At one of the small oaken tables against the wall sat two men, with whom we have particularly to do; and at the table next to them, also against the wall, sat a third. Of the two, one was a sergeant of the National Guard, named Jacques Carlier, a middle-aged man, with a heavy red moustache, and a head of closely-clipped red hair. His face was likewise very red, and his two eyes were as nearly of the same fiery colour as they could be. The guardsman's companion was a short, thick-set man, also of middle age, with dark brown hair and a full beard of the same colour. His stoutness was peculiar. It did not seem to be fat, but an unusual size of body and limb--somewhat as though in his youth a ponderous weight had fallen upon his head and shoulders and knocked him into that squat, uncouth figure. His hair was thick and tangled; his face, where the full beard did not hide it, darkly tanned and seemingly unwashed; and his clothing of the very worst--worn and soiled and ragged. He had given his name as Pierre Dubois, claiming to be from Ardennes. The third man--he at the other table--was Colonel de Brèze, of the National Guard. Both he and the sergeant were in uniform, and, saving only the rags, neither of them could boast of a personal appearance very much better than was that of the poor wayfarer from Ardennes. Pierre Dubois had dark lines under his eyes; a look of pain and distress marked his face; while a deep-reaching, rasping cough ever and anon shook his frame and interrupted his speech. "I'd enlist this moment," he said, "if I could be put on duty under cover, out of the way of this miserable wintry wind. But what should I be good for in the trenches, or at the breast-works? You can see for yourself that I shouldn't last a week." "Aye," returned the sergeant, "I see very plainly that you wouldn't be good for much in an exposed position. I should say consumption was carrying you off about as fast as it could." "So--it--(a severe fit of coughing)--is." "Are you fit to enlist at all?" "Well, no; I do not suppose I am. But I'll be frank with you. I have a spice of the man Adam in me. It is Vengeance. I was at Sedan, as I have told you, and the Germans made me a prisoner. I wasn't fit to march: I could hardly stand; so they pricked me up with their sabre bayonets. Then, when I was thrown into a dirty prison, and begged for a bit of medicine for my cough, they gave me curses and a kick. I swore then, if ever the opportunity should be mine, I would volunteer to stand sentinel over a squad of German prisoners. You've got those fellows in limbo, haven't you?" "Yes, plenty of them." "And you've got strong, able, well men standing guard over them?" "Yes, we have." "Then, there's my opportunity. Put me there, and I'll do double duty, if I can stand it. At all events, I can perform the duties of a sentinel just as well as any living man." At this point Colonel Brèze, who had overheard, faced about.