a practised eye might have detected in the angle of the wall of
the Tournelles several black shades, which moved enough to show
that they belonged to poor devils of human bodies, who seemed
to find it difficult to preserve their natural warmth as they.
stood there. The sentinel from the Bastile; who could not see
them on account of the darkness, could not hear them either,
for they talked almost in whispers. However, the conversation
did not want interest.

"This Bussy was right," said one; "it is a night such as we had
at Warsaw, when Henri was King of Poland, and if this continues
we shall freeze."

"Come, Maugiron, you complain like a woman," replied another:
"it is not warm, I confess; but draw your mantle over your eyes,
and put your hands in your pockets, and you will not feel it."

"Really, Schomberg," said a third, "it is easy to see you are
German. As for me, my lips bleed, and my mustachios are stiff
with ice."

"It is my hands," said a fourth; "on my honor, I would not swear
I had any."

"You should have taken your mamma's muff, poor Quelus," said
Schomberg.

"Eh! mon Dieu, have patience," said a fifth voice; "you will soon
be complaining you are hot."