‘Le citoyen Aubuisson, chef de bataillon de Grenadiers, de cette demi- brigade, est entré le premier dans la redoute. Il a eu son habit criblé de balles.’ I read and re-read the lines a dozen times over; indeed, to this hour are they fast fixed in my memory. Some strange mystery seemed to connect them with the poor shepherd; otherwise, why were they here? I thought over his figure, strong and well-knit, as I saw him stand upright in the room, and of his military salute; and the conviction came fully over me that the miserable creature, covered with rags and struggling with want, was no other than the citizen Aubuisson. Yet, by what fearful vicissitude had he fallen to this? The wild expression of his features at times did indeed look like insanity; still, what he said to me was both calm and coherent. The mystery excited all my curiosity, and I longed for his return, in the hope of detecting some clue to it. The door opened suddenly. A large dog, more mastiff than sheep-dog, dashed in; seeing me, he retreated a step, and fixing his eyes steadily upon me, gave a fearful howl. I could not stir from fear. I saw that he was preparing for a spring, when the voice of the shepherd called out, ‘Couche-toi, Tête-noir, couche!’ The savage beast at once slunk quietly to a corner, and lay down--still never taking his eyes from me, and seeming to feel as if his services would soon be in request in my behalf; while his master shook the rain from his hat and blouse, and came forward to dry himself at the fire. Fixing his eyes steadfastly on the red embers as he stirred them with his foot, he muttered some few and broken words, among which, although I listened attentively, I could but hear, ‘Pas un mot; silence, silence, à la mort!’ ‘You were not wrong in your prophecy, shepherd; the storm is setting in already,’ said I, wishing to attract his attention. ‘Hush!’ said he, in a low whisper, while he motioned me with his hand to be still--‘hush! not a word!’ The eager glare of madness was in his eye as he spoke, and a tremulous movement of his pale cheek betokened some great inward convulsion. He threw his eyes slowly around the miserable room, looking below and above with the scrutinising glance of one resolved to let nothing escape his observation; and then kneeling down on one knee beside the blaze he took a piece of dry wood, and stole it quietly among the embers. ‘There, there!’ cried he, springing to his legs, while he seized me rudely by the shoulder, and hurried me to the distant end of the room. ‘Come quickly! stand back, stand back there! see, see!’ said he, as the crackling sparks flew up and the tongued flame rose in the chimney, ‘there it goes!’ Then putting his lips to my ear he muttered, ‘Not a word! silence! silence to the death!’