving that some five or six petardiers, who remained by the side of Schreckhorn, all the soldiers of the sortie, were now marching into Phalsbourg. 'Then you must know the password for the day?' 'I know both parole and countersign.' 'What are they?' he asked, in a gentler tone. '"Mathias" and "Vienna."' 'False, by St. Nicholas! Here is a spy!' exclaimed Schreckhorn, seizing me. 'These words were given to me by the Count in person.' 'Thou liest! The Count has not been seen among us to-day.' 'And the passwords----' 'Are "_Gallas_" and "_Prague_."' 'Then the villain has deceived me,' said I, as the petardiers laid hold of me; and just at that moment a soldier came running breathlessly towards us, crying, as the devil would have it-- 'Hola, M. Schreckhorn! hola? 'What is the matter, fellow?' 'The spy we took last night has escaped from the turret, leaving in his place M. le Commandant, robbed and half murdered.' 'Mordieu! then this is our man. I must have been blind or mad not to recognise him even in this tatterdemalion dress, and with that visage of his, so artfully blackened!' 'Shoot him!' cried a petardier, drawing a pistolette from his girdle. 'Tête Dieu! an ounce of lead, my boy, will pay your passage to the other world, and here it is.' 'Cut him down!' suggested another, drawing his sword. 'Nay, take him back, and let M. le Comte deal with him, in person,' said the messenger. 'No, no,' added a fourth; 'diable! don't trouble us with prisoners, M. Schreckhorn; they do nothing but eat up the rations.' They proceeded, however, to drag me towards the tower of Phalsbourg, and then I shuddered when contemplating all I might suffer there, and at the idea of confronting De Bitche when flushed by pain and vengeance. But aware that to resist seven well-armed men would be an act of folly, I could only glance hopelessly at the horsemen, who were now galloping along the valley, obviously with a view to cut off Schreckhorn and his six stragglers. 'Here come those ten cavaliers of the enemy's horse,' said a petardier; 'and this fellow grows heavier at every step.' 'Unless we shoot him and run, we shall be cut off, M. le Capitaine,' urged a second. 'And they are Gardes Ecossais, by all that is infernal!' 'These fellows will follow us up to the very gate of Phalsbourg,' said Schreckhorn.