Among the officers who accompanied this party I observed one, a fair-haired young man, of very prepossessing aspect, who checked his horse for a moment, and regarded me attentively. "Monsieur l'officier," said he, lifting his hat, "we have surely had the pleasure of meeting before?" "You were one of those who came with the flag of truce to Minden," said I, responding to his salute. "Exactly, monsieur--for the body of Prince Xavier--ah, diable! a sad business that was" (at the prince's name Hob Elliot looked about him as if preparing to fight or flee). "I am M. Monjoy, of the French Engineer department." I bowed, on which he again uncovered his head, with that genuine politeness and grace which were so charming in the French officers of the old school. "Monsieur le lieutenant," said he, turning sharply to the dapper little subaltern who had assumed a right of property in my person, and saying something--I know not what--rapidly in French. On this, the cord which secured me to the stirrup-leather of my own saddle was undone, and I was permitted to march at my ease; but the horse itself my captor resolutely refused to give up. I found the young engineer Monjoy a very pleasant companion. He was grave, earnest, and rational--quite unlike Boisguiller and many other French officers whom I had met. He held out hopes that I should soon be exchanged (so much the worse for _you_, Major Shirley, thought I), as we had so many of King Louis' officers in our hands, among the 5000 prisoners taken in the town of Minden. He said many other cheering things, and insisted on sharing with me the contents of his haversack (German sausage and biscuits) and of his canteen; and I remained by his side, during a long, slow, and bitterly cold day's march, which brought us to the little town of Ysembourg, whose prince had been slain at the battle of Minden. His castle, a famous old fortress, crowns the summit of a hill near Corbach. The French standard was flying on it, and there, next morning, we were conducted with several other prisoners, chiefly Black Hussars of the Prussian army, under an escort of the Volontaires de Clermont. The morning was chilly and depressing; a dense frosty mist covered all the ground; we were without cloaks, without breakfast, cold and miserable; and gloomily we looked at each other as we trod up the snow-clad hill, passing several ancient iron-mines, till we neared the gate of the castle, at which stood two sentinels of the Regiment de Bretagne, muffled in their greatcoats, all whitened by the frost-rime, which seemed to have edged their three-cocked hats as with silver lace. While we were ascending, one of our escort suddenly perceived a ring on my right hand. It was the emerald given to me by Jacqueline on that morning when first we met--when I had saved her life near St. Malo; and now the rascal demanded it at once and most peremptorily too.