‘I must take it away with me. Thou art not to wear it more?’ ‘Not wear it, nor die in it! and why not?’ ‘That is the sentence, lad; I cannot help it. It’s very hard, very cruel; but so it is.’ ‘Then I am to die dishonoured, sergeant; is that the sentence?’ He dropped his head, and I could see that he moved his sleeve across his eyes; and then, taking up my jacket, he came towards me. ‘Remember, lad, a stout heart; no flinching. Adieu--God bless thee.’ He kissed me on either cheek, and went out. He had not been gone many minutes, when the tramp of marching outside apprised me of the coming of the adjutant, and the door of my cell being thrown open, I was ordered to walk forth into the court of the prison. Two squadrons of my own regiment, all who were not on duty, were drawn up, dismounted, and without arms; beside them stood a company of grenadiers and a half battalion of the line, the corps to which the other two prisoners belonged, and who now came forward, in shirtsleeves like myself, into the middle of the court. One of my fellow-sufferers was a very old soldier, whose hair and beard were white as snow; the other was a middle-aged man, of a dark and forbidding aspect, who scowled at me angrily as I came up to his side, and seemed as if he scorned the companionship. I returned a glance, haughty and as full of defiance as his own, and never noticed him after. The drum beat a roll, and the word was given for silence in the ranks--an order so strictly obeyed, that even the clash of a weapon was unheard, and, stepping in front of the line, the Auditeur Militaire read out the sentences. As for me, I heard but the words ‘_Peine afflictive et infamante’_; all the rest became confusion, shame, and terror commingled; nor did I know that the ceremonial was over when the troops began to defile, and we were marched back again to our prison quarters. CHAPTER XIV. A SURPRISE AND AN ESCAPE