They were all decore with one order or another.

We approached.

"Whence, and who have we here?" said one of them, a handsome young man,
apparently not above twenty--two, as I judged, with small tiny black,
jet--black, mustaches, and a noble countenance; fine dark eyes, and curls
dark and clustering.

The officer of my escort answered, "A young Englishman, enseigne de
vaisseau."

I was no such thing, as a poor middy has no commission, but only his
rating, which even his captain, without a court--martial, can take away at
any time, and turn him before the mast.

At this moment, I heard the clang of a sabre, and the jingle of spurs on
the stairs, and the group was joined by my captor, Colonel-----.

"Ah, Colonel!" exclaimed the aides, in a volley, "where the devil have you
come from? We thought you were in Bruxelles at the nearest."

The colonel put his hand on his lips and smiled, and then slapped the
young officer who spoke first with his glove. "Never mind, boys, I have
come to help you here--you will need help before long;--but how is--?"
Here he made a comical contortion of his face, and drew his ungloved hand
across his throat. The young officers laughed, and pointed to the door.

He moved towards it, preceded by the youngest of them, who led the way
into a very lofty and handsome room, elegantly furnished, with some fine