These few words, wrung from me in sorrowful sincerity, seemed to do more than all I had said previously, and he moved the lamp a little to one side that he might have a better view of me as I sat; and thus we remained for several minutes staring steadfastly at each other without a word spoken on either side. It was in vain that I sought in that face, livid and shrunk by famine--in that straggling matted hair, and that figure enveloped in rags, for any traces of former condition. Whatever might once have been his place in society, now he seemed the very lowest of that miserable tribe whose lives are at once the miracle and shame of our century. "Except that my senses are always playing me false," said he, as he passed his hand across his eyes, "I could say that I have seen your face before. What was your corps?" "The Ninth Hussars, 'the Tapageurs,' as they called them." "When did you join--and where?" said he, with an eagerness that surprised me. "At Nancy," said I, calmly. "You were there with the advanced guard of Moreau's corps," said he, hastily; "you followed the regiment to the Moselle." "How do you know all this?" asked I, in amazement. "Now for your name; tell me your name," cried he, grasping my hand in both of his--"and I charge you by all you care for here or hereafter, no deception with me. It is not a head that has been tried like mine can bear a cheat." "I have no object in deceiving you; nor am I ashamed to say who I am," replied I. "My name is Tiernay--Maurice Tiernay." The word was but out, when the poor fellow threw himself forward, and grasping my hands, fell upon and kissed them. "So, then," cried he, passionately, "I am not friendless--I am not utterly deserted in life--_you_ are yet left to me, my dear boy." This burst of feeling convinced me that he was deranged; and I was speculating in my mind how best to make my escape from him, when he pushed back the long and tangled hair from his face, and staring wildly at me, said, "You know me now--don't you? Oh, look again, Maurice, and do not let me think that I am forgotten by all the world." "Good heavens!" cried I; "it is Colonel Mahon!" "Ay, 'Le Beau Mahon,'" said he, with a burst of wild laughter; "Le Beau Mahon, as they used to call me long ago. Is this a reverse of fortune, I ask you?" and he held out the ragged remnants of his miserable clothes. "I have not worn shoes for nigh a month. I have tasted food but once in the last thirty hours! I, that have led French soldiers to the charge full fifty times, up to the very batteries of the enemy, am reduced to hide and skulk from place to place like a felon, trembling at the clank of a gendarme's boot, as never the thunder of an enemy's squadron made me. Think of the persecution that has brought me to this, and made me a beggar and a coward together!" A gush of tears burst from him at these words, and he sobbed for several minutes like a child.