"I must; and 't is high time we were off, Captain St. Florian; besides, I see Janette is decidedly sleepy."
"Ah! poor girl, yes."
"My horse is at an hotel in a street leading from the Champ Elysées."
"Ouf! a devil of a way from this. There is a church clock striking five. Nombril de Belzebub, 't is morning!"
We hurriedly rose to depart. Janette had fallen fast asleep in the bar, and St. Florian kissed her brow as he passed and deposited the reckoning in her lap. The portière of the cabaret let us out, and we sallied through the street to find my hotel.
At the chateau, as the Parisians name the palace, I bade adieu to the captain, and getting forth my horse, rode off.
The trumpets of the Austrian cavalry and the English drums were ringing on the early morning wind, as the reveille roused the soldiers of the allied host in their several camps and cantonments.
The patrols of the gensd'armes were retiring to their quarters; the sun was coming up in his glory, and ruddily in his morning light, amid the morning smoke of Paris, shone the huge façade of Notre Dame, and the burnished dome of the Hotel des Invalides.
Paris, with its tented parks and guarded barriers, was left behind; and I dashed at full gallop along the dusty road that under the shadow of many a vine trellis, and many an apple bower, led to my cantonments at Lagny on the Marne.