"You are an Englishman, then," said Frank, with symptoms of disgust which did not escape the other's notice.
"Thou art right," returned the man; "I am an Englishman by birth, but a citizen of the world—a friend to the whole human race on the principles of universal liberty. Expatriated and driven from my country, this noble and enlightened nation has adopted me; and here in brotherly affection I can carry out into practice my theory of the rights of man. What is life, my young friend, without the blessings of freedom!"
At this moment a municipal officer, attended by three or four subordinates, stepped up to Frank's companion, and, grasping him by the arm, uttered "Citizen Paine, you are our prisoner."
"By whose authority?" demanded the Englishman, his face assuming a deadly paleness.
"The authority is here," returned the officer, showing a paper with the signature of Robespierre attached to it, and, a fiacre immediately stopping by their side, citizen Paine was hurried into it and driven off to the Luxembourg, where, in the chamber which had been occupied by many a victim to the revolutionary mania, he contemplated the paternal regard of the nation that had adopted him, and sighed for the blessing of that freedom of which he had so vainly boasted. He had sat in judgment on the mock trial of the unfortunate Louis, but had given his vote against the monarch's death. This had rendered the ambitious dictator his enemy, and an opportunity was soon sought to take his life. The egotistical boasting of Thomas Paine afforded a pretext for arresting him; he was sent to prison, and would have been sacrificed by "his friends" but for an accident which saved him.
Frank, hungry and thirsty, destitute of money, and but with few rags to cover him, now stood alone in one of the by-streets of Paris. As evening came on, he crept into the cellar-way of an uninhabited house. At daylight he emerged from his concealment, and proceeded in the same direction in which he had been going when parted from his guide. It was yet early when, on turning a corner, he beheld a well-looking young man, accompanied by a stout Amazonian female, who were hurrying forward, but, on seeing the youth, suddenly stopped, and Frank felt his arm grasped by the woman, whilst a chuckle of delight escaped from the young man, who uttered in a whisper—
"Yah no for peak-a me, Massa Frank, hearee? Dere him, massa, for me behind—tan lilly bit become for you."
Frank stared with astonishment—the voice was that of Sambo, but the skin was fair. "How—what is this?" demanded he.
"Oh, it's all ship-shape enough, Master Frank," said the woman in a masculine tone, and hitching up her petticoats in true nautical style. "I'm bless'd, young gentleman, but you do shake a cloth or two in the wind—but there, what's the odds so as you're happy? Mountseer Pulthebell is coming up astarn, and a precious cruise they've had arter you."