I had scarcely finished my breakfast, when a group of officers rode up to our quarters to visit me. My arrival had already created an immense sensation in the city, and all kinds of rumors were afloat as to the tidings I had brought. The meagreness of the information would, indeed, have seemed in strong contrast to the enterprise and hazard of the escape, had I not had the craft to eke it out by that process of suggestion and speculation in which I was rather an adept. [10] Continued from the July Number. Little in substance as my information was, all the younger officers were in favor of acting upon it. The English are no bad judges of our position and chances, was the constant argument. _They_ see exactly how we stand; they know the relative forces of our army, and the enemy's; and if the "cautious islanders"--such was the phrase--advised a _coup de main_, it surely must have much in its favor. I lay stress upon the remark, trifling as it may seem; but it is curious to know, that with all the immense successes of England on sea, her reputation, at that time, among Frenchmen, was rather for prudent and well-matured undertakings, than for those daring enterprises which are as much the character of her courage. My visitors continued to pour in during the morning, officers of every arm and rank, some from mere idle curiosity, some to question and interrogate, and not a few to solve doubts in their minds as to my being really French, and a soldier, and not an agent of that _perfide Albion_, whose treachery was become a proverb among us. Many were disappointed at my knowing so little. I neither could tell the date of Napoleon's passing St. Gothard, nor the amount of his force; neither knew I whether he meant to turn eastward toward the plains of Lombardy, or march direct to the relief of Genoa. Of Moreau's success in Germany, too, I had only heard vaguely; and, of course, could recount nothing. I could overhear, occasionally, around and about me, the murmurs of dissatisfaction my ignorance called forth, and was not a little grateful to an old artillery captain for saying "That's the very best thing about the lad; a spy would have had his whole lesson by heart." "You are right, sir," cried I, catching at the words; "I may know but little, and that little, perhaps, valueless and insignificant; but my truth no man shall gainsay." The boldness of this speech from one wasted and miserable as I was, with tattered shoes and ragged clothes, caused a hearty laugh, in which, as much from policy as feeling, I joined myself. "Come here, mon cher," said an infantry colonel, as, walking to the door of the room, he drew his telescope from his pocket, "you tell us of a _coup de main_--on the Monte Faccio, is it not?" "Yes," replied I, promptly, "so I understand the name." "Well, have you ever seen the place?" "Never."