"'The French too.'

"'And the passengers?'

"'The passengers likewise.'

"'At that moment, a small white cloud appeared issuing from the side of
one of the English ships. This was followed by a dull noise like a heavy
blow on the big drum. I saw some splinters fly from the top of the brig's
gunwale, and an artilleryman, who was just then standing on his gun, fell
backwards upon me. 'Come, my friend,' said I, 'mind what you are about.'
And, as he did not stir, I pushed him. He fell upon the deck. I looked at
him with more attention. His head was off.

"My nerves were so affected by this sight, that five minutes later I found
myself in the ship's hold, without exactly knowing how I had got there."

Thanks to a storm, the six English men of war manage to escape from the
brig, and when M. Louet ventures to re-appear upon deck, he finds himself
in the Italian port of Piombino, opposite the island of Elba. He has had
enough of the water, and goes on shore, where he bargains with a vetturino
to take him to Florence. A young officer of French hussars, and four
Italians, are his travelling companions. The former, on learning his name
and profession, asks him sundry questions about a certain Mademoiselle
Zephyrine, formerly a dancer at the Marseilles theatre, and in whom he
seems to take a strong interest.

Bad springs and worse roads render it very difficult to sleep. At last, on
the second night of their journey, M. Louet succeeds in getting up a doze,
out of which he is roused in a very unpleasant manner. We will give his