“You must not thank me,” said I, smiling; “the service I rendered was one instigated by friendship only. I know not your plans; I never knew them. The epaulette I wear I never was false to.” A murmur of dissatisfaction ran along the party, and I could mark that in the words they interchanged, feelings of surprise were mingled with displeasure. At last, the short man, commanding silence with a slight motion of the hand, said,-- “I am sorry for it,--your courage merited a better cause; however, the avowal was at least an honest one. And now, tell us, why came you here?” “For the very reason I 've mentioned. My presence at the château last night, and my discovery during the attack, were enough to impute guilt. How can I clear myself, without criminating those I would not name?” “That matters but little. Doubtless, you have powerful friends,--rich ones, perhaps, and in office; they will bear you harmless.” “Alas! you are wrong. I have not in all the length and breadth of France one who, if a word would save me from the scaffold, would care to speak it. I am a stranger and an alien.” “Hal” said a fair-haired, handsome youth, starting from the grass where he had been sitting, “what would I not give now, if your lot was mine. They 'd not make my heart tremble if I could forget the cabin I was born in.” “Hush, Philippe!” said the other, “the weapon is not in their armory to make a Vendean tremble--But, hark! there is the drum for the inspection. You must present yourself each day at noon, at the low postern yonder, and write your name; and mark me, before we part, it cannot serve us, it may ruin you, if we are seen to speak together. Trust no one here' Those whom you see yonder are half of them _moutons_.” “How?” said I, not understanding the phrase. “Ay, it was a prison word I used,” resumed he. “I would say they are but spies of the police, who, as if confined for their offences, are only here to obtain confessions from unguarded, unsuspecting prisoners. Their frankness and sincerity are snares that have led many to the guillotine: beware of them. You dare not carry your glass to your lip, but the murmured toast might be your condemnation. Adieu!” said he; and as he spoke he turned away and left the place, followed by the rest. The disgust I felt at first for the others was certainly not lessened by learning that their guilt was stained by treachery the blackest that can disgrace humanity; and now, as I walked among them, it was with a sense of shrinking horror I recoiled from the very touch of the wretches whose smiles were but lures to the scaffold. “Ha! our lost and strayed friend,” said one, as I appeared, “come hither and make a clean breast of it. What amiable weaknesses have introduced you to the Temple?” “In truth,” said I, endeavoring to conceal my knowledge of my acquaintances' real character, “I cannot even guess, nor do I believe that any one else is wiser than myself.”