"Monsieur de Boisguiller, have you already forgot me—and our meetings in the chateau of Bourgneuf, and the forest of St. Aubin du Cormier?"
His expression changed on recognising me; but perceiving my epaulettes, gorget, and sash—
"Pardieu!" he exclaimed, with a grimace on his lip, and fire flashing in his eyes; "we seem to have changed places with a vengeance, Monsieur l'Ecossais!"
He said something more, but his voice was rendered incoherent by the shame and passion, pride and mortification, which almost made him weep.
I turned to Lieutenant I——, of the Alceste, and inquired how it came to pass that the chevalier, whom I knew to be a brave and honourable French officer, should be found in a plight so deplorable, and thrust among such associates.
"He was sent on board here for attempting to kill the captain of one of our privateers," replied the naval officer briefly, and with a contemptuous glance at the Frenchman.
"I shall tell you how it came to pass, monsieur; you will believe me?" said the chevalier, turning to me earnestly.
"Assuredly, monsieur."
"Our fleet is still shut up in Brest by yours; so a large privateer of Bristol made a dash into the harbour of Cherbourg last week, to pick up anything milord Howe had left behind him. Among other things they unluckily picked up me, when on my way to Erville to keep an appointment with a little paysanne, who, like the rest, preferred a Parisian hussar to a Breton woodcutter. The privateer put to sea; I was refused my parole of honour, and placed on board this floating pandemonium three days before she was stranded in Rye Harbour, because in resenting some insolence of the privateer captain, I knocked him down and jumped overboard. He jumped after me, and we fought in the water till a boat's-crew picked us up. Pardieu that is all, mon camerade."
I begged the officer in command of the Alceste to accept the parole of the chevalier, to which he at once agreed, and removed him to one of the after cabins, where he was supplied with clothes to replace his hussar uniform, which was now in rags, the ruffians of the prison-ship having torn every shred of lace from it, to exchange for grog with bumboat women who paddled about the frigate.