"Speak up," cried the clerk, as the old man muttered something in a low and very indistinct voice; "speak up; and remember, my friend, that we do not profess to give information further back than the times of 'Louis Quatorze.'" This allusion to the years of the old man was loudly applauded by his colleagues, who drew nigh to stare at the cause of it. "Sacre bleu! he is talking Hebrew," said another, "and asking for a friend who fell at Ramoth Gilead." "He is speaking German," said I, peremptorily, "and asking for a relative whom he believes to have embarked with the expedition to Egypt." "Are you a sworn interpreter, young man?" asked an older and more consequential-looking personage. I was about to return a hasty reply to this impertinence, but I thought of the old man, and the few seconds that still remained for his inquiry, and I smothered my anger, and was silent. "What rank did he hold?" inquired one of the clerks, who had listened with rather more patience to the old man. I translated the question for the peasant, who, in reply, confessed that he could not tell. The youth was his only son, and had left home many years before, and never written. A neighbor, however, who had traveled in foreign parts, had brought tidings that he had gone with the expedition to Egypt, and was already high in the French army. "You are not quite certain that he did not command the army of Egypt?" said one of the clerks in mockery of the old man's story. "It is not unlikely," said the peasant gravely, "he was a brave and bold youth, and could have lifted two such as you with one hand and hurled you out of that window." "Let us hear his name once more," said the elder clerk; "it is worth remembering." "I have told you already. It was Karl Kleber." "The General--General Kleber!" cried three or four in a breath. "Mayhap," was all the reply. "And are you the father of the great general of Egypt?" asked the elder, with an air of deep respect. "Kleber is my son; and so that he is alive and well, I care little if a general or simple soldier." Not a word was said in answer to this speech, and each seemed to feel reluctant to tell the sad tidings. At last the elder clerk said, "You have lost a good son, and France one of her greatest captains. The General Kleber is dead." "Dead!" said the old man, slowly. "In the very moment of his greatest glory, too, when he had won the country of the Pyramids, and made Egypt a colony of France." "When did he die? said the peasant. "The last accounts from the East brought the news; and this very day the Council of State has accorded a pension to his family of ten thousand livres." "They may keep their money. I am all that remains, and have no want of it; and I should be poorer still before I'd take it." These words he uttered in a low, harsh tone, and pushed his way back though the crowd. One moment more was enough for _my_ inquiry.