denunciations, so positive were some of the men, and women too, in their assertions, that he was a Prussian spy, that both to avoid the uproar and fury which an acquittal would have caused, and to protect their victim from the fate which awaited him, if he should again fall into his enemies' hands, the commander gave orders for Meunier to be imprisoned till the next day, promising to hear the witnesses then, if they were sober, and examine the accused himself.

Louis was able to exchange a few more words with Meunier, before he was led away to prison. "You are safe now, Antoine," he said; "Roux and his drunken mates will never be able to substantiate any charge against you, and to-morrow you will most likely be released."

"I owe my life to you, Louis," he replied; "but alas! for my poor daughter! what will become of her? Oh that I had never left her! she implored me not to go, but to wait a day or two longer, when she would be able to accompany me, but I was so anxious to get a lodging ready for her by to-morrow or next day, that I persisted in going, and now she is all alone, and I am powerless to help her."

"I will go to St. Cloud and fetch Cécile," said Louis, “if I die in the attempt. I will brave robbers and Prussians to reach your daughter, and bring her to Paris."

Meunier grasped his hand, his eyes filled with tears, he could not find words in which to express his thanks to his generous young friend.

As he lay that night sleepless, in his cold prison-cell, the thought struck him that perhaps Louis loved his daughter,could it be possible? How eagerly he had inquired after her safety, how grieved he was when he heard of her illness, and what fire was in his eye, what bold determination in his manner, when he exclaimed, that he would bring her into Paris, or die in the attempt!

It was a hazardous enterprise upon which Louis had resolved. To reach St. Cloud was by no means easy now. All egress from the gates was impossible after nightfall, and even in the day-time was attended with difficulty. St. Cloud was not yet positively occupied by the Prussians, though they were estabblished at Meudon, and at Versailles, but a short distance off; it was probably too near Mont Valerien for them to take up their quarters there, though they occasionally visited the town, and levied contributions on its inhabitants. The greater part of these had fled into Paris, and the whole population of the neighbouring village of Boulogne had a few days previous taken refuge within the walls.

Louis knew he could do nothing that night, so he returned home as quickly as possible, meditating on the course he should pursue.

When he reached the Rue du Dragon, Madame Laforce perceived at once from his excited manner, that something extraordinary must have occurred.

"What is the matter with you, Louis?" she said at once, "surely you have seen some fighting at last; thank God you are safely back from it!"

"Fighting, yes! my mother," said Louis, "not with the Prussians, but with some rascals of reds, who had seized a friend of mine, and were going to shoot him as a Prussian spy, if I had not come in, just at the right moment, and succeeded in rescuing him from their clutches."

"I am glad you were successful, Louis," said Josephine, "and rejoice indeed to hear you call the reds rascals; I was afraid you were rather too fond of them,-but tell us all about it."

Louis during supper-time related the whole story of his adventures at Belleville.

"But who is this Meunier?" said his mother; "I never heard you speak of him before? You say he lives at St. Cloud."

"Ah!" interrupted Josephine, "he is the man you go to visit there sometimes. Did you say he had a daughter?"

Louis in relating his adventures had said as little about Cécile as possible, but now he began to perceive that it would be best to divulge his secret at once, for circumstances might occur to prevent him from keeping it much longer, so he replied,

"Yes, he has a daughter, poor fellow! and to-morrow I mean to go to St. Cloud, to bring her into Paris."

"You, Louis, going to St. Cloud to-morrow!" said Madame Laforce, with anxious excitement; "why, consider the danger you run; you must be mad to think of such a thing; I implore you to do nothing of the kind."

"Mother, I have made up my mind," said Louis calmly and firmly, "I will rescue Cécile Meunier from the dangers to which she must be exposed, left alone as she is at St. Cloud, or perish in the attempt. Mother, Grandmother, Josephine, why should I hide it from you?—I love Cécile."

"I told you the other day that Louis was in love, mother," muttered Josephine.

"You take us by surprise, my son," said his mother. "I hope this girl is worthy of your affection?"

"You will say so when you see her, my mother," said Louis. "So sweet, so gentle, so industrious ;" and then he gave them an eloquent description of Cécile's charms, as well as of Meunier's delightful little cottage at St. Cloud.

“And now, mother, do you think you could give Cécile a lodging for a night or two, till her father is out of prison and able to hire a couple of rooms?"

"Well, perhaps we could manage it, Louis, if it's only for a few days-not for longer, I think. These are hardly times for us to have a guest, for we can't afford it—or, I must say, for you to think of marriage, my Louis!"

My good mother, I don't think of marriage yet," said Louis, "not till all our troubles are over; and who can tell which among us may survive this siege and its dangers? Any day, you know, a Prussian bullet on the ramparts may put an end to my life. But to return to what we were speaking about-Cécile can't come here now, I remember—”

"Why not?" asked Josephine.

"Because she has just had the small-pox, and she might bring the infection to you or my mother."

'Just had the small-pox, poor girl! Why, that makes me pity her all the more—and her father obliged to leave her too. I wish I could go with you, Louis, and see her now," said Josephine; "but I'm not afraid of infection-she shall come here all the same. Why, they've got the small-pox next door, and across the street-in fact, everywhere. We can't be more exposed to it than we are, can we, mother?"

"Oh! I am not afraid, I have already had it; but for you, Josephine, it would be more prudent, as Louis says--"

"No, mother, no!" Josephine interrupted her;" let us not talk

of prudence, when love and charity plainly show us what is our duty. Have I not been vaccinated? Did I not sit up with Clotilde's little Léon last January, when he had the disease, and never caught it? No! Cécile shall come here and share my room." Louis got up and embraced his sister with tears in his eyes. "Thank you, my good Josephine; how kind, how generous you are!" he exclaimed warmly.

But, my good Louis, I dread your proposed expedition to-morrow. May God protect you!" she said fervently.

"Never fear; I have laid my plans. I shall get to St. Cloud safe enough, I don't doubt; but the question is, how I shall get back with my charge."

Long before daybreak next morning, Louis was on his way to the gates. He walked along the banks of the Seine till he reached the Point du Jour. The gate was open here, and the drawbridge down. He perceived many persons, principally soldiers, passing in and out. Favoured by his uniform, he went boldly in, and found himself on the dreary glacis which encircled the city. Here, where formerly had been houses, villages, gardens, trees, all was now a desolate waste. In about ten minutes he reached a half-ruined house, a cabaret, where he perceived several men in blouses, drinking. He went in to gather some information from them about the state of affairs at St. Cloud. He learned, to his dismay, that nearly every house had been plundered, either by the Prussians or by the lawless French soldiers and Mobiles. He was advised by all means to exchange his uniform for the dress of a working man or peasant, for, if the Prussians caught him in the former, they would make short work of him, said the master of the cabaret. "I'll lend you a blouse," he said, “and an old cap; you can leave your sword and uniform here, till you return. Put a pair of workmen's trousers over your own, and you won't be found out. Your pistol you had better conceal about you, as that may be useful. The Prussians take little notice of peasants unless they think