On the following day, all the orders having been given for a speedy departure, and each one having returned, the breakfast-table was full. At the table, besides Colonel Macdonald, whom we have already seen, were seated four brigadier-generals, the citizens Lieber, Boursier, Michaud and Hermann; two staff-officers, the citizens Graume and Chaumette; and two aides-de-camp, the citizens Doumerc and Abatucci. Doumerc was a captain of cavalry and about twenty-two years old; he was born in the neighborhood of Toulon, and, as far as physical excellence went, he was one of the finest men in the army. As for his courage, in those days bravery was not even considered a merit. He had one of those charming characters which enlivened the calm though somewhat cold serenity of Pichegru, who rarely took part in the conversation and who smiled as it were with his mind only. Abatucci was a Corsican. At the age of fifteen he had been sent to the military school of Metz, and had become a lieutenant of artillery in 1789 and captain in 1792. It was while he held the latter rank that he was appointed aide-de-camp to Pichegru. He was a fine young man of twenty-two or three, and of acknowledged bravery. He was lithe and vigorous, with a bronzed complexion, which lent to his beauty, of the Greek type, an effect similar to that observed in the ancient medals; and this contrasted strangely with his spontaneous, almost childlike gayety. Nothing could have been more enjoyable than were the meals of these young men, although the table resembled that of Lacedæmona. Woe to him who came late, whether detained by love or war; he found the dishes washed and the bottles empty, and had to eat his dry bread amid the laughter and jokes of his companions. But not a week passed without leaving an empty place at the board. The general, as he entered, would notice it, and, by a gesture, order the cover of the absent one removed; he had died for his country. They drank to his memory, and all was over. There was something of sovereign grandeur in this carelessness of life and forgetfulness of death. The siege of Toulon had engaged the attention of the young men for the last few days almost as much as if they had been actors on the scene. Toulon, it will be remembered, had been delivered to the English by Admiral Trogoff, whose name, we regret to say, we are not able to find in any encyclopedia; the names of traitors should be preserved. M. Thiers, doubtless through patriotism, said that he was a Russian. Alas! he was a Breton. The first news was not reassuring, and the young men, particularly those who were cavalry officers, had laughed heartily over General Cartaux's plan, which was embodied in the following lines: The general body of artillery will bombard Toulon for three days; at the end of which time I shall attack it in three columns and take it.