believed; but be bold and confident. There
are still hearts in France that will feel that
my words are true. To them only you will
communicate what now I tell you. Say to
them, that for fifteen years after they had
mourned me as the tenant of a crimson grave,
I was alive; but hindered, by reasons which
It was impossible to overcome, from making
my existence known. The first whisper of
my name would have been death to my benefactor.
The man who saved me would have
been the victim of his generosity, if the success
of his endeavours had been suspected.
And thus it was. I was condemned by a
pretended Court-martial to die the death of a
traitor. I, a traitor! whose whole soul was
bent on the salvation of my country! I,
whose heart beat for nothing but honour!
But, enough—you will understand my
thoughts.

"When the sentence was given, I stood
erect and fearless—a curl of scorn on my lip,
a glance of contempt in my eye. The deed
was to take place at night, in an old hall of
justice, near the scene of my capture. My
companions were taken from my side—I was
powerless and alone. A groan rose from one
end of the table at which the Court was
sitting: I looked to the place it came from,
but I saw nothing but a grey head, covered
with two trembling hands, through the closed
fingers of which tears fell fast. I was marched
away, and lodged in a dungeon underground.
I had but two hours to prepare for death. I
know not how long I had been immured,
when the door of the prison opened, and a
single figure stept upon the floor. It was a
man, wrapt in a military cloak. There was
no time for any introductory remarks; he
placed one knee to the ground, and pressed
his lips upon my hand. ' I served under you
in Russia: you saved my life at Smolensko;
I will save yours now, or die along with you.'
I asked his name. He was a soldier of the
third division—had distinguished himself in
every battle: I knew him well. He drew
from his breast the cross of the Legion of
Honour, kissed it in sign of his fidelity, and
restored it to its hiding-place. 'I am officer
of the guard,' he said. 'When you hear the
muskets of your executioners, fall on your
face, and lie motionless. Here is my cloak,
in which to envelope your head and person
when you fall. Leave the rest to me.'

"Again he knelt and kissed my hand, and
left me. A muffled bell reached my prison;
the door was thrown wide; a file of soldiers
formed to be my escort; and we marched
through dark and winding passages, ascended
stairs, and found ourselves in a large hall
lighted by a solitary lamp; and drawn up
opposite me stood the firing-party in solemn
silence. I looked at them, to discover, if possible,
some sign of recognition; but the darkness
was too great to enable me to discover a
single feature. I heard their hearts beat in
the midst of that voiceless calm. A legal
officer at last began to read the sentence
of the Court. I was conducted to within
a few feet of the farther wall: the person
who led me to the place gave my arm a grasp
at parting. I stood up; opened my cloak
once, to show my star and cross; then drew
it close over my chest, and expected my fate.
They fired; I fell, and lay motionless on the
floor. Strange thoughts were in my heart at
that moment. Was I wounded? Were the
confused ideas that struggled within me
the last beatings of life? I lay, perhaps, insensible;
for my recollection of what passed
is faint and dream-like. The firing-party was
marched round me thrice. The officer lifted
the fold of the cloak from off my face—'A
brave man has died,' he said; and replaced
the covering. They left the hall, marching
in slow time, and I felt I was alone.

" 'Rise!' I heard a voice say at my ear;
'the bullets of the twelve muskets were
drawn—you are unhurt; a cuirassier of the
guards died last night—his body is perforated
with balls; he will be buried within half-an-hour
in the grave prepared for you. Retire
from Europe, or my life is the forfeit: breathe
not of your escape. Here is a bundle, where
you will find a disguise—your jewels will
provide for your passage. Let a poor brother-soldier
clasp your hand. Farewell!'

"He hurried me out. I availed myself of the
clothes he had brought me, exchanged some
jewels for a considerable sum of money, and,
without any difficulty or misadventure, came
over to the land of freedom. And now I am
about to die. Lift me higher, for though we
are alone, I will only tell you the rest in
whispers: put your ear to my lips. When I
am dead," he continued, "you will find in
that wardrobe in the lower drawer a wooden
cas ; take it, but do not open it till it reaches
its destination. Carry it to Europe. Wait
till the good time comes—come it will, though
slowly. Then, when it will no longer be
counted a disgrace to have fought for France,
then, I tell you, take the sacred pledge I put
into your charge, and give it—to—nearer,
nearer!—that you may hear the name." The
major stooped his head to the very mouth of
the dying man, and waited anxiously for his
last instructions; but no voice came—no
breath moved upon his cheek. The heart of
Pierre Laverdy had ceased to beat, and
Grasigny sate beside a corpse. Long he sat,
musing and silent. At last he threw open
the shutters of the little casement at the side
of the bed, and the moon poured into the
room. It fell upon the features of the dead,
which now, for the first time, were fully
revealed to the observer's gaze: hitherto,
the darkness of the corner in which he lay
had concealed them. The white beams fell
upon a noble brow; and even the wasting of
the cheeks and the rigidity of the lips could
not hide the majestic lineaments and heroic
expression which must have characterised his
countenance in health. Memories seemed to