peaceful country from these horrid scenes of war?"
"Indeed, I do; I would pay almost any price, short of doing a wrong action, to get out of it. What is it to me? I am not a Frenchman; this is not my country. I have no interest in this quarrel, and, if I had, I hate war; I always have hated it, and now more than ever. It may develope manly qualities, but still it is an evil thing at the best."
"You really wish to get out of Paris?" he asked.
"Why ask? Is it not clear that I must wish to get home? My whole future may depend on it. If I lose another term my chances of honours are gone. Do, in God's name" (for I was getting excited), "tell me how I can get out."
"I cannot do that; but I can get you out."
"How?"
"I must not say how. But by to-morrow morning, if you wish it, you may be on your way to England. Only, you must promise me never to ask how I have freed you."
"I promise you. I give you my word—I will give you my word of honour as a Christian, and as an English gentleman—I will never ask
