Well, I have written "The Companions of Jehu," and since the great success which it achieved I have been tormented with a desire to write a great romance, entitled "The Whites and the Blues," from what he told me, taking my point of departure for this new book from Nodier's "Episodes de la Révolution," as I did the motive for a former one from his "Réaction Thermidorienne." But, as I was about to begin, I was seized by a scruple. This time I wished not only to borrow a few pages from him, but to make him assume a rôle in the action of the drama. Then I wrote to my dear sister, Marie Mennessier, to request her permission to do what I had already done once without her permission; namely, take a graft from the paternal tree to improve my own stock. This is what she replied: Anything and everything that you wish, dear brother Alexandre. I deliver my father to you with as much confidence as if he were your own. His memory is in good hands. MARIE MENNESSIER-NODIER. From that moment there was nothing more to stop me; and as I had already outlined my plot, I set to work at once. I therefore offer this publication to-day; but in giving it to the public, I desire to acquit myself of the following duty: _This book is dedicated to my illustrious friend and collaborator_, CHARLES NODIER. I have used the word "collaborator," because the trouble I should take in seeking for a better would be thrown away. ALEX. DUMAS. THE WHITES AND THE BLUES _PROLOGUE_ _THE PRUSSIANS ON THE RHINE_ CHAPTER I FROM THE HÔTEL DE LA POSTE TO THE HÔTEL DE LA LANTERNE On the 21st Frimaire of the year II. (11th of December, 1793), the diligence from Besançon to Strasbourg stopped at nine o'clock in the evening in the courtyard of the Hôtel de la Poste, behind the cathedral. Five travellers descended from it, but the youngest only merits our attention. He was a boy of thirteen or fourteen, thin and pale, who might have been taken for a girl dressed in boy's clothes, so sweet and melancholy was the expression of his face. His hair, which he wore cut à la Titus--a fashion which zealous Republicans had adopted in imitation of Talma--was dark brown; eyelashes of the same color shaded eyes of deep blue, which rested, with remarkable intelligence, like two interrogation points, upon men and things. He had thin lips, fine teeth, and a charming smile, and he was dressed in the fashion of the day, if not elegantly, at least so carefully that it was easy to see that a woman had superintended his toilet. The conductor, who seemed to be particularly watchful of the boy, handed him a small package, like a soldier's knapsack, which could be hung over the shoulders by a pair of straps. Then, looking around, he called: "Hallo! Is there any one here from the Hôtel de la Lanterne looking for a young traveller from Besançon?"