I was now domesticated with Ysaffich, who occupied good quarters in Kehl, where the Polish Legion, as it was called, was garrisoned. He treated me with every kindness, and presented me to his comrades as an old and valued friend. I was not sorry to find myself at once amongst total strangers,—men of a country quite new to me, and who themselves had seen reverses and misfortunes enough to make them lenient in their judgments of narrow fortune. They were, besides, a fine, soldier-like race of fellows,—good horsemen, excellent swordsmen, reckless as all men who have neither home nor country, and ready for any deed of daring or danger. There was a jealousy between them and the French officers which prevented any social intercourse; and duels were by no means a rare event whenever they had occasion to meet. The Imperial laws were tremendously severe on this offence; and he who killed his adversary in a duel was certain of death by the law. To evade the consequences of such a penalty, the most extravagant devices were practised, and many a deadly quarrel was decided in a pretended fencing-match. It was in one of these mock trials of skill that Colonel le Brun was killed, an officer of great merit, and younger brother of the general of that name.

From that time the attention of the military authorities was more closely drawn to this practice; and such meetings were for the future always attended by several gendarmes, who narrowly scrutinized every detail of the proceeding. With such perfect good faith, however, was the secret maintained on both sides that discovery was almost impossible. Not only was every etiquette of familiar intimacy strictly observed on these occasions, but a most honorable secrecy by all concerned.

I was soon to be a witness of one of these adventures. Ysaffich, whose duties required him to repair frequently to Strasburg, had been grossly and, as I heard, wantonly outraged by a young captain of the Imperial staff who, seeing his name on a slip of paper on a military table d'hÔte, added with his pencil the words Espion Musse after it. Of course a meeting was at once arranged, and it was planned that Challendrouze, the captain, and four of his brother officers were to come over and visit the fortifications at Kehl, breakfasting with us, and being our guests for the morning. Two only of Ysaffich's friends were intrusted with the project, and invited to meet the others.

I cannot say that I ever felt what could be called a sincere friendship for Ysaffich. He was one of those men who neither inspire such attachments, nor need them in return. It was not that he was cold and distant, repelling familiarity and refusing sympathy. It was exactly the opposite. He revealed everything, even to the minutest particle of his history, and told you of himself every emotion and every feeling that moved him. He was frankness and candor itself; but it was a frankness that spoke of utter indifference,—perfect recklessness as to your judgment on him, and what opinion you should form of his character. He told you of actions that reflected on his good faith, and uttered sentiments that arraigned his sense of honor, not only without hesitation, but with an air of assumed superiority to all the prejudices that sway other men in similar cases. Even in the instance of the approaching duel, he avowed that Challendrouze's offence was in the manner, and not the matter, of the insult. His whole theory of life was that every one was false, not only to others, but to himself; that no man really felt love, patriotism, or religion in his heart, but that he assumed one or more of these affections as a cloak to whatever vices were most easily practised under such a disguise. It was a code to stifle every generous feeling of the heart, and make a man's nature barren as a desert.

He never fully disclosed these sentiments until the evening before the duel. It was then, in the midst of preparations for the morrow, that he revealed to me all that he felt and thought. There was, throughout these confessions, a tone of indifference that shocked me more, perhaps, than actual levity; and I own I regarded him with a sense of terror, and as one whose very contact was perilous.

“I have married since I saw you last,” said he to me, after a long interval of silence. “My wife was a former acquaintance of yours. You must go and see her, if this event turn out ill, and 'break the tidings,' as they call it,—not that the task will demand any extraordinary display of skill at your hands,” said he, laughing. “Madame the Countess will bear her loss with becoming dignity; and as I have nothing to bequeath, the disposition of my property cannot offend her. If, however,” added he, with more energy of manner, “if, however, the Captain should fall, we must take measures to fly. I 'll not risk a cour militaire in such a cause, so that we must escape.”

All his arrangements had been already made for this casualty; and I found that relays of horses had been provided to within a short distance of Mannheim, where we were to cross the Rhine, and trust to chances to guide us through the Luxembourg territory down to Namur, at a little village in the neighborhood of which town his wife was then living. My part in the plan was to repair by daybreak to Erlauch, a small village on the Rhine, three leagues from Kehl, and await his arrival, or such tidings as might recall me to Kehl.

“If I be not with you by seven o'clock at the latest,” said he, “it is because Challendrouze has visÉd my passports for another route.”

These were his last words to me ere I started, with, it is not too much to say, a far heavier heart than he had who uttered them.

It was drawing towards evening, and I was standing watching the lazy drift of a timber-raft as it floated down the river, when I heard the clattering of a horse's hoofs approaching at a full gallop. I turned, and saw Ysaffich, who was coming at full speed, waving his handkerchief by way of signal.

I hurried back to the inn to order out the horses at once, and ere many minutes we were in the saddle, side by side, not a word having passed between us till, as we passed out into the open country, Ysaffich said,—

“We must ride for it, Gervois.”

“It's all over, then?” said I.

“Yes, all over,” said he while, pressing his horse to speed, he dashed on in front of me; nor was I sorry that even so much of space separated us at that moment.

Through that long, bright, starry night we rode at the top speed of our horses, and, as day was breaking, entered Rostadt, where we ate a hasty breakfast, and again set out. Ysaffich reported himself at each military station as the bearer of despatches, till, on the second morning, we arrived at Hellsheim, on the Bergstrasse, where we left our horses, and proceeded on foot to the Rhine by a little pathway across the fields. We crossed the river, and, hiring a wagon, drove on to Erz, a hamlet on the Moselle, at which place we found horses again ready for us. I was terribly fatigued by this time, but Ysaffich seemed fresh as when we started. Seeing, however, my exhaustion, he proposed to halt for a couple of hours,—a favor I gladly accepted. The interval over, we remounted, and so on to Namur, where we arrived on the sixth day, having scarcely interchanged as many words with each other from the moment of our setting out.