"I am on parole. I have given my word of honour not to try to get away."
"Then you mustn't escape, even if you can?"
"No. If I had refused to give my parole, I should have been at once sent to prison—probably have been thrown into a dungeon."
The boy was as white as a sheet.
"And papa——?"
"Has given his parole also."
"And—mamma?"
"Your mother is at liberty to go home, and your father wishes her to do so, and to take you; but she says she will not leave him. One can understand her feeling, and yet it is a pity. In England she would be safer and better off. But you know how unhappy she always is, if she is away from your father even for a few days. You, of course, will have to be sent home soon, so as to go on with your schooling; but at first you will join us at Fontainebleau. We hope to be all released in a very little while. The thing is so disgraceful, that Napoleon can hardly persevere in it—so most people say. But we shall soon see. If we are not soon set free, your father will no doubt try to persuade your mother to take you home."
"Where is Fontainebleau?"
"Some distance from Paris. Don't you know the name? Your father and mother are there already, and now I have to go too. I have only been allowed to wait for a few days, because of your illness, and I must not put off any longer."