served in one of the Scotch regiments of Louis, and was now bound for
Paris, the officer said that they were free to continue their journey at
once.

It was two or three days before they started, for they found the next
morning that they were both too severely bruised to set out at once on
the journey. As Malcolm had taken care to keep the purse containing
Ronald's money securely fastened to a belt under his clothes they had no
lack of funds; but as time was no object they started for Paris on foot.
Ronald greatly enjoyed the journey. Bright weather had set in after the
storm. It was now the middle of May, all nature was bright and cheerful,
the dresses of the peasantry, the style of architecture so different to
that to which he was accustomed in Scotland, and everything else were new
and strange to him. Malcolm spoke French as fluently as his own language,
and they had therefore no difficulty or trouble on the way.

They arrived at Paris without any adventure. Malcolm went to a cabaret
which had at the time when he was in the French service been much
frequented by Scotch soldiers, being kept by a countryman of their own,
an ex-sergeant in one of the Scottish regiments.

"Ah! Sandy Macgregor," Malcolm exclaimed as the proprietor of the place
approached to take their order. "So you are still in the flesh, man!
Right glad am I to see you again.

"I know your face," Sandy replied; "but I canna just say what your name
might be."

"Malcolm Anderson, of Leslie's Scotch regiment. It's fourteen years since
I left them now; but I was here again four years later, if you can