“Halt there! stop, I say!” cried a voice, in a tone of command. “I know him; I know him well. It 's Burke; is it not?” It was De Beauvais spoke, while at the same moment he knelt down beside me od the grass, and put his arm round my neck. I whispered one word into his ear. He sprang to his feet, and with a hasty direction to assist me towards the house, disappeared. Before I could reach the door he was again beside me. “And you did this to save me, dear friend?” said he, in a voice half stifled with sobs. “You have run all this danger for my sake?” I did not dare to take the merit of an act I had no claim to, still less to speak of her for whose sake I risked my life, and leaned on him without speaking, as he led me within the porch. “Sit down here for a moment,--but one moment,” said he, in a whisper, “and I'll return to you.” I sat down upon a bench, and looked about me. The place had all the evidence of being one of consequence in former days. The walls, wainscoted in dark walnut wood, were adorned with grotesque carvings of hunting scenes and instruments of venery. The ceiling, in the same taste, displayed trophies of weapons, intermingled with different emblems of the _chasse_; while in the centre, and enclosed within a garter, were the royal arms of the Bourbons,--the gilding that once shone on them was tarnished and faded; the fleurs-de-lis, too, were broken and dilapidated; while but a stray letter of the proud motto remained, as if not willing to survive the downfall of those on whom it was now less a boast than a sarcasm. As I sat thus, the wide hall was gradually filled with men, whose anxious and excited faces betokened the fears my presence had excited, while not one ventured to speak or address a word to me. Most of them were armed with cutlasses, and some carried pistols in belts round their waists; while others had rude pikes, whose coarse fashion betokened the handiwork of a village smith. They stood in a semicircle round me; and while their eyes were riveted upon me with an expression of most piercing interest, not a syllable was spoken. Suddenly a door was opened at the end of a corridor, and De Beauvais called out,-- “This way, Burke; come this way!” CHAPTER XXXII. THE CHÂTEAU d'ANCRE.