“Is there any other Captain Charlot in the army of the Republic?” the fellow asked insolently. “Is he invalided too?” inquired Caron, without heeding the soldier's offensiveness of manner. “He was severely wounded at Jemappes,” was the answer. “At Jemappes? But, voyons my friend, Jemappes was fought three months ago.” “Why, so all the world knows. What then? The General sent Captain Charlot here to rest and be cured, giving him charge of the invalided soldiers who came with him and of others who were already here.” “And of these,” cried La Boulaye, his amazement growing, “have none returned to Dumouriez?” “Have I not said that we are invalids?” Caron eyed him with cold contempt. “How many of you are there?” he asked. And for all that the man began to mislike this questioning, he had not the hardihood to refuse an answer to the stern tones of that stern man on horseback. “Some fifty, or thereabouts.” La Boulaye said nothing for a moment, then touching the fellow's sleeve with his whip. “How came you into this masquerade?” he inquired. “Ma foi,” answered the man, shrugging his shoulders, “we were in rags. The commissariat was demoralised, and supplies were not forthcoming. We had to take what we could find, or else go naked.” “And where did you find these things?” “Diable! Will your questions never come to an end, Citizen? Would you not be better advised in putting them to the Captain himself?” “Why, so I will. Where is he?” In the distance a cloud of dust might be perceived above the long, white road. The soldier espied it as La Boulaye put his question. “I am much at fault if he does not come yonder.” And he pointed to the dust-cloud. “I think,” said La Boulaye, turning to his men, “that we will drink a cup of wine at the 'Eagle Inn.'” Mean though the place was, it was equipped with a stable-yard, to which admittance was gained by a porte-cochere on the right. Wheeling his horse, La Boulaye, without another word to the soldier he had been questioning, rode through it, followed by his escort. The hostess, who came forward to receive them, was a tall, bony woman of very swarthy complexion, with beady eyes and teeth prominent as a rat's. But if ill-favoured, she seemed, at least, well-intentioned, in addition to which the tricolour scarf of office round La Boulaye's waist was a thing that commanded respect and servility, however much it might be the insignia of a Government of liberty, equality, and fraternity. She bade the ostler care for their horses, and she brought them her best wine, seeking under an assumed geniality to conceal the unrest born of her speculations as to what might happen did Captain Charlot return ere the Deputy departed.