“You’ll give me a good character, mon capitaine,” said I, trembling more than ever—“you’ll say what you can for me, I’m sure.” “Willingly, if the general or chief were here,” replied he; “but that’s not so. General Moreau is at Strasbourg. It is General Regnier is in command of the army; and unless specially applied to, I could not venture upon the liberty of obtruding my opinion upon him.” “Is he so severe, sir?” asked I, timidly. “The general is a good disciplinarian,” said he, cautiously, while he motioned with his hand toward the door, and accepting the hint, I retired. It was evening when I re-entered Kehl, under an escort of two of my own regiment, and was conducted to the “Salle de Police.” At the door stood my old corporal, whose malicious grin as I alighted revealed the whole story of my arrest; and I now knew the charge that would be preferred against me—a heavier there could not be made—was, “disobedience in the field.” I slept very little that night, and when I did close my eyes, it was to awake with a sudden start, and believe myself in presence of the court-martial, or listening to my sentence, as read out by the president. Toward day, however, I sunk into a heavy, deep slumber, from which I was aroused by the reveillée of the barracks. I had barely time to dress when I was summoned before the “Tribunale Militaire”—a sort of permanent court-martial, whose sittings were held in one of the churches of the town. Not even all the terror of my own precarious position could overcome the effect of old prejudices in my mind, as I saw myself led up the dim aisle of the church toward the altar rails, within which, around a large table, were seated a number of officers, whose manner and bearing evinced but little reverence for the sacred character of the spot. Stationed in a group of poor wretches whose wan looks and anxious glances told that they were prisoners like myself, I had time to see what was going forward around me. The president, who alone wore his hat, read from a sort of list before him the name of a prisoner and that of the witnesses in the cause. In an instant they were all drawn up and sworn. A few questions followed, rapidly put, and almost as rapidly replied to. The prisoner was called on then for his defense: if this occupied many minutes, he was sure to be interrupted by an order to be brief. Then came the command to “stand by;” and after a few seconds consultation together, in which many times a burst of laughter might be heard, the court agreed upon the sentence, recorded and signed it, and then proceeded with the next case.