"Monsieur le Baron," said the captain, placing his cap under his arm, and leading forward Stuart, "allow me to introduce Major Stuart, an officer of a Scots regiment, and a very particular friend of mine, who has come to pay you a visit before marching for Calais to-morrow."
"Eh bien!" said the baron, extending his hand, and raising his eyebrows. "I am very happy to see Monsieur Stuart; his name is one for which I have a very great respect. But," he added with a smile, "you give him a bad recommendation in saying he is a 'particular friend' of yours. Remember, you are considered the greatest roué and libertine that Paris contains,—between the Champ de Mars and La Roquette."
"Pardieu!"
"In truth you are a very sad fellow," continued the baron, while a servant placed chairs for the visitors. "Your name is on every man's tongue."
"And woman's too."
"Worse still. Ay, Maurice, in Massena's corps we considered you no apostle. But draw your chairs nearer to the fire; 'tis cold this morning. And here, you Monsieur Jacques," addressing the servant; "bring a couple of logs for the fire, and place the glasses and decanters on the table."
A smoky wood fire blazed in a large basket or grate of brass and iron-work placed on the hearthstone: above it rose the arch of an antique mantelpiece. The square space around the grate was covered with small diamond-shaped pieces of Delft ware, which were neatly joined together, and reflected the light and heat.
"Monsieur le Baron will remember that I have not had the pleasure of seeing him since we were last together in Spanish Estremadura," said Ronald; "at Almendralejo, or Villa Franca, I think."
"Indeed, monsieur!" replied the old man, bowing. "Ah, misericorde! I was a prisoner then. You must excuse me; but I have seen so many places and faces, that if I do not exactly remember—"
"I am the officer who shared his ration-biscuit with you one morning at Merida, when the troops were so scant of provisions."