The camp at Boulogne—The rencontre—The recruiters of the ancien regime—M. Belle Rose.
I travelled through Picardy towards Boulogne. At this period, Napoleon had abandoned his intention of a descent on England, and was about to make war against Austria with his vast army, but had left many battalions on the shores of the British channel. There were in the two camps, that on the left and that on the right, depôts of almost every corps, and soldiers of every nation in Europe; Italians, Germans, Piedmontese, Dutch, Swiss, and even Irish.
The uniforms were various, and this variety might be useful in concealing me; but I thought that it would be bad policy to disguise myself by only borrowing a military garb. I thought for a moment of becoming actually a soldier, but then to enter a regiment it would have been necessary to have certain papers, which I had not. I then gave up the intention, and yet my abode at Boulogne was dangerous, until I should decide on something.
One day that I was more embarrassed and more unquiet than usual, I met on the walks a serjeant of marine-artillery, whom I had met at Paris, and who was, as well as myself, a native of Arras; but having embarked when very young in a ship of war, he had passed the greater portion of his life in the colonies, and on his return to his native country had learnt nothing of my doings. He only looked on me as a bon vivant; and a public-house row, in which I energetically espoused his cause, had given him a high opinion of my courage.
"What, is it you," said he, "Roger Bontemps; and what are you doing at Boulogne?" "What am I
