must be humbly resigned to it; it is a great loss, but I hope the Emperor will indemnify us for it.” “Do you think that event will bring any change in our fate?” He remained silent for a long time. “You will not betray me?” said he then, in a low voice. “No,” said I, “I give you my word for it.” Although there was nobody in my room, yet he approached to my ear, and said in a very low tone of voice: “The soldiers who brought your dinner to-day, informed me that they were told not to come for it any more, as you were expected yourself to-night in town.”—“Heaven be blessed!” exclaimed I. “I thank you a thousand times for your good news; but it is already late, and they do not come.”—“It is very likely,” said the Praporszczyk, “that on account of the darkness of the night, they will not come to take you until to-morrow morning.” When he went out, I heard from the soldiers the confirmation of that news. I immediately communicated it to Bonneau and Kapostas, telling them that they might expect to hear the same tidings soon, and assuring them that
