a word of it--that he had received an order for the apprehension of two
English persons travelling that road--and that he should accordingly
request our company back to Chantraine, the commissionaire of which place
was his officer.

"But why not take us to Amiens," said I; "particularly when I tell you
that we can then show our passports?"

"I belong to the Chantraine district," was the laconic answer; and like
the gentleman who could not weep at the sermon because he belonged to
another parish, this specimen of a French Dogberry would not hear reason
except in his own "commune."

No arguments which I could think of had any effect upon him, and amid a
volley of entreaty and imprecation, both equally vain, we saw ourselves
turn back upon the road to Amiens, and set out at a round trot to
Chantraine, on the road to Calais.

Poor Isabella, I really pitied her; hitherto her courage had been
principally sustained by the prospect of soon reaching Amiens; now there
was no seeing where our adventure was to end. Besides that, actual
fatigue from the wretched conveyance began to distress her, and she was
scarcely able to support herself, though assisted by my arm. What a
perilous position mine, whispering consolation and comfort to a pretty
girl on a lonely road, the only person near being one who comprehended
nothing of the language we spoke in. Ah, how little do we know of fate,
and how often do we despise circumstances that determine all our fortunes
in the world. To think that a gen-d'arme should have any thing to do
with my future lot in life, and that the real want of a passport to
travel should involve the probable want of a licence to marry. Yes, it