584 TIJ1, WATCII-TOWEIl OF KOAT-VEN. 



The next morning the Baron de Cernan was posting along the road 



to Nevers. 



****** 



At the end of the Faubourg St. Antoine was situated a dismal 

 building which was called at that time Vhopital, and was used as the 

 retreat of vicious females and such as had been convicted of petty 

 thefts. In that building was confined the Duchess of Almeda. On 

 this night, dark and rainy, the circuit of that wretched dwelling ap- 

 peared deserted. A narrow winding passage encircled the foot of 

 the wall of one of the outer courts of the prison. In this passage was 

 a man, wrapped in a dark mantle. His eye was ever and anon di- 

 rected towards the top of the wall, and he listened to the slightest 

 sound with seeming anxiety, as if he expected some signal. After 

 about a quarter of an hour, a stone, to which was affixed a long cord, 

 fell at the feet of the man. He seized the stone, throwing off his 

 cloak, and gave a slight pull, which was immediately returned from 

 the other side. Then Perez, for it was he, quickly affixed a knotted 

 rope to the extremity of the cord, which was gradually drawn across 

 the wall. At this instant the rain pattered with redoubled violence, 

 and the sudden gusts of wind raised a thick mist which added still 

 more to the horror of the night. A second stone fell near to Perez, 

 which he immediately seized, and by the impression made upon the 

 rope, he felt that the prisoner had commenced to mount on the oppo- 

 site side. 



But what was his horror when the rope yielded suddenly to his weight 

 and came in a great measure into his hands ; and a heavy fall was 

 dimly heard through the wall. He applied his ear vainly against the 

 stone ; all was silent. The prisoner had lost his footing, and had 

 fallen wounded perhaps killed. 



A new hope awakened Perez to life when another stone fell near 

 to him. The rope was again stretched by the mounting weight, and 

 in a few minutes Perez kneeled at the feet, of the Duchess of Almeda. 



The rain still poured down in pitiless torrents. Rita, fainting with 

 fatigue and pain, supported herself upon her faithful servant's arm. 

 There was no coach to be found, and Perez feared for the life of his 

 mistress. 



Suddenly a coach turned from one of the small streets in that re- 

 mote district, and moved towards them. " Stop !" said Perez. The 

 coachman answered not. " Stop ! stop ! if your coach is disengaged," 

 repeated Perez. At the sound of his voice the window of the coach 

 was lowered. " I am full," roared the coachman, as he urged on his 

 horses, which Perez was now holding by the reins. "We must on," 

 cried the duchess, advancing towards the window. A head imme- 

 diately appeared at the window, exclaimed, " Mortdieu,if you value 

 your life, Sir, move on." The unhappy Rita shrieked with surprise 

 and horror, and fell backwards on the pavement. 'Twas he ! 'twas 

 Henry, with Cecile enveloped in his ample roquelaire. 



'Twas a magnificent sight to behold the roadstead of Brest in the 

 early part of January 1781. Twenty-five ships of the line and 

 nine frigates were riding at their moorings, whilst a considerable 

 number of smaller vessels were anchored here and there, or were 



