“Irlandais! For what have they brought you here? Pardonnez-moi, monsieur! I take the liberties of a fellow-prisoner.” Maynard frankly gave the explanation.
“Ah! my friend,” said the Frenchman, on hearing it, “you have nothing to fear then. With me it is different.” A sigh could be heard closing the speech. “What do you mean, monsieur?” mechanically inquired Maynard. “You have not committed a crime?”
“Yes! A great crime—that of patriotism! I have been true to my country—to freedom. I am one of the compromised. My name is L—.”
“L—!” cried the Irish-American, recognising a name well-known to the friends of freedom. “Is it possible? Is it you! My name is Maynard.”
“Mon Dieu!” exclaimed his French fellow-prisoner. “I’ve heard of it! I know you, sir!”
Amidst the darkness the two met in mutual embrace, mutually murmuring those cherished words, “Vive la république!”
L— added, “Rouge et démocratique!”
Maynard, though he did not go thus far, said nothing in dissent. It was not time to split upon delicate distinctions!
“But what do you mean by speaking of your danger?” asked Maynard. “Surely it has not come to this?”
“Do you hear those sounds?” The two stood listening.