"Why, to speak sooth, I escaped but narrowly," answered little Achilles; "and but that my lord loves not the high and tragic style, I could tell my tale like Corneille and Rotrou--ay, and make it full, full of horrors. But to keep to the lowly walk in which it is your will to chain my soaring spirit; when I saw that poor unhappy Viceroy faint, and a great many folks coming along the shore with lances, and muskets, and knives, and a great many other things, which are occasionally used for worse purposes than to eat one's dinner, I looked out for a place where my meditations were not likely to be interrupted by the clash of cold iron, and seeing none such upon the shore, I betook me to a small piece of green turf that came slanting down from the hill to the beach, and there I began to run faster than I ever plied my legs on an upland before. The exercise I found very pleasant, and God knows how long I should have continued it, especially as some of the folks on the beach, seeing me run, pointed me out with their muskets, that their friends might admire my agility, and I began to hear something whistle by my head every now and then in a very encouraging manner; but just when I got to the top of the hill--plump--I came upon a mob twice as big as the other. Instantly they seized me, and asked me a thousand questions, which I could not answer, for I did not understand one of them; when suddenly one fellow got hold of me, threw me down, and--blessed be the sound from henceforth for ever, Amen!--though he held a knife to my throat, and stretched out his arm in a very unbecoming manner, he at the same time muttered to himself,--'_Diantre!_' between his teeth, in a way that none but a true-born Frenchman could have done it.--'_Diantre!_' cried he, grasping my throat.--'_Diantre!_' replied I, in the same tone.--'_Diantre!_' exclaimed he, letting go his hold, and opening his mouth wider than before.--'_Diantre!_' repeated I, devilish glad to get rid of him.--'_Foutre!_ the fellow mocks me!' cried he, drawing back his knife to run it into my gizzard.--'Ah!' exclaimed I, 'if your poor dear father could see you now about to murder me, what would he say?'--'_Diable!_' cried he, 'are you a Frenchman?'--'Certainly,' answered I, 'nothing less, though a little one.'--'And do you know my father?' exclaimed he, catching me in his arms, and hugging me very fraternally.--'Not a whit,' answered I: 'I wish I did, for then possibly you would for his sake show me how I can save my throat from these rude ruffians.'--'That I will, for our country's sake,' answered he, and helping me up, he told some half dozen dogged-looking fellows, who had remained to help him to stick me, a long story, full of Spanish _oses_ and _anoses_, which seemed to satisfy them very well, for instead of running me through, they hugged me till I was nearly strangled, crying out, _Viva la Francia!_ all the while.