"Oh, yes, Monsieur officier," replied the Frenchman; "I have learned it in the prison." "I regret much to see you, an officer, placed here among the common rank and file. How has such an event come to pass? Can I in any way assist you?" "Monsieur, I thank you; you are very good, but it is not possible," stammered the Frenchman in confusion, his sun-burned cheek reddening while he spoke. "_Croix Dieu!_ yours are the first words of true kindness that I have heard since I left my own home, in our pleasant France. O monsieur, I could almost weep! I am degraded among my fellow-soldiers, my _frères d’armes_. I have broken my parole of honour, and am placed among the private men; confined within this palisado by day, and these dark vaults by night,"—pointing to the ancient dungeons which lie along the south side of the rocks, and are the most antique part of the fortress. These gloomy places were the allotted quarters of the French prisoners in Edinburgh. "I have been placed here in consequence of a desperate attempt I made to escape from the depot (Greenlaw,[*] I think it is named,) at the foot of these high mountains. I perceive you pity me, monsieur, and indeed I am very miserable." [*] A village near Edinburgh, where barracks were constructed in 1810 for some thousands of French prisoners. The buildings are now quite deserted, and no trace remains of their former inhabitants, except a monument, with an appropriate inscription, erected by the proprietor of Valley-Field-mill over the remains of 300 French soldiers, interred in the most beautiful part of the grounds. "I dare swear the penance of captivity is great; but ’tis the fortune of war, and may be my own chance very soon." "Ah, monsieur!" said the Frenchman despondingly, "to me it is as death. But ’tis not the _mal-du-pays_, the home-sickness, so common among the Switzers and you Scots, that preys upon my heart. Did you know my story, and all that afflicts me, your surprise at the dejection in which I appear sunk, would cease. I endure much misery here: our prison allowance is scant, my uniform is all gone to rags, and I have not wherewith to procure other clothing. We are debarred from many comforts—" The blood rose to the temples of the speaker, who suddenly ceased on perceiving that Ronald had drawn forth his purse. He could ill spare the money, but he pressed it upon the Frenchman, by whom after much hesitation the gift was accepted.