"So that you are not a royalist?" "No." "Never were one?" "Never." "In what way would you employ yourself, if set at liberty to-day." I stared, and felt confused; for however easy I found it to refer to the past, and reason on it, any speculation as to the future was a considerable difficulty. "You hesitate; you have not yet made up your mind, apparently?" "It is not that; I am trying to think of liberty, trying to fancy myself free--but I can not!" said I, with a weary sigh; "the air of this cell has sapped my courage and my energy--a little more will finish the ruin!" "And yet you are not much above four or five-and-twenty years of age?" "Not yet twenty!" said I. "Come, come, Tiernay--this is too early to be sick of life!" said he, and the kind tone touched me so that I burst into tears. They were bitter tears, too; for while my heart was relieved by this gush of feeling, I was ashamed at my own weakness. "Come, I say," continued he, "this memoir of yours might have done you much mischief--happily it has not done so. Give me the permission to throw it in the fire, and, instead of it, address a respectful petition to the head of the state, setting forth your services, and stating the casualty by which you were implicated in royalism. I will take care that it meets his eye, and, if possible, will support its prayer; above all, ask for reinstatement in your grade, and a return to the service. It may be, perhaps, that you can mention some superior officer who would vouch for your future conduct." "Except Colonel Mahon." "Not the Colonel Mahon who commanded the 13th Cuirassiers?" "The same!" "That name would little serve you," said he, coldly, "he has been placed 'en retraite' some time back; and if your character can call no other witness than him, your case is not too favorable." He saw that the speech had disconcerted me, and soon added, "Never mind--keep to the memoir; state your case, and your apology, and leave the rest to fortune. When can you let me have it?" "By to-morrow--to-night, if necessary." "To-morrow will do well, and so good-by. I will order them to supply you with writing materials;" and slapping me good-naturedly on the shoulder, he cried, "Courage, my lad," and departed. Before I lay down to sleep that night, I completed my "memoir," the great difficulty of which I found to consist in that dry brevity which I knew Bonaparte would require. In this, however, I believe I succeeded at last, making the entire document not to occupy one sheet of paper. The officer had left his card of address, which I found was inscribed Monsieur Bourrienne, Rue Lafitte, a name that subsequently was to be well known to the world.