"So," said he, "you believe in the triumph of the slave-holders?" "I do not for a moment doubt of our final success, and, as regards Charleston, Lee's army will soon relieve it: besides, what do you expect from the Abolitionists? Admitting that which will never be, that the commercial towns of Virginia, the two Carolinas, Georgia, Alabama, fall under their power, what then? Will they be masters of a country they can never occupy? No, certainly not; and for my part, if they are ever victorious, they shall pay dearly for it." "And you are quite sure of your soldiers?" asked the Captain. "You are not afraid that Charleston will grow weary of a siege which is ruining her?" "No, I do not fear treason; besides, the traitors would be punished remorselessly, and I would destroy the town itself by sword or fire if I discovered the least Unionist movement. Jefferson Davis confided Charleston to me, and you may be sure that Charleston is in safe hands." "Have you any Federal prisoners?" asked James Playfair, coming to the interesting object of the conversation. "Yes, Captain," replied the General, "it was at Charleston that the first shot of separation was fired. The Abolitionists who were here attempted to resist, and, after being defeated, they have been kept as prisoners of war." "And have you many?" "About a hundred." "Free in the town?" "They were until I discovered a plot formed by them: their chief succeeded in establishing a communication with the besiegers, who were thus informed of the situation of affairs in the town. I was then obliged to lock up these dangerous guests, and several of them will only leave their prison to ascend the slope of the citadel, where ten confederate balls will reward them for their federalism." "What! to be shot!" cried the young man, shuddering involuntarily. "Yes, and their chief first of all. He is a very dangerous man to have in a besieged town. I have sent his letters to the President at Richmond, and before a week is passed his sentence will be irrevocably passed." "Who is this man you speak of?" asked James Playfair, with an assumed carelessness. "A journalist from Boston, a violent Abolitionist with the confounded spirit of Lincoln." "And his name?" "Jonathan Halliburtt." "Poor wretch!" exclaimed James, suppressing his emotion. "Whatever he may have done, one cannot help pitying him. And you think that he will be shot?" "I am sure of it," replied Beauregard. "What can you expect? War is war; one must defend oneself as best one can." "Well, it is nothing to me," said the Captain. "I shall be far enough away when this execution takes place." "What! you are thinking of going away already."