door in the series that was

barred between him and England. The universal watchfulness so

encompassed him, that if he had been taken in a net, or were

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being forwarded to his destination in a cage, he could not have felt

his freedom more completely gone.

This universal watchfulness not only stopped him on the

highway twenty times in a stage, but retarded his progress twenty

times in a day, by riding after him and taking him back, riding

before him and stopping him by anticipation, riding with him and

keeping him in charge. He had been days upon his journey in

France alone, when he went to bed tired out, in a little town on the

high road, still a long way from Paris.

Nothing but the production of the afflicted Gabelle’s letter from

his prison of the Abbaye would have got him on so far. His

difficulty at the guardhouse in this small place had been such, that

he felt his journey to have come to a crisis. And he was, therefore,

as little surprised as a man could be, to find himself awakened at

the small inn to which he had been remitted until morning, in the

middle of the night.

Awakened by a timid local functionary and three armed

patriots in rough red caps and with pipes in their mouths, who sat

down on the bed.

“Emigrant,” said the functionary, “I am going to send you on to

Paris