Wherein Marcel spoke the truth, for during our long campaigns hunger often vexed us more sorely than the battle.
"I shall be glad to see our comrades and to serve with them again. When will we have a chance to leave?" he asked.
"I do not know," I said; "and I do not see that it matters. I am not going."
"Then will his lordship condescend to explain himself?" said Marcel. "You speak in riddles."
"We have come into this town, Marcel," I said, "in the guise of Englishmen and as the friends of the English. We have eaten and drank with them, and they have treated us as comrades. If I were to steal away, I would think that I had played the part of a mere spy."
"I mean to take what I consider to be the honorable course," I said. "I mean to go to Sir William Howe, tell him what I am and what I have done, and yield myself his prisoner."
"You need not look so confoundedly virtuous about it," said Marcel. "I shall go with you and tell what I am and what I have done, and yield myself his prisoner in precisely the same manner that you will. Again I wanted you to say the thing first."
I never doubted that Marcel would do what was right, despite his habitual levity of manner, and his companionship strengthened me in my resolution.
"When shall we go to Sir William?" asked Marcel.
"Do you think he will hang us as spies?" asked Marcel, gruesomely.
"I do not know," I said. "I think there is some chance that he will."
In truth, this was a matter that weighed much upon me. Do not think that I was willing to be a martyr, or wanted to die under any circumstances. Nothing was further from my desires.
"He is like enough to be in a very bad humor," said Marcel, "over his failures and his removal from the chief command. I wish for our sakes he felt better."
By representing to an aide that our business was of the most pressing importance, we secured admission to Sir William Howe. I think we came into the room before he expected us, for when we entered the doorway he was standing at the window with the grayest look of melancholy I ever saw on any man's face. In that moment I felt both sorrow and pity for him, for we had received naught but kindness at his hands. I stumbled purposely, that I might warn him of our coming, and he turned to meet us, his face assuming a calm aspect.