On reaching the town, we were not permitted to drive to the inn, but at once conveyed to the house of the “commissaire,” who was also the “maire” of the district. The worthy functionary was long since in bed, and it was only after ringing violently for half an hour that a head, surmounted with a dirty cotton night-cap, peeped from an upper window, and seemed to survey the assemblage beneath with patient attention. By this time a considerable crowd had collected from the neighbouring ale-houses and cabarets, who deemed it a most fitting occasion to honour us with the most infernal yells and shouts, as indicating their love of justice, and delight in detecting knavery; and that we were both involved in such suspicion, we had not long to learn. Meanwhile the poor old maire, who had been an employe in the stormy days of the revolution, and also under Napoleon, and who full concurred with Swift that “a crowd is a mob, if composed even of bishops,” firmly believed that the uproar beneath in the street was the announcement of a new change of affairs at Paris, determined to be early in the field, and shouted therefore with all his lungs—“vive le peuple”—“Vive la charte”—“A bas les autres.” A tremendous shout of laughter saluted this exhibition of unexpected republicanism, and the poor maire retired from the window, having learned his mistake, covered with shame and confusion. Before the mirth caused by this blunder had subsided, the door had opened, and we were ushered into the bureau of the commissaire, accompanied by the anxious crowd, all curious to know the particulars of our crime. The maire soon appeared, his night-cap being replaced by a small black velvet skull-cap, and his lanky figure enveloped in a tarnished silk dressing-gown; he permitted us to be seated, while the gen-d’arme recounted the suspicious circumstances of our travelling, and produced the order to arrest an Englishman and his wife who had arrived in one of the late Boulogne packets, and who had carried off from some banking-house money and bills for a large amount. “I have no doubt these are the people,” said the gen-d’arme; “and here is the ‘carte descriptive.’ Let us compare it—‘Forty-two or forty-three years of age.’” “I trust, M. le Maire,” said I, overhearing this, “that ladies do not recognize me as so much.” “Of a pale and cadaverous aspect,” continued the gen-d’arme. Upon this the old functionary, wiping his spectacles with a snuffy handkerchief, as if preparing them to examine an eclipse of the sun, regarded me fixedly for several minutes, and said—“Oh, yes, I perceive it plainly; continue the description.” “Five feet three inches,” said the gen-d’arme. “Six feet one in England, whatever this climate may have done since.” “Speaks broken and bad French.” “Like a native,” said I; “at least so said my friends in the chaussee D’Antin, in the year fifteen.”