of a week’s growth bristled upon his chin; but there was the same merry devil-may-care twinkle in his eye, which showed that his bold and buoyant heart was yet unchanged. "_Vive la bagatelle—Hoa! Vive la joie!_" cried he, springing forward and clasping Ronald in his arms with true French energy, "My dear friend, you may judge how glad I am to see you. I shall now be rescued from the brutality of these base and accursed Spanish dogs." As this was said in Spanish, lightning gleamed in the eyes of Castellano, who stood by. He grasped the hilt of his poniard, but relinquished it as Ronald’s fiery and threatening glance fell on him. Yet he scowled malignantly at De Mesmai as he withdrew his hand. "Ah, Stuart, _mon ami!_ of what I have suffered at the hands of these guerillas you can form no idea. I have been plundered as you see: I have been beaten, kicked, even spat upon. _Mon Dieu!_ such treatment for a gentleman and soldier of France! I have been locked up in this desolate stone chamber for four nights and days, during which not one morsel of food has passed my lips." "Rascal! do you dare to treat an honourable prisoner of war, thus?" exclaimed Ronald, turning to the Spaniard, who bestowed a sullen look upon him, but made no reply. "I fully expected that before this," continued De Mesmai, "D’Erlon would have made some effort to effect my exchange. The devil confound him! I will revenge myself on him for his forgetfulness, by being doubly sweet to madame, his dear little countess, whose fortunate _cher ami_ I have the honour to be. _Diable!_ what would the 10th cuirassiers,—the pets of the Parisian ladies,—the dandies and glory of the Bouvelards, say, could they see me in this plight? Faith, I believe a dozen girls in the Rue des Trois Maries would run crazy, could they know of it. _Diablement!_ shirtless and shoeless,—and with a coat as holy as that of Monseigneur St. Denis, which hangs in the aisle of the old church of Besançon. Look at me, Monsieur Stuart; your allies, the guerillas, have done all this. But I will revenge myself on D’Erlon, and garnish his empty old head with certain ornaments which shall be nameless,—I will, by the name of the bomb!" "I am glad to find that your high spirits have not deserted you, and that you are as merry a fellow as ever. Can it be, that those wretches have really starved you thus?"