him to an intimacy. M. Bertrand was the oracle of the corps: he was intelligent and full of information, and they were disposed to consider him more witty and well-informed than he really was. However, he soon got acquainted with several Olympiens, who each desired the peculiar honour of introducing him to the fraternity. M. Bertrand was initiated, and as soon as he succeeded in establishing a communication with the Olympien leaders, he forwarded his reports to the minister of the police.
What I have related of the society of the Olympiens and of M. Bertrand, was told me by M. Bertrand himself; and to confirm the veracity of my statement, it will not, perhaps, be superfluous to say, how he was led to confide to me the mission with which he was charged, and to reveal to me those circumstances, of which mention is here made for the first time.
Nothing was more common at Boulogne than duelling; and the mania had extended even to the dull and peaceable Netherlanders of the flotilla, under the orders of admiral Werhwel. There was not far from the camp on the left, at the foot of a hill, a small wood, which could be passed at no hour without observing on the turf a dozen individuals engaged in what they called an affair of honour. It was here that a celebrated amazon, the demoiselle Div***, fell under the sword of a quondam lover, colonel Camb***, who, not recognizing her in her male attire, had accepted from her a challenge to single combat. The demoiselle Div***, whom he had forsaken for another, had wished to perish beneath his hand.
One day I was casting my eyes on this scene of bloody encounter, from the extremity of the left camp which peopled the extensive plain, when I saw at some distance from the little wood two men, one of whom was advancing towards the other, who was retreating across the plain. By the white trowsers I knew me champions were Hollanders, and I paused a moment to look at them. Soon the assailant retro-
