In a quarter of an hour we arrived at the Place d’Armes, where we were met, as usual, by another detachment of troops, and drummers, who paraded us through the town previous to our being drawn up before the governor’s house. As we stopped at the governor’s house, the gendarme who had left us in the square, made a sign to O’Brien, as much as to say, I have it. O’Brien took out five Napoleons, which he wrapped in paper and held in his hand. In a minute or two, the gendarme came up and presented O’Brien with an old silk handkerchief, saying, “Votre mouchoir, monsieur.”
“Merci,” replied O’Brien, putting the handkerchief which contained the map into his pocket; “voici à boire, mon ami;” and he slipped the paper with the five Napoleons into the hand of the gendarme, who immediately retreated.
This was very fortunate for us, as we afterwards discovered that a mark had been put against O’Brien’s and my name, not to allow parole or permission to leave the fortress, even under surveillance.
Chapter Twenty One.
O’Brien receives his commission as lieutenant and then we take french leave of Givet.
If I doubted the practicability of escape when I examined the exterior, when we were ushered into the interior of the fortress, I felt that it was impossible, and I stated my opinion to O’Brien. We were conducted into a yard surrounded by a high wall; the buildings appropriated for the prisoners were built with lean-to roofs on one side, and at each side of the square was a sentry looking down upon us. It was very much like the dens which they now build for bears, only so much larger. O’Brien answered me with a “Pish! Peter, it’s the very security of the place which will enable us to get out of it. But don’t talk, as there are always spies about who understand English.”
We were shown into a room allotted to six of us; our baggage was examined, and then delivered over to us. “Better and better, Peter,” observed O’Brien, “they’ve not found it out!”
“What?” inquired I.