The clock over the "comptoir" struck eight, and, at the same instant, a waiter made his appearance, carrying a small table, which he placed beside the fire, and, having trimmed a lamp, and placed a large fauteuil before it, was about to withdraw, when Trevanion, whose curiosity was roused by the singularity of these arrangements, determined upon asking for whose comfort they were intended. The waiter stared for a moment at the question, with an air as if doubting the seriousness of him who put it, and at last replied--"Pour Monsieur le Capitaine, je crois," with a certain tone of significance upon the latter words. "Le Capitaine! but what captain?" said he, carelessly; "for I am a captain, and that gentleman there--and there, too, is another," at the same instant throwing himself listlessly into the well-cushioned chair, and stretching out his legs at full length upon the hearth. The look of horror which this quiet proceeding on his part, elicited from the poor waiter, so astonished him that he could not help saying--"is there any thing the matter with you, my friend; are you ill?" "No, monsieur, not ill; nothing the matter with me; but you, sir; oh, you, sir, pray come away." "Me," said Trevanion; "me! why, my good man, I was never better in my life; so now just bring me my coffee and the Moniteur, if you have it; there, don't stare that way, but do as I bid you." There was something in the assured tone of these few words that either overawed or repressed every rising feeling of the waiter, for his interrogator; for, silently handing his coffee and the newspaper, he left the room; not, however, without bestowing a parting glance so full of terror and dismay that our friend was obliged to smile at it. All this was the work of a few minutes, and not until the noise of new arrivals had attracted the attention of his brother officers, did they perceive where he had installed himself, and to what danger he was thus, as they supposed, unwittingly exposed. It was now, however, too late for remonstrance; for already several French officers had noticed the circumstance, and by their interchange of looks and signs, openly evinced their satisfaction at it, and their delight at the catastrophe which seemed inevitable to the luckless Englishman. In perfect misery at what they conceived their own fault, in not apprising him of the sacred character of that place, they stood silently looking at him as he continued to sip his coffee, apparently unconscious of every thing and person about him.