“And were you broke? did you desert? or what was it?” cried he, impatiently.
“I kept better company than I believe is considered safe in these days, and was accidentally admitted to the acquaintance of the Prince de Condé—”
“That’s it!” said Vandamme, with a long whistle; “that’s the mischief, then. You are a Vendéan?”
“No, sir; I was never a Royalist, although, as I have said, exposed to the very society whose fascinations might have made me one.”
“Your name is Tiernay, monsieur, or I mistake much?” said a smart-looking young man in civilian dress.
I bowed an assent, without expressing any sentiment of either fear or anxiety.
“I can vouch for the perfect accuracy of that gentleman’s narrative,” said Monsieur de Bourrienne, for I now saw it was himself. “You may possibly remember a visitor—”
“At the Temple,” said I, interrupting him. “I recollect you perfectly, sir, and thank you for this recognition.”
Monsieur de Bourrienne, however, did not pay much attention to my gratitude, but proceeded in a few hurried words to give some account of me to the bystanders.
“Well, it must be owned that he looks devilish unlike an officer of hussars,” said Massena, as he laughed, and made others laugh, at my strange equipment.