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diff --git a/1644-0.txt b/1644-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..60b554e --- /dev/null +++ b/1644-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,7264 @@ +Project Gutenberg's The Adventures of Gerard, by Arthur Conan Doyle + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Adventures of Gerard + +Author: Arthur Conan Doyle + +Posting Date: September 21, 2008 [EBook #1644] +Release Date: February, 1999 +Last Updated: March 6, 2018 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE ADVENTURES OF GERARD *** + + + + +Produced by Charles Keller + + + + + +THE ADVENTURES OF GERARD + +By A. Conan Doyle + + + + + “Il etait brave mais avec cette graine de folie dans sa + bravoure que les Francais aiment.” + + FRENCH BIOGRAPHY. + + + + +PREFACE + +I hope that some readers may possibly be interested in these little +tales of the Napoleonic soldiers to the extent of following them up to +the springs from which they flow. The age was rich in military material, +some of it the most human and the most picturesque that I have ever +read. Setting aside historical works or the biographies of the +leaders there is a mass of evidence written by the actual fighting men +themselves, which describes their feelings and their experiences, stated +always from the point of view of the particular branch of the service +to which they belonged. The Cavalry were particularly happy in their +writers of memoirs. Thus De Rocca in his “Memoires sur la guerre des +Francais en Espagne” has given the narrative of a Hussar, while De +Naylies in his “Memoires sur la guerre d'Espagne” gives the same +campaigns from the point of view of the Dragoon. Then we have the +“Souvenirs Militaires du Colonel de Gonneville,” which treats a series +of wars, including that of Spain, as seen from under the steel-brimmed +hair-crested helmet of a Cuirassier. Pre-eminent among all these works, +and among all military memoirs, are the famous reminiscences of Marbot, +which can be obtained in an English form. Marbot was a Chasseur, so +again we obtain the Cavalry point of view. Among other books which help +one to an understanding of the Napoleonic soldier I would specially +recommend “Les Cahiers du Capitaine Coignet,” which treat the wars from +the point of view of the private of the Guards, and “Les Memoires du +Sergeant Bourgoyne,” who was a non-commissioned officer in the same +corps. The Journal of Sergeant Fricasse and the Recollections of de +Fezenac and of de Segur complete the materials from which I have worked +in my endeavour to give a true historical and military atmosphere to an +imaginary figure. + +ARTHUR CONAN DOYLE. + +March, 1903. + + + + +CONTENTS + + I. HOW BRIGADIER GERARD LOST HIS EAR + + II. HOW THE BRIGADIER CAPTURED SARAGOSSA + + III. HOW THE BRIGADIER SLEW THE FOX + + IV. HOW THE BRIGADIER SAVED THE ARMY + + V. HOW THE BRIGADIER TRIUMPHED IN ENGLAND + + VI. HOW THE BRIGADIER RODE TO MINSK + + VII. HOW THE BRIGADE BORE HIMSELF AT WATERLOO + + VIII. THE LAST ADVENTURE OF THE BRIGADIER + + + + + +I. How Brigadier Gerard Lost His Ear + + +It was the old Brigadier who was talking in the cafe. + +I have seen a great many cities, my friends. I would not dare to tell +you how many I have entered as a conqueror with eight hundred of my +little fighting devils clanking and jingling behind me. The cavalry were +in front of the Grande Armee, and the Hussars of Conflans were in front +of the cavalry, and I was in front of the Hussars. But of all the cities +which we visited Venice is the most ill-built and ridiculous. I cannot +imagine how the people who laid it out thought that the cavalry could +manoeuvre. It would puzzle Murat or Lassalle to bring a squadron into +that square of theirs. For this reason we left Kellermann's heavy +brigade and also my own Hussars at Padua on the mainland. But +Suchet with the infantry held the town, and he had chosen me as his +aide-de-camp for that winter, because he was pleased about the affair +of the Italian fencing-master at Milan. The fellow was a good swordsman, +and it was fortunate for the credit of French arms that it was I who was +opposed to him. Besides, he deserved a lesson, for if one does not like +a prima donna's singing one can always be silent, but it is intolerable +that a public affront should be put upon a pretty woman. So the sympathy +was all with me, and after the affair had blown over and the man's widow +had been pensioned Suchet chose me as his own galloper, and I followed +him to Venice, where I had the strange adventure which I am about to +tell you. + +You have not been to Venice? No, for it is seldom that the French +travel. We were great travellers in those days. From Moscow to Cairo +we had travelled everywhere, but we went in larger parties than were +convenient to those whom we visited, and we carried our passports in +our limbers. It will be a bad day for Europe when the French start +travelling again, for they are slow to leave their homes, but when they +have done so no one can say how far they will go if they have a guide +like our little man to point out the way. But the great days are gone +and the great men are dead, and here am I, the last of them, drinking +wine of Suresnes and telling old tales in a cafe. + +But it is of Venice that I would speak. The folk there live like +water-rats upon a mud-bank, but the houses are very fine, and the +churches, especially that of St. Mark, are as great as any I have seen. +But above all they are proud of their statues and their pictures, which +are the most famous in Europe. There are many soldiers who think that +because one's trade is to make war one should never have a thought above +fighting and plunder. There was old Bouvet, for example--the one who was +killed by the Prussians on the day that I won the Emperor's medal; if +you took him away from the camp and the canteen, and spoke to him of +books or of art, he would sit and stare at you. But the highest soldier +is a man like myself who can understand the things of the mind and the +soul. It is true that I was very young when I joined the army, and that +the quarter-master was my only teacher, but if you go about the world +with your eyes open you cannot help learning a great deal. + +Thus I was able to admire the pictures in Venice, and to know the names +of the great men, Michael Titiens, and Angelus, and the others, who had +painted them. No one can say that Napoleon did not admire them also, for +the very first thing which he did when he captured the town was to send +the best of them to Paris. We all took what we could get, and I had two +pictures for my share. + +One of them, called “Nymphs Surprised,” I kept for myself, and the +other, “Saint Barbara,” I sent as a present for my mother. + +It must be confessed, however, that some of our men behaved very badly +in this matter of the statues and the pictures. The people at Venice +were very much attached to them, and as to the four bronze horses which +stood over the gate of their great church, they loved them as dearly as +if they had been their children. I have always been a judge of a horse, +and I had a good look at these ones, but I could not see that there was +much to be said for them. They were too coarse-limbed for light cavalry +charges and they had not the weight for the gun-teams. + +However, they were the only four horses, alive or dead, in the whole +town, so it was not to be expected that the people would know any +better. They wept bitterly when they were sent away, and ten French +soldiers were found floating in the canals that night. As a punishment +for these murders a great many more of their pictures were sent away, +and the soldiers took to breaking the statues and firing their muskets +at the stained-glass windows. + +This made the people furious, and there was very bad feeling in the +town. Many officers and men disappeared during that winter, and even +their bodies were never found. + +For myself I had plenty to do, and I never found the time heavy on +my hands. In every country it has been my custom to try to learn the +language. For this reason I always look round for some lady who will be +kind enough to teach it to me, and then we practise it together. This +is the most interesting way of picking it up, and before I was thirty I +could speak nearly every tongue in Europe; but it must be confessed that +what you learn is not of much use for the ordinary purposes of life. My +business, for example, has usually been with soldiers and peasants, and +what advantage is it to be able to say to them that I love only them, +and that I will come back when the wars are over? + +Never have I had so sweet a teacher as in Venice. Lucia was her first +name, and her second--but a gentleman forgets second names. I can say +this with all discretion, that she was of one of the senatorial families +of Venice and that her grandfather had been Doge of the town. + +She was of an exquisite beauty--and when I, Etienne Gerard, use such a +word as “exquisite,” my friends, it has a meaning. I have judgment, I +have memories, I have the means of comparison. Of all the women who have +loved me there are not twenty to whom I could apply such a term as that. +But I say again that Lucia was exquisite. + +Of the dark type I do not recall her equal unless it were Dolores of +Toledo. There was a little brunette whom I loved at Santarem when I was +soldiering under Massena in Portugal--her name has escaped me. She was +of a perfect beauty, but she had not the figure nor the grace of Lucia. +There was Agnes also. I could not put one before the other, but I do +none an injustice when I say that Lucia was the equal of the best. + +It was over this matter of pictures that I had first met her, for her +father owned a palace on the farther side of the Rialto Bridge upon the +Grand Canal, and it was so packed with wall-paintings that Suchet sent a +party of sappers to cut some of them out and send them to Paris. + +I had gone down with them, and after I had seen Lucia in tears it +appeared to me that the plaster would crack if it were taken from the +support of the wall. I said so, and the sappers were withdrawn. After +that I was the friend of the family, and many a flask of Chianti have +I cracked with the father and many a sweet lesson have I had from the +daughter. Some of our French officers married in Venice that winter, +and I might have done the same, for I loved her with all my heart; but +Etienne Gerard has his sword, his horse, his regiment, his mother, his +Emperor, and his career. A debonair Hussar has room in his life for +love, but none for a wife. So I thought then, my friends, but I did not +see the lonely days when I should long to clasp those vanished hands, +and turn my head away when I saw old comrades with their tall children +standing round their chairs. This love which I had thought was a joke +and a plaything--it is only now that I understand that it is the moulder +of one's life, the most solemn and sacred of all things--Thank you, my +friend, thank you! It is a good wine, and a second bottle cannot hurt. + +And now I will tell you how my love for Lucia was the cause of one +of the most terrible of all the wonderful adventures which have ever +befallen me, and how it was that I came to lose the top of my right ear. +You have often asked me why it was missing. To-night for the first time +I will tell you. + +Suchet's head-quarters at that time was the old palace of the Doge +Dandolo, which stands on the lagoon not far from the place of San Marco. +It was near the end of the winter, and I had returned one night from the +Theatre Goldini, when I found a note from Lucia and a gondola waiting. +She prayed me to come to her at once as she was in trouble. To a +Frenchman and a soldier there was but one answer to such a note. In an +instant I was in the boat and the gondolier was pushing out into the +dark lagoon. + +I remember that as I took my seat in the boat I was struck by the man's +great size. He was not tall, but he was one of the broadest men that +I have ever seen in my life. But the gondoliers of Venice are a strong +breed, and powerful men are common enough among them. The fellow took +his place behind me and began to row. + +A good soldier in an enemy's country should everywhere and at all times +be on the alert. It has been one of the rules of my life, and if I have +lived to wear grey hairs it is because I have observed it. And yet upon +that night I was as careless as a foolish young recruit who fears lest +he should be thought to be afraid. My pistols I had left behind in my +hurry. My sword was at my belt, but it is not always the most convenient +of weapons. I lay back in my seat in the gondola, lulled by the gentle +swish of the water and the steady creaking of the oar. Our way lay +through a network of narrow canals with high houses towering on either +side and a thin slit of star-spangled sky above us. Here and there, on +the bridges which spanned the canal, there was the dim glimmer of an oil +lamp, and sometimes there came a gleam from some niche where a candle +burned before the image of a saint. But save for this it was all black, +and one could only see the water by the white fringe which curled round +the long black nose of our boat. It was a place and a time for dreaming. +I thought of my own past life, of all the great deeds in which I had +been concerned, of the horses that I had handled, and of the women that +I had loved. Then I thought also of my dear mother, and I fancied her +joy when she heard the folk in the village talking about the fame of her +son. Of the Emperor also I thought, and of France, the dear fatherland, +the sunny France, mother of beautiful daughters and of gallant sons. My +heart glowed within me as I thought of how we had brought her colours +so many hundred leagues beyond her borders. To her greatness I would +dedicate my life. I placed my hand upon my heart as I swore it, and at +that instant the gondolier fell upon me from behind. + +When I say that he fell upon me I do not mean merely that he attacked +me, but that he really did tumble upon me with all his weight. The +fellow stands behind you and above you as he rows, so that you can +neither see him nor can you in any way guard against such an assault. + +One moment I had sat with my mind filled with sublime resolutions, the +next I was flattened out upon the bottom of the boat, the breath dashed +out of my body, and this monster pinning me down. I felt the fierce +pants of his hot breath upon the back of my neck. In an instant he had +torn away my sword, had slipped a sack over my head, and had tied a rope +firmly round the outside of it. + +There I was at the bottom of the gondola as helpless as a trussed fowl. +I could not shout, I could not move; I was a mere bundle. An instant +later I heard once more the swishing of the water and the creaking of +the oar. + +This fellow had done his work and had resumed his journey as quietly and +unconcernedly as if he were accustomed to clap a sack over a colonel of +Hussars every day of the week. + +I cannot tell you the humiliation and also the fury which filled my mind +as I lay there like a helpless sheep being carried to the butcher's. I, +Etienne Gerard, the champion of the six brigades of light cavalry and +the first swordsman of the Grand Army, to be overpowered by a single +unarmed man in such a fashion! Yet I lay quiet, for there is a time +to resist and there is a time to save one's strength. I had felt the +fellow's grip upon my arms, and I knew that I would be a child in his +hands. I waited quietly, therefore, with a heart which burned with rage, +until my opportunity should come. + +How long I lay there at the bottom of the boat I can not tell; but it +seemed to me to be a long time, and always there were the hiss of the +waters and the steady creaking of the oar. Several times we turned +corners, for I heard the long, sad cry which these gondoliers give when +they wish to warn their fellows that they are coming. At last, after a +considerable journey, I felt the side of the boat scrape up against a +landing-place. The fellow knocked three times with his oar upon wood, +and in answer to his summons I heard the rasping of bars and the turning +of keys. A great door creaked back upon its hinges. + +“Have you got him?” asked a voice, in Italian. + +My monster gave a laugh and kicked the sack in which I lay. + +“Here he is,” said he. + +“They are waiting.” He added something which I could not understand. + +“Take him, then,” said my captor. He raised me in his arms, ascended +some steps, and I was thrown down upon a hard floor. A moment later the +bars creaked and the key whined once more. I was a prisoner inside a +house. + +From the voices and the steps there seemed now to be several people +round me. I understand Italian a great deal better than I speak it, and +I could make out very well what they were saying. + +“You have not killed him, Matteo?” + +“What matter if I have?” + +“My faith, you will have to answer for it to the tribunal.” + +“They will kill him, will they not?” + +“Yes, but it is not for you or me to take it out of their hands.” + +“Tut! I have not killed him. Dead men do not bite, and his cursed teeth +met in my thumb as I pulled the sack over his head.” + +“He lies very quiet.” + +“Tumble him out and you will find that he is lively enough.” + +The cord which bound me was undone and the sack drawn from over my head. +With my eyes closed I lay motionless upon the floor. + +“By the saints, Matteo, I tell you that you have broken his neck.” + +“Not I. He has only fainted. The better for him if he never came out of +it again.” + +I felt a hand within my tunic. + +“Matteo is right,” said a voice. “His heart beats like a hammer. Let him +lie and he will soon find his senses.” + +I waited for a minute or so and then I ventured to take a stealthy peep +from between my lashes. At first I could see nothing, for I had been +so long in darkness and it was but a dim light in which I found myself. +Soon, however, I made out that a high and vaulted ceiling covered with +painted gods and goddesses was arching over my head. This was no mean +den of cut-throats into which I had been carried, but it must be the +hall of some Venetian palace. Then, without movement, very slowly and +stealthily I had a peep at the men who surrounded me. There was the +gondolier, a swart, hard-faced, murderous ruffian, and beside him were +three other men, one of them a little, twisted fellow with an air +of authority and several keys in his hand, the other two tall young +servants in a smart livery. As I listened to their talk I saw that the +small man was the steward of the house, and that the others were under +his orders. + +There were four of them, then, but the little steward might be left out +of the reckoning. Had I a weapon I should have smiled at such odds as +those. But, hand to hand, I was no match for the one even without three +others to aid him. Cunning, then, not force, must be my aid. I wished +to look round for some mode of escape, and in doing so I gave an almost +imperceptible movement of my head. Slight as it was it did not escape my +guardians. + +“Come, wake up, wake up!” cried the steward. + +“Get on your feet, little Frenchman,” growled the gondolier. “Get up, I +say,” and for the second time he spurned me with his foot. + +Never in the world was a command obeyed so promptly as that one. In an +instant I had bounded to my feet and rushed as hard as I could to the +back of the hall. They were after me as I have seen the English hounds +follow a fox, but there was a long passage down which I tore. + +It turned to the left and again to the left, and then I found myself +back in the hall once more. They were almost within touch of me and +there was no time for thought. I turned toward the staircase, but two +men were coming down it. I dodged back and tried the door through which +I had been brought, but it was fastened with great bars and I could not +loosen them. The gondolier was on me with his knife, but I met him with +a kick on the body which stretched him on his back. His dagger flew with +a clatter across the marble floor. I had no time to seize it, for there +were half a dozen of them now clutching at me. As I rushed through them +the little steward thrust his leg before me and I fell with a crash, but +I was up in an instant, and breaking from their grasp I burst through +the very middle of them and made for a door at the other end of the +hall. I reached it well in front of them, and I gave a shout of triumph +as the handle turned freely in my hand, for I could see that it led to +the outside and that all was clear for my escape. But I had forgotten +this strange city in which I was. Every house is an island. As I flung +open the door, ready to bound out into the street, the light of the hall +shone upon the deep, still, black water which lay flush with the topmost +step. + +I shrank back, and in an instant my pursuers were on me. + +But I am not taken so easily. Again I kicked and fought my way through +them, though one of them tore a handful of hair from my head in his +effort to hold me. The little steward struck me with a key and I was +battered and bruised, but once more I cleared a way in front of me. + +Up the grand staircase I rushed, burst open the pair of huge folding +doors which faced me, and learned at last that my efforts were in vain. + +The room into which I had broken was brilliantly lighted. With its gold +cornices, its massive pillars, and its painted walls and ceilings it was +evidently the grand hall of some famous Venetian palace. There are many +hundred such in this strange city, any one of which has rooms which +would grace the Louvre or Versailles. In the centre of this great hall +there was a raised dais, and upon it in a half circle there sat twelve +men all clad in black gowns, like those of a Franciscan monk, and each +with a mask over the upper part of his face. + +A group of armed men--rough-looking rascals--were standing round the +door, and amid them facing the dais was a young fellow in the uniform +of the light infantry. As he turned his head I recognised him. It was +Captain Auret, of the 7th, a young Basque with whom I had drunk many a +glass during the winter. + +He was deadly white, poor wretch, but he held himself manfully amid the +assassins who surrounded him. Never shall I forget the sudden flash of +hope which shone in his dark eyes when he saw a comrade burst into the +room, or the look of despair which followed as he understood that I had +come not to change his fate but to share it. + +You can think how amazed these people were when I hurled myself into +their presence. My pursuers had crowded in behind me and choked the +doorway, so that all further flight was out of the question. It is at +such instants that my nature asserts itself. With dignity I advanced +toward the tribunal. My jacket was torn, my hair was dishevelled, my +head was bleeding, but there was that in my eyes and in my carriage +which made them realise that no common man was before them. Not a hand +was raised to arrest me until I halted in front of a formidable old man, +whose long grey beard and masterful manner told me that both by years +and by character he was the man in authority. + +“Sir,” said I, “you will, perhaps, tell me why I have been forcibly +arrested and brought to this place. I am an honourable soldier, as is +this other gentleman here, and I demand that you will instantly set us +both at liberty.” + +There was an appalling silence to my appeal. It was not pleasant to +have twelve masked faces turned upon you and to see twelve pairs of +vindictive Italian eyes fixed with fierce intentness upon your face. But +I stood as a debonair soldier should, and I could not but reflect how +much credit I was bringing upon the Hussars of Conflans by the dignity +of my bearing. I do not think that anyone could have carried himself +better under such difficult circumstances. I looked with a fearless face +from one assassin to another, and I waited for some reply. + +It was the grey-beard who at last broke the silence. + +“Who is this man?” he asked. + +“His name is Gerard,” said the little steward at the door. + +“Colonel Gerard,” said I. “I will not deceive you. I am Etienne Gerard, +THE Colonel Gerard, five times mentioned in despatches and recommended +for the sword of honour. I am aide-de-camp to General Suchet, and I +demand my instant release, together with that of my comrade in arms.” + +The same terrible silence fell upon the assembly, and the same twelve +pairs of merciless eyes were bent upon my face. Again it was the +grey-beard who spoke. + +“He is out of his order. There are two names upon our list before him.” + +“He escaped from our hands and burst into the room.” + +“Let him await his turn. Take him down to the wooden cell.” + +“If he resist us, your Excellency?” + +“Bury your knives in his body. The tribunal will uphold you. Remove him +until we have dealt with the others.” + +They advanced upon me, and for an instant I thought of resistance. +It would have been a heroic death, but who was there to see it or to +chronicle it? I might be only postponing my fate, and yet I had been in +so many bad places and come out unhurt that I had learned always to hope +and to trust my star. I allowed these rascals to seize me, and I was led +from the room, the gondolier walking at my side with a long naked knife +in his hand. I could see in his brutal eyes the satisfaction which it +would give him if he could find some excuse for plunging it into my +body. + +They are wonderful places, these great Venetian houses, palaces, and +fortresses, and prisons all in one. I was led along a passage and down +a bare stone stair until we came to a short corridor from which three +doors opened. Through one of these I was thrust and the spring lock +closed behind me. The only light came dimly through a small grating +which opened on the passage. + +Peering and feeling, I carefully examined the chamber in which I had +been placed. I understood from what I had heard that I should soon have +to leave it again in order to appear before this tribunal, but still it +is not my nature to throw away any possible chances. + +The stone floor of the cell was so damp and the walls for some feet high +were so slimy and foul that it was evident they were beneath the level +of the water. A single slanting hole high up near the ceiling was the +only aperture for light or air. Through it I saw one bright star shining +down upon me, and the sight filled me with comfort and with hope. I have +never been a man of religion, though I have always had a respect for +those who were, but I remember that night that the star shining down the +shaft seemed to be an all-seeing eye which was upon me, and I felt as a +young and frightened recruit might feel in battle when he saw the calm +gaze of his colonel turned upon him. + +Three of the sides of my prison were formed of stone, but the fourth +was of wood, and I could see that it had only recently been erected. +Evidently a partition had been thrown up to divide a single large cell +into two smaller ones. There was no hope for me in the old walls, in the +tiny window, or in the massive door. It was only in this one direction +of the wooden screen that there was any possibility of exploring. My +reason told me that if I should pierce it--which did not seem very +difficult--it would only be to find myself in another cell as strong +as that in which I then was. Yet I had always rather be doing something +than doing nothing, so I bent all my attention and all my energies upon +the wooden wall. Two planks were badly joined, and so loose that I was +certain I could easily detach them. I searched about for some tool, +and I found one in the leg of a small bed which stood in the corner. I +forced the end of this into the chink of the planks, and I was about to +twist them outward when the sound of rapid footsteps caused me to pause +and to listen. + +I wish I could forget what I heard. Many a hundred men have I seen die +in battle, and I have slain more myself than I care to think of, but all +that was fair fight and the duty of a soldier. It was a very different +matter to listen to a murder in this den of assassins. They were pushing +someone along the passage, someone who resisted and who clung to my +door as he passed. They must have taken him into the third cell, the +one which was farthest from me. “Help! Help!” cried a voice, and then I +heard a blow and a scream. “Help! Help!” cried the voice again, and then +“Gerard! Colonel Gerard!” It was my poor captain of infantry whom they +were slaughtering. + +“Murderers! Murderers!” I yelled, and I kicked at my door, but again I +heard him shout and then everything was silent. A minute later there was +a heavy splash, and I knew that no human eye would ever see Auret again. +He had gone as a hundred others had gone whose names were missing from +the roll-calls of their regiments during that winter in Venice. + +The steps returned along the passage, and I thought that they were +coming for me. Instead of that they opened the door of the cell next to +mine and they took someone out of it. I heard the steps die away up the +stair. + +At once I renewed my work upon the planks, and within a very few minutes +I had loosened them in such a way that I could remove and replace them +at pleasure. Passing through the aperture I found myself in the farther +cell, which, as I expected, was the other half of the one in which I had +been confined. I was not any nearer to escape than I had been before, +for there was no other wooden wall which I could penetrate and the +spring lock of the door had been closed. There were no traces to show +who was my companion in misfortune. Closing the two loose planks behind +me I returned to my own cell and waited there with all the courage which +I could command for the summons which would probably be my death knell. + +It was a long time in coming, but at last I heard the sound of feet once +more in the passage, and I nerved myself to listen to some other odious +deed and to hear the cries of the poor victim. Nothing of the kind +occurred, however, and the prisoner was placed in the cell without +violence. I had no time to peep through my hole of communication, for +next moment my own door was flung open and my rascally gondolier, with +the other assassins, came into the cell. + +“Come, Frenchman,” said he. He held his blood-stained knife in his +great, hairy hand, and I read in his fierce eyes that he only looked for +some excuse in order to plunge it into my heart. Resistance was useless. +I followed without a word. I was led up the stone stair and back into +that gorgeous chamber in which I had left the secret tribunal. I was +ushered in, but to my surprise it was not on me that their attention +was fixed. One of their own number, a tall, dark young man, was standing +before them and was pleading with them in low, earnest tones. His +voice quivered with anxiety and his hands darted in and out or writhed +together in an agony of entreaty. “You cannot do it! You cannot do it!” + he cried. + +“I implore the tribunal to reconsider this decision.” + +“Stand aside, brother,” said the old man who presided. + +“The case is decided and another is up for judgment.” + +“For Heaven's sake be merciful!” cried the young man. + +“We have already been merciful,” the other answered. + +“Death would have been a small penalty for such an offence. Be silent +and let judgment take its course.” + +I saw the young man throw himself in an agony of grief into his chair. I +had no time, however, to speculate as to what it was which was troubling +him, for his eleven colleagues had already fixed their stern eyes upon +me. + +The moment of fate had arrived. + +“You are Colonel Gerard?” said the terrible old man. + +“I am.” + +“Aide-de-camp to the robber who calls himself General Suchet, who in +turn represents that arch-robber Buonaparte?” + +It was on my lips to tell him that he was a liar, but there is a time to +argue and a time to be silent. + +“I am an honourable soldier,” said I. “I have obeyed my orders and done +my duty.” + +The blood flushed into the old man's face and his eyes blazed through +his mask. + +“You are thieves and murderers, every man of you,” he cried. “What are +you doing here? You are Frenchmen. Why are you not in France? Did we +invite you to Venice? By what right are you here? Where are our +pictures? Where are the horses of St. Mark? Who are you that you should +pilfer those treasures which our fathers through so many centuries have +collected? We were a great city when France was a desert. Your drunken, +brawling, ignorant soldiers have undone the work of saints and heroes. +What have you to say to it?” + +He was, indeed, a formidable old man, for his white beard bristled with +fury and he barked out the little sentences like a savage hound. For +my part I could have told him that his pictures would be safe in Paris, +that his horses were really not worth making a fuss about, and that he +could see heroes--I say nothing of saints--without going back to his +ancestors or even moving out of his chair. All this I could have pointed +out, but one might as well argue with a Mameluke about religion. I +shrugged my shoulders and said nothing. + +“The prisoner has no defence,” said one of my masked judges. + +“Has any one any observation to make before judgment is passed?” The old +man glared round him at the others. + +“There is one matter, your Excellency,” said another. + +“It can scarce be referred to without reopening a brother's wounds, +but I would remind you that there is a very particular reason why an +exemplary punishment should be inflicted in the case of this officer.” + +“I had not forgotten it,” the old man answered. + +“Brother, if the tribunal has injured you in one direction, it will give +you ample satisfaction in another.” + +The young man who had been pleading when I entered the room staggered to +his feet. + +“I cannot endure it,” he cried. “Your Excellency must forgive me. The +tribunal can act without me. I am ill. I am mad.” He flung his hands out +with a furious gesture and rushed from the room. + +“Let him go! Let him go!” said the president. “It is, indeed, more than +can be asked of flesh and blood that he should remain under this roof. +But he is a true Venetian, and when the first agony is over he will +understand that it could not be otherwise.” + +I had been forgotten during this episode, and though I am not a man who +is accustomed to being overlooked I should have been all the happier +had they continued to neglect me. But now the old president glared at me +again like a tiger who comes back to his victim. + +“You shall pay for it all, and it is but justice that you should,” he +said. “You, an upstart adventurer and foreigner, have dared to raise +your eyes in love to the grand daughter of a Doge of Venice who was +already betrothed to the heir of the Loredans. He who enjoys such +privileges must pay a price for them.” + +“It cannot be higher than they are worth,” said I. + +“You will tell us that when you have made a part payment,” said he. +“Perhaps your spirit may not be so proud by that time. Matteo, you will +lead this prisoner to the wooden cell. To-night is Monday. Let him +have no food or water, and let him be led before the tribunal again +on Wednesday night. We shall then decide upon the death which he is to +die.” + +It was not a pleasant prospect, and yet it was a reprieve. One is +thankful for small mercies when a hairy savage with a blood-stained +knife is standing at one's elbow. He dragged me from the room and I was +thrust down the stairs and back into my cell. The door was locked and I +was left to my reflections. + +My first thought was to establish connection with my neighbour +in misfortune. I waited until the steps had died away, and then I +cautiously drew aside the two boards and peeped through. The light was +very dim, so dim that I could only just discern a figure huddled in the +corner, and I could hear the low whisper of a voice which prayed as one +prays who is in deadly fear. The boards must have made a creaking. There +was a sharp exclamation of surprise. + +“Courage, friend, courage!” I cried. “All is not lost. Keep a stout +heart, for Etienne Gerard is by your side.” + +“Etienne!” It was a woman's voice which spoke--a voice which was always +music to my ears. I sprang through the gap and I flung my arms round +her. + +“Lucia! Lucia!” I cried. + +It was “Etienne!” and “Lucia!” for some minutes, for one does not make +speeches at moments like that. It was she who came to her senses first. + +“Oh, Etienne, they will kill you. How came you into their hands?” + +“In answer to your letter.” + +“I wrote no letter.” + +“The cunning demons! But you?” + +“I came also in answer to your letter.” + +“Lucia, I wrote no letter.” + +“They have trapped us both with the same bait.” + +“I care nothing about myself, Lucia. Besides, there is no pressing +danger with me. They have simply returned me to my cell.” + +“Oh, Etienne, Etienne, they will kill you. Lorenzo is there.” + +“The old greybeard?” + +“No, no, a young dark man. He loved me, and I thought I loved him +until--until I learned what love is, Etienne. He will never forgive you. +He has a heart of stone.” + +“Let them do what they like. They cannot rob me of the past, Lucia. But +you--what about you?” + +“It will be nothing, Etienne. Only a pang for an instant and then all +over. They mean it as a badge of infamy, dear, but I will carry it like +a crown of honour since it was through you that I gained it.” + +Her words froze my blood with horror. All my adventures were +insignificant compared to this terrible shadow which was creeping over +my soul. + +“Lucia! Lucia!” I cried. “For pity's sake tell me what these butchers +are about to do. Tell me, Lucia! Tell me!” + +“I will not tell you, Etienne, for it would hurt you far more than +it would me. Well, well, I will tell you lest you should fear it was +something worse. The president has ordered that my ear be cut off, that +I may be marked for ever as having loved a Frenchman.” + +Her ear! The dear little ear which I had kissed so often. I put my hand +to each little velvet shell to make certain that this sacrilege had not +yet been committed. + +Only over my dead body should they reach them. I swore it to her between +my clenched teeth. + +“You must not care, Etienne. And yet I love that you should care all the +same.” + +“They shall not hurt you--the fiends!” + +“I have hopes, Etienne. Lorenzo is there. He was silent while I was +judged, but he may have pleaded for me after I was gone.” + +“He did. I heard him.” + +“Then he may have softened their hearts.” + +I knew that it was not so, but how could I bring myself to tell her? +I might as well have done so, for with the quick instinct of woman my +silence was speech to her. + +“They would not listen to him! You need not fear to tell me, dear, for +you will find that I am worthy to be loved by such a soldier. Where is +Lorenzo now?” + +“He left the hall.” + +“Then he may have left the house as well.” + +“I believe that he did.” + +“He has abandoned me to my fate. Etienne, Etienne, they are coming!” + +Afar off I heard those fateful steps and the jingle of distant keys. +What were they coming for now, since there were no other prisoners to +drag to judgment? It could only be to carry out the sentence upon my +darling. + +I stood between her and the door, with the strength of a lion in my +limbs. I would tear the house down before they should touch her. + + +“Go back! Go back!” she cried. “They will murder you, Etienne. My life, +at least, is safe. For the love you bear me, Etienne, go back. It is +nothing. I will make no sound. You will not hear that it is done.” + +She wrestled with me, this delicate creature, and by main force she +dragged me to the opening between the cells. But a sudden thought had +crossed my mind. + +“We may yet be saved,” I whispered. “Do what I tell you at once and +without argument. Go into my cell. Quick!” + +I pushed her through the gap and helped her to replace the planks. I had +retained her cloak in my hands, and with this wrapped round me I crept +into the darkest corner of her cell. There I lay when the door was +opened and several men came in. I had reckoned that they would bring no +lantern, for they had none with them before. + +To their eyes I was only a dark blur in the corner. + +“Bring a light,” said one of them. + +“No, no; curse it!” cried a rough voice, which I knew to be that of the +ruffian, Matteo. “It is not a job that I like, and the more I saw it +the less I should like it. I am sorry, signora, but the order of the +tribunal has to be obeyed.” + +My impulse was to spring to my feet and to rush through them all and +out by the open door. But how would that help Lucia? Suppose that I got +clear away, she would be in their hands until I could come back with +help, for single-handed I could not hope to clear a way for her. All +this flashed through my mind in an instant, and I saw that the only +course for me was to lie still, take what came, and wait my chance. The +fellow's coarse hand felt about among my curls--those curls in which +only a woman's fingers had ever wandered. The next instant he gripped my +ear and a pain shot through me as if I had been touched with a hot iron. +I bit my lip to stifle a cry, and I felt the blood run warm down my neck +and back. + +“There, thank Heaven, that's over,” said the fellow, giving me a +friendly pat on the head. “You're a brave girl, signora, I'll say +that for you, and I only wish you'd have better taste than to love a +Frenchman. You can blame him and not me for what I have done.” + +What could I do save to lie still and grind my teeth at my own +helplessness? At the same time my pain and my rage were always soothed +by the reflection that I had suffered for the woman whom I loved. It is +the custom of men to say to ladies that they would willingly endure any +pain for their sake, but it was my privilege to show that I had said no +more than I meant. I thought also how nobly I would seem to have +acted if ever the story came to be told, and how proud the regiment of +Conflans might well be of their colonel. These thoughts helped me +to suffer in silence while the blood still trickled over my neck and +dripped upon the stone floor. It was that sound which nearly led to my +destruction. + + +“She's bleeding fast,” said one of the valets. “You had best fetch a +surgeon or you will find her dead in the morning.” + +“She lies very still and she has never opened her mouth,” said another. +“The shock has killed her.” + +“Nonsense; a young woman does not die so easily.” It was Matteo who +spoke. “Besides, I did but snip off enough to leave the tribunal's mark +upon her. Rouse up, signora, rouse up!” + +He shook me by the shoulder, and my heart stood still for fear he should +feel the epaulet under the mantle. + +“How is it with you now?” he asked. + +I made no answer. + +“Curse it, I wish I had to do with a man instead of a woman, and the +fairest woman in Venice,” said the gondolier. “Here, Nicholas, lend me +your handkerchief and bring a light.” + +It was all over. The worst had happened. Nothing could save me. I still +crouched in the corner, but I was tense in every muscle, like a wild cat +about to spring. + +If I had to die I was determined that my end should be worthy of my +life. + +One of them had gone for a lamp and Matteo was stooping over me with a +handkerchief. In another instant my secret would be discovered. But he +suddenly drew himself straight and stood motionless. At the same instant +there came a confused murmuring sound through the little window far +above my head. It was the rattle of oars and the buzz of many voices. +Then there was a crash upon the door upstairs, and a terrible voice +roared: “Open! Open in the name of the Emperor!” + +The Emperor! It was like the mention of some saint which, by its very +sound, can frighten the demons. + +Away they ran with cries of terror--Matteo, the valets, the steward, all +of the murderous gang. Another shout and then the crash of a hatchet and +the splintering of planks. There were the rattle of arms and the cries +of French soldiers in the hall. Next instant feet came flying down the +stair and a man burst frantically into my cell. + +“Lucia!” he cried, “Lucia!” He stood in the dim light, panting and +unable to find his words. Then he broke out again. “Have I not shown you +how I love you, Lucia? What more could I do to prove it? I have betrayed +my country, I have broken my vow, I have ruined my friends, and I have +given my life in order to save you.” + +It was young Lorenzo Loredan, the lover whom I had superseded. My heart +was heavy for him at the time, but after all it is every man for himself +in love, and if one fails in the game it is some consolation to lose to +one who can be a graceful and considerate winner. + +I was about to point this out to him, but at the first word I uttered he +gave a shout of astonishment, and, rushing out, he seized the lamp which +hung in the corridor and flashed it in my face. + +“It is you, you villain!” he cried. “You French coxcomb. You shall pay +me for the wrong which you have done me.” + +But the next instant he saw the pallor of my face and the blood which +was still pouring from my head. + +“What is this?” he asked. “How come you to have lost your ear?” + +I shook off my weakness, and pressing my handkerchief to my wound I rose +from my couch, the debonair colonel of Hussars. + +“My injury, sir, is nothing. With your permission we will not allude to +a matter so trifling and so personal.” + +But Lucia had burst through from her cell and was pouring out the whole +story while she clasped Lorenzo's arm. + +“This noble gentleman--he has taken my place, Lorenzo! He has borne it +for me. He has suffered that I might be saved.” + +I could sympathise with the struggle which I could see in the Italian's +face. At last he held out his hand to me. + +“Colonel Gerard,” he said, “you are worthy of a great love. I forgive +you, for if you have wronged me you have made a noble atonement. But I +wonder to see you alive. I left the tribunal before you were judged, +but I understood that no mercy would be shown to any Frenchman since the +destruction of the ornaments of Venice.” + +“He did not destroy them,” cried Lucia. “He has helped to preserve those +in our palace.” + +“One of them, at any rate,” said I, as I stooped and kissed her hand. + +This was the way, my friends, in which I lost my ear. Lorenzo was found +stabbed to the heart in the Piazza of St. Mark within two days of the +night of my adventure. Of the tribunal and its ruffians, Matteo and +three others were shot, the rest banished from the town. + +Lucia, my lovely Lucia, retired into a convent at Murano after the +French had left the city, and there she still may be, some gentle lady +abbess who has perhaps long forgotten the days when our hearts throbbed +together, and when the whole great world seemed so small a thing beside +the love which burned in our veins. Or perhaps it may not be so. Perhaps +she has not forgotten. + +There may still be times when the peace of the cloister is broken by the +memory of the old soldier who loved her in those distant days. Youth +is past and passion is gone, but the soul of the gentleman can never +change, and still Etienne Gerard would bow his grey head before her and +would very gladly lose his other ear if he might do her a service. + + + + +II. How the Brigadier Captured Saragossa + +Have I ever told you, my friends, the circumstances connected with my +joining the Hussars of Conflans at the time of the siege of Saragossa +and the very remarkable exploit which I performed in connection with the +taking of that city? No? Then you have indeed something still to learn. +I will tell it to you exactly as it occurred. Save for two or three men +and a score or two of women, you are the first who have ever heard the +story. + +You must know, then, that it was in the Second Hussars--called the +Hussars of Chamberan--that I had served as a lieutenant and as a junior +captain. At the time I speak of I was only twenty-five years of age, as +reckless and desperate a man as any in that great army. + +It chanced that the war had come to a halt in Germany, while it was +still raging in Spain, so the Emperor, wishing to reinforce the Spanish +army, transferred me as senior captain to the Hussars of Conflans, which +were at that time in the Fifth Army Corps under Marshal Lannes. + +It was a long journey from Berlin to the Pyrenees. + +My new regiment formed part of the force which, under Marshal Lannes, +was then besieging the Spanish town of Saragossa. I turned my horse's +head in that direction, therefore, and behold me a week or so later +at the French headquarters, whence I was directed to the camp of the +Hussars of Conflans. + +You have read, no doubt, of this famous siege of Saragossa, and I will +only say that no general could have had a harder task than that with +which Marshal Lannes was confronted. The immense city was crowded with +a horde of Spaniards--soldiers, peasants, priests--all filled with the +most furious hatred of the French, and the most savage determination to +perish before they would surrender. There were eighty thousand men in +the town and only thirty thousand to besiege them. Yet we had a powerful +artillery, and our engineers were of the best. There was never such a +siege, for it is usual that when the fortifications are taken the city +falls, but here it was not until the fortifications were taken that +the real fighting began. Every house was a fort and every street +a battle-field, so that slowly, day by day, we had to work our way +inwards, blowing up the houses with their garrisons until more than half +the city had disappeared. Yet the other half was as determined as ever +and in a better position for defence, since it consisted of enormous +convents and monasteries with walls like the Bastille, which could not +be so easily brushed out of our way. This was the state of things at the +time that I joined the army. + +I will confess to you that cavalry are not of much use in a siege, +although there was a time when I would not have permitted anyone to have +made such an observation. The Hussars of Conflans were encamped to the +south of the town, and it was their duty to throw out patrols and to +make sure that no Spanish force was advancing from that quarter. The +colonel of the regiment was not a good soldier, and the regiment was at +that time very far from being in the high condition which it afterwards +attained. Even in that one evening I saw several things which shocked +me, for I had a high standard, and it went to my heart to see an +ill-arranged camp, an ill-groomed horse, or a slovenly trooper. That +night I supped with twenty-six of my new brother-officers, and I fear +that in my zeal I showed them only too plainly that I found things very +different to what I was accustomed in the army of Germany. + +There was silence in the mess after my remarks, and I felt that I had +been indiscreet when I saw the glances that were cast at me. The colonel +especially was furious, and a great major named Olivier, who was the +fire-eater of the regiment, sat opposite to me curling his huge black +moustaches, and staring at me as if he would eat me. However, I did not +resent his attitude, for I felt that I had indeed been indiscreet, and +that it would give a bad impression if upon this my first evening I +quarrelled with my superior officer. + +So far I admit that I was wrong, but now I come to the sequel. Supper +over, the colonel and some other officers left the room, for it was in +a farm-house that the mess was held. There remained a dozen or so, and +a goat-skin of Spanish wine having been brought in we all made merry. +Presently this Major Olivier asked me some questions concerning the army +of Germany and as to the part which I had myself played in the campaign. +Flushed with the wine, I was drawn on from story to story. It was not +unnatural, my friends. + +You will sympathise with me. Up there I had been the model for every +officer of my years in the army. I was the first swordsman, the most +dashing rider, the hero of a hundred adventures. Here I found myself not +only unknown, but even disliked. Was it not natural that I should wish +to tell these brave comrades what sort of man it was that had come +among them? Was it not natural that I should wish to say, “Rejoice, my +friends, rejoice! It is no ordinary man who has joined you to-night, but +it is I, THE Gerard, the hero of Ratisbon, the victor of Jena, the man +who broke the square at Austerlitz”? I could not say all this. But I +could at least tell them some incidents which would enable them to say +it for themselves. I did so. They listened unmoved. I told them more. At +last, after my tale of how I had guided the army across the Danube, one +universal shout of laughter broke from them all. I sprang to my feet, +flushed with shame and anger. They had drawn me on. They were making +game of me. They were convinced that they had to do with a braggart and +a liar. Was this my reception in the Hussars of Conflans? + +I dashed the tears of mortification from my eyes, and they laughed the +more at the sight. + +“Do you know, Captain Pelletan, whether Marshal Lannes is still with the +army?” asked the major. + +“I believe that he is, sir,” said the other. + +“Really, I should have thought that his presence was hardly necessary +now that Captain Gerard has arrived.” + +Again there was a roar of laughter. I can see the ring of faces, the +mocking eyes, the open mouths--Olivier with his great black bristles, +Pelletan thin and sneering, even the young sub-lieutenants convulsed +with merriment. Heavens, the indignity of it! But my rage had dried my +tears. I was myself again, cold, quiet, self-contained, ice without and +fire within. + +“May I ask, sir,” said I to the major, “at what hour the regiment is +paraded?” + +“I trust, Captain Gerard, that you do not mean to alter our hours,” said +he, and again there was a burst of laughter, which died away as I looked +slowly round the circle. + +“What hour is the assembly?” I asked, sharply, of Captain Pelletan. + +Some mocking answer was on his tongue, but my glance kept it there. “The +assembly is at six,” he answered. + +“I thank you,” said I. I then counted the company and found that I had +to do with fourteen officers, two of whom appeared to be boys fresh +from St. Cyr. I could not condescend to take any notice of their +indiscretion. + +There remained the major, four captains, and seven lieutenants. + +“Gentlemen,” I continued, looking from one to the other of them, “I +should feel myself unworthy of this famous regiment if I did not ask you +for satisfaction for the rudeness with which you have greeted me, and +I should hold you to be unworthy of it if on any pretext you refused to +grant it.” + +“You will have no difficulty upon that score,” said the major. “I am +prepared to waive my rank and to give you every satisfaction in the name +of the Hussars of Conflans.” + +“I thank you,” I answered. “I feel, however, that I have some claim upon +these other gentlemen who laughed at my expense.” + +“Whom would you fight, then?” asked Captain Pelletan. + +“All of you,” I answered. + +They looked in surprise from one to the other. Then they drew off to the +other end of the room, and I heard the buzz of their whispers. They were +laughing. Evidently they still thought that they had to do with some +empty braggart. Then they returned. + +“Your request is unusual,” said Major Olivier, “but it will be granted. +How do you propose to conduct such a duel? The terms lie with you.” + +“Sabres,” said I. “And I will take you in order of seniority, beginning +with you, Major Olivier, at five o'clock. I will thus be able to devote +five minutes to each before the assembly is blown. I must, however, beg +you to have the courtesy to name the place of meeting, since I am still +ignorant of the locality.” + +They were impressed by my cold and practical manner. + +Already the smile had died away from their lips. + +Olivier's face was no longer mocking, but it was dark and stern. + +“There is a small open space behind the horse lines,” said he. “We have +held a few affairs of honour there and it has done very well. We shall +be there, Captain Gerard, at the hour you name.” + +I was in the act of bowing to thank them for their acceptance when the +door of the mess-room was flung open and the colonel hurried into the +room, with an agitated face. + +“Gentlemen,” said he, “I have been asked to call for a volunteer from +among you for a service which involves the greatest possible danger. +I will not disguise from you that the matter is serious in the last +degree, and that Marshal Lannes has chosen a cavalry officer because +he can be better spared than an officer of infantry or of engineers. +Married men are not eligible. Of the others, who will volunteer?” + +I need not say that all the unmarried officers stepped to the front. The +colonel looked round in some embarrassment. + +I could see his dilemma. It was the best man who should go, and yet it +was the best man whom he could least spare. + +“Sir,” said I, “may I be permitted to make a suggestion?” + +He looked at me with a hard eye. He had not forgotten my observations at +supper. “Speak!” said he. + +“I would point out, sir,” said I, “that this mission is mine both by +right and by convenience.” + +“Why so, Captain Gerard?” + +“By right because I am the senior captain. By convenience because I +shall not be missed in the regiments since the men have not yet learned +to know me.” + +The colonel's features relaxed. + +“There is certainly truth in what you say, Captain Gerard,” said he. “I +think that you are indeed best fitted to go upon this mission. If you +will come with me I will give you your instructions.” + +I wished my new comrades good-night as I left the room, and I repeated +that I should hold myself at their disposal at five o'clock next +morning. They bowed in silence, and I thought that I could see from the +expression of their faces that they had already begun to take a more +just view of my character. + +I had expected that the colonel would at once inform me what it was that +I had been chosen to do, but instead of that he walked on in silence, I +following behind him. + +We passed through the camp and made our way across the trenches and +over the ruined heaps of stones which marked the old wall of the town. +Within, there was a labyrinth of passages formed among the debris of the +houses which had been destroyed by the mines of the engineers. Acres and +acres were covered with splintered walls and piles of brick which +had once been a populous suburb. Lanes had been driven through it and +lanterns placed at the corners with inscriptions to direct the wayfarer. +The colonel hurried onward until at last, after a long walk, we found +our way barred by a high grey wall which stretched right across our +path. + +Here behind a barricade lay our advance guard. The colonel led me into a +roofless house, and there I found two general officers, a map stretched +over a drum in front of them, they kneeling beside it and examining it +carefully by the light of a lantern. The one with the clean-shaven face +and the twisted neck was Marshal Lannes, the other was General Razout, +the head of the engineers. + +“Captain Gerard has volunteered to go,” said the colonel. + +Marshal Lannes rose from his knees and shook me by the hand. + +“You are a brave man, sir,” said he. “I have a present to make to you,” + he added, handing me a very tiny glass tube. “It has been specially +prepared by Dr. Fardet. At the supreme moment you have but to put it to +your lips and you will be dead in an instant.” + +This was a cheerful beginning. I will confess to you, my friends, that a +cold chill passed up my back and my hair rose upon my head. + +“Excuse me, sir,” said I, as I saluted, “I am aware that I have +volunteered for a service of great danger, but the exact details have +not yet been given to me.” + +“Colonel Perrin,” said Lannes, severely, “it is unfair to allow this +brave officer to volunteer before he has learned what the perils are to +which he will be exposed.” + +But already I was myself once more. + +“Sir,” said I, “permit me to remark that the greater the danger the +greater the glory, and that I could only repent of volunteering if I +found that there were no risks to be run.” + +It was a noble speech, and my appearance gave force to my words. For the +moment I was a heroic figure. + +As I saw Lannes's eyes fixed in admiration upon my face it thrilled me +to think how splendid was the debut which I was making in the army +of Spain. If I died that night my name would not be forgotten. My new +comrades and my old, divided in all else, would still have a point of +union in their love and admiration of Etienne Gerard. + +“General Razout, explain the situation!” said Lannes, briefly. + +The engineer officer rose, his compasses in his hand. + +He led me to the door and pointed to the high grey wall which towered up +amongst the debris of the shattered houses. + +“That is the enemy's present line of defence,” said he. “It is the wall +of the great Convent of the Madonna. If we can carry it the city must +fall, but they have run countermines all round it, and the walls are so +enormously thick that it would be an immense labour to breach it +with artillery. We happen to know, however, that the enemy have a +considerable store of powder in one of the lower chambers. If that could +be exploded the way would be clear for us.” + +“How can it be reached?” I asked. + +“I will explain. We have a French agent within the town named Hubert. +This brave man has been in constant communication with us, and he +had promised to explode the magazine. It was to be done in the early +morning, and for two days running we have had a storming party of a +thousand Grenadiers waiting for the breach to be formed. But there has +been no explosion, and for these two days we have had no communication +from Hubert. The question is, what has become of him?” + +“You wish me to go and see?” + +“Precisely. Is he ill, or wounded, or dead? Shall we still wait for him, +or shall we attempt the attack elsewhere? We cannot determine this until +we have heard from him. This is a map of the town, Captain Gerard. You +perceive that within this ring of convents and monasteries are a number +of streets which branch off from a central square. If you come so far as +this square you will find the cathedral at one corner. In that corner is +the street of Toledo. Hubert lives in a small house between a cobbler's +and a wine-shop, on the right-hand side as you go from the cathedral. Do +you follow me?” + +“Clearly.” + +“You are to reach that house, to see him, and to find out if his plan is +still feasible or if we must abandon it.” + +He produced what appeared to be a roll of dirty brown flannel. “This is +the dress of a Franciscan friar,” said he. “You will find it the most +useful disguise.” + +I shrank away from it. + +“It turns me into a spy,” I cried. “Surely I can go in my uniform?” + +“Impossible! How could you hope to pass through the streets of the city? +Remember, also, that the Spaniards take no prisoners, and that your fate +will be the same in whatever dress you are taken.” + +It was true, and I had been long enough in Spain to know that that fate +was likely to be something more serious than mere death. All the way +from the frontier I had heard grim tales of torture and mutilation. I +enveloped myself in the Franciscan gown. + +“Now I am ready.” + +“Are you armed?” + +“My sabre.” + +“They will hear it clank. Take this knife, and leave your sword. Tell +Hubert that at four o'clock, before dawn, the storming party will again +be ready. There is a sergeant outside who will show you how to get into +the city. Good-night, and good luck!” + +Before I had left the room, the two generals had their cocked hats +touching each other over the map. At the door an under-officer of +engineers was waiting for me. + +I tied the girdle of my gown, and taking off my busby, I drew the cowl +over my head. My spurs I removed. Then in silence I followed my guide. + +It was necessary to move with caution, for the walls above were lined by +the Spanish sentries, who fired down continually at our advance posts. +Slinking along under the very shadow of the great convent, we picked +our way slowly and carefully among the piles of ruins until we came to a +large chestnut tree. Here the sergeant stopped. + +“It is an easy tree to climb,” said he. “A scaling ladder would not be +simpler. Go up it, and you will find that the top branch will enable +you to step upon the roof of that house. After that it is your guardian +angel who must be your guide, for I can help you no more.” + +Girding up the heavy brown gown, I ascended the tree as directed. A half +moon was shining brightly, and the line of roof stood out dark and hard +against the purple, starry sky. The tree was in the shadow of the house. + +Slowly I crept from branch to branch until I was near the top. I had but +to climb along a stout limb in order to reach the wall. But suddenly +my ears caught the patter of feet, and I cowered against the trunk and +tried to blend myself with its shadow. A man was coming toward me on the +roof. I saw his dark figure creeping along, his body crouching, his head +advanced, the barrel of his gun protruding. His whole bearing was full +of caution and suspicion. Once or twice he paused, and then came on +again until he had reached the edge of the parapet within a few yards of +me. Then he knelt down, levelled his musket, and fired. + +I was so astonished at this sudden crash at my very elbow that I nearly +fell out of the tree. For an instant I could not be sure that he had +not hit me. But when I heard a deep groan from below, and the Spaniard +leaned over the parapet and laughed aloud, I understood what had +occurred. It was my poor, faithful sergeant, who had waited to see the +last of me. The Spaniard had seen him standing under the tree and had +shot him. You will think that it was good shooting in the dark, but +these people used trabucos, or blunderbusses, which were filled up with +all sorts of stones and scraps of metal, so that they would hit you +as certainly as I have hit a pheasant on a branch. The Spaniard stood +peering down through the darkness, while an occasional groan from below +showed that the sergeant was still living. The sentry looked round and +everything was still and safe. + +Perhaps he thought that he would like to finish of this accursed +Frenchman, or perhaps he had a desire to see what was in his pockets; +but whatever his motive, he laid down his gun, leaned forward, and swung +himself into the tree. The same instant I buried my knife in his body, +and he fell with a loud crashing through the branches and came with a +thud to the ground. I heard a short struggle below and an oath or two in +French. + +The wounded sergeant had not waited long for his vengeance. + +For some minutes I did not dare to move, for it seemed certain that +someone would be attracted by the noise. + +However, all was silent save for the chimes striking midnight in the +city. I crept along the branch and lifted myself on to the roof. The +Spaniard's gun was lying there, but it was of no service to me, since he +had the powder-horn at his belt. At the same time, if it were found, it +would warn the enemy that something had happened, so I thought it best +to drop it over the wall. + +Then I looked round for the means of getting off the roof and down into +the city. + +It was very evident that the simplest way by which I could get down was +that by which the sentinel had got up, and what this was soon became +evident. A voice along the roof called “Manuelo! Manuelo!” several +times, and, crouching in the shadow, I saw in the moonlight a bearded +head, which protruded from a trap-door. + +Receiving no answer to his summons, the man climbed through, followed +by three other fellows, all armed to the teeth. You will see here how +important it is not to neglect small precautions, for had I left the +man's gun where I found it, a search must have followed and I should +certainly have been discovered. As it was, the patrol saw no sign of +their sentry, and thought, no doubt, that he had moved along the line of +the roofs. + +They hurried on, therefore, in that direction, and I, the instant that +their backs were turned, rushed to the open trap-door and descended the +flight of steps which led from it. The house appeared to be an empty +one, for I passed through the heart of it and out, by an open door, into +the street beyond. + +It was a narrow and deserted lane, but it opened into a broader road, +which was dotted with fires, round which a great number of soldiers and +peasants were sleeping. + +The smell within the city was so horrible that one wondered how people +could live in it, for during the months that the siege had lasted there +had been no attempt to cleanse the streets or to bury the dead. Many +people were moving up and down from fire to fire, and among them I +observed several monks. Seeing that they came and went unquestioned, I +took heart and hurried on my way in the direction of the great square. +Once a man rose from beside one of the fires and stopped me by seizing +my sleeve. He pointed to a woman who lay motionless on the road, and +I took him to mean that she was dying, and that he desired me to +administer the last offices of the Church. I sought refuge, however, in +the very little Latin that was left to me. “Ora pro nobis,” said I, from +the depths of my cowl. “Te Deum laudamus. Ora pro nobis.” I raised my +hand as I spoke and pointed forward. The fellow released my sleeve and +shrank back in silence, while I, with a solemn gesture, hurried upon my +way. + +As I had imagined, this broad boulevard led out into the central square, +which was full of troops and blazing with fires. I walked swiftly +onward, disregarding one or two people who addressed remarks to me. I +passed the cathedral and followed the street which had been described to +me. Being upon the side of the city which was farthest from our attack, +there were no troops encamped in it, and it lay in darkness, save for an +occasional glimmer in a window. It was not difficult to find the house +to which I had been directed, between the wine-shop and the cobbler's. +There was no light within and the door was shut. Cautiously I pressed +the latch, and I felt that it had yielded. Who was within I could not +tell, and yet I must take the risk. I pushed the door open and entered. + +It was pitch-dark within--the more so as I had closed the door behind +me. I felt round and came upon the edge of a table. Then I stood still +and wondered what I should do next, and how I could gain some news of +this Hubert, in whose house I found myself. Any mistake would cost me +not only my life but the failure of my mission. Perhaps he did not live +alone. Perhaps he was only a lodger in a Spanish family, and my visit +might bring ruin to him as well as to myself. Seldom in my life have I +been more perplexed. And then, suddenly, something turned my blood cold +in my veins. It was a voice, a whispering voice, in my very ear. “Mon +Dieu!” cried the voice, in a tone of agony. “Oh, mon Dieu! mon Dieu!” + Then there was a dry sob in the darkness, and all was still once more. + +It thrilled me with horror, that terrible voice, but it thrilled me also +with hope, for it was the voice of a Frenchman. + +“Who is there?” I asked. + +There was a groaning, but no reply. + +“Is that you, Monsieur Hubert?” + +“Yes, yes,” sighed the voice, so low that I could hardly hear it. +“Water, water, for Heaven's sake, water!” + +I advanced in the direction of the sound, but only to come in contact +with the wall. Again I heard a groan, but this time there could be no +doubt that it was above my head. I put up my hands, but they felt only +empty air. + +“Where are you?” I cried. + +“Here! Here!” whispered the strange, tremulous voice. + +I stretched my hand along the wall and I came upon a man's naked foot. +It was as high as my face, and yet, so far as I could feel, it had +nothing to support it. I staggered back in amazement. Then I took a +tinder-box from my pocket and struck a light. At the first flash a man +seemed to be floating in the air in front of me, and I dropped the box +in my amazement. Again with tremulous fingers I struck the flint against +the steel, and this time I lit not only the tinder but the wax taper. I +held it up, and if my amazement was lessened my horror was increased by +that which it revealed. + +The man had been nailed to the wall as a weasel is nailed to the door of +a barn. Huge spikes had been driven through his hands and his feet. The +poor wretch was in his last agony, his head sunk upon his shoulder and +his blackened tongue protruding from his lips. He was dying as much +from thirst as from his wounds, and these inhuman wretches had placed a +beaker of wine upon the table in front of him to add a fresh pang to his +tortures. + +I raised it to his lips. He had still strength enough to swallow, and +the light came back a little to his dim eyes. + +“Are you a Frenchman?” he whispered. + +“Yes. They have sent me to learn what had befallen you.” + +“They discovered me. They have killed me for it. But before I die let me +tell you what I know. A little more of that wine, please! Quick! Quick! +I am very near the end. My strength is going. Listen to me! The powder +is stored in the Mother Superior's room. The wall is pierced, and the +end of the train is in Sister Angela's cell, next the chapel. All was +ready two days ago. But they discovered a letter and they tortured me.” + +“Good heavens! have you been hanging here for two days?” + +“It seems like two years. Comrade, I have served France, have I not? +Then do one little service for me. Stab me to the heart, dear friend! I +implore you, I entreat you, to put an end to my sufferings.” + +The man was indeed in a hopeless plight, and the kindest action would +have been that for which he begged. + +And yet I could not in cold blood drive my knife into his body, although +I knew how I should have prayed for such a mercy had I been in his +place. But a sudden thought crossed my mind. In my pocket I held +that which would give an instant and a painless death. It was my own +safeguard against torture, and yet this poor soul was in very pressing +need of it, and he had deserved well of France. I took out my phial and +emptied it into the cup of wine. I was in the act of handing it to him +when I heard a sudden clash of arms outside the door. + +In an instant I put out my light and slipped behind the window-curtains. +Next moment the door was flung open and two Spaniards strode into the +room, fierce, swarthy men in the dress of citizens, but with muskets +slung over their shoulders. I looked through the chink in the curtains +in an agony of fear lest they had come upon my traces, but it was +evident that their visit was simply in order to feast their eyes upon my +unfortunate compatriot. + +One of them held the lantern which he carried up in front of the dying +man, and both of them burst into a shout of mocking laughter. Then the +eyes of the man with the lantern fell upon the flagon of wine upon the +table. He picked it up, held it, with a devilish grin, to the lips of +Hubert, and then, as the poor wretch involuntarily inclined his head +forward to reach it, he snatched it back and took a long gulp himself. +At the same instant he uttered a loud cry, clutched wildly at his own +throat, and fell stone-dead upon the floor. His comrade stared at him in +horror and amazement. Then, overcome by his own superstitious fears, he +gave a yell of terror and rushed madly from the room. I heard his feet +clattering wildly on the cobble-stones until the sound died away in the +distance. + +The lantern had been left burning upon the table, and by its light I +saw, as I came out from behind my curtain, that the unfortunate Hubert's +head had fallen forward upon his chest and that he also was dead. That +motion to reach the wine with his lips had been his last. A clock ticked +loudly in the house, but otherwise all was absolutely still. On the wall +hung the twisted form of the Frenchman, on the floor lay the motionless +body of the Spaniard, all dimly lit by the horn lantern. For the first +time in my life a frantic spasm of terror came over me. I had seen ten +thousand men in every conceivable degree of mutilation stretched upon +the ground, but the sight had never affected me like those two silent +figures who were my companions in that shadowy room. I rushed into the +street as the Spaniard had done, eager only to leave that house of gloom +behind me, and I had run as far as the cathedral before my wits came +back to me. + +There I stopped, panting, in the shadow, and, my hand pressed to my +side, I tried to collect my scattered senses and to plan out what I +should do. As I stood there, breathless, the great brass bells roared +twice above my head. It was two o'clock. Four was the hour when the +storming-party would be in its place. I had still two hours in which to +act. + +The cathedral was brilliantly lit within, and a number of people were +passing in and out; so I entered, thinking that I was less likely to +be accosted there, and that I might have quiet to form my plans. It +was certainly a singular sight, for the place had been turned into +an hospital, a refuge, and a store-house. One aisle was crammed with +provisions, another was littered with sick and wounded, while in the +centre a great number of helpless people had taken up their abode, and +had even lit their cooking fires upon the mosaic floors. There were many +at prayer, so I knelt in the shadow of a pillar, and I prayed with +all my heart that I might have the good luck to get out of this scrape +alive, and that I might do such a deed that night as would make my name +as famous in Spain as it had already become in Germany. I waited until +the clock struck three, and then I left the cathedral and made my +way toward the Convent of the Madonna, where the assault was to be +delivered. You will understand, you who know me so well, that I was not +the man to return tamely to the French camp with the report that our +agent was dead and that other means must be found of entering the city. +Either I should find some means to finish his uncompleted task or there +would be a vacancy for a senior captain in the Hussars of Conflans. + +I passed unquestioned down the broad boulevard, which I have already +described, until I came to the great stone convent which formed the +outwork of the defence. + +It was built in a square with a garden in the centre. In this garden +some hundreds of men were assembled, all armed and ready, for it was +known, of course, within the town that this was the point against which +the French attack was likely to be made. Up to this time our fighting +all over Europe had always been done between one army and another. It +was only here in Spain that we learned how terrible a thing it is to +fight against a people. + +On the one hand there is no glory, for what glory could be gained +by defeating this rabble of elderly shopkeepers, ignorant peasants, +fanatical priests, excited women, and all the other creatures who made +up the garrison? On the other hand there were extreme discomfort and +danger, for these people would give you no rest, would observe no rules +of war, and were desperately earnest in their desire by hook or by crook +to do you an injury. I began to realise how odious was our task as I +looked upon the motley but ferocious groups who were gathered round the +watch-fires in the garden of the Convent of the Madonna. It was not for +us soldiers to think about politics, but from the beginning there always +seemed to be a curse upon this war in Spain. + +However, at the moment I had no time to brood over such matters as +these. There was, as I have said, no difficulty in getting as far as the +convent garden, but to pass inside the convent unquestioned was not so +easy. + +The first thing which I did was to walk round the garden, and I was soon +able to pick out one large stained-glass window which must belong to the +chapel. I had understood from Hubert that the Mother Superior's room, +in which the powder was stored, was near to this, and that the train +had been laid through a hole in the wall from some neighbouring cell. I +must, at all costs, get into the convent. There was a guard at the door, +and how could I get in without explanations? But a sudden inspiration +showed me how the thing might be done. In the garden was a well, and +beside the well were a number of empty buckets. I filled two of these, +and approached the door. The errand of a man who carries a bucket of +water in each hand does not need to be explained. The guard opened to +let me through. I found myself in a long, stone-flagged corridor, lit +with lanterns, with the cells of the nuns leading out from one side of +it. Now at last I was on the high road to success. I walked on without +hesitation, for I knew by my observations in the garden which way to go +for the chapel. + +A number of Spanish soldiers were lounging and smoking in the corridor, +several of whom addressed me as I passed. I fancy it was for my blessing +that they asked, and my “Ora pro nobis” seemed to entirely satisfy them. +Soon I had got as far as the chapel, and it was easy enough to see that +the cell next door was used as a magazine, for the floor was all black +with powder in front of it. The door was shut, and two fierce-looking +fellows stood on guard outside it, one of them with a key stuck in his +belt. Had we been alone, it would not have been long before it would +have been in my hand, but with his comrade there it was impossible for +me to hope to take it by force. The cell next door to the magazine on +the far side from the chapel must be the one which belonged to Sister +Angela. It was half open. I took my courage in both hands and, leaving +my buckets in the corridor, I walked unchallenged into the room. + +I was prepared to find half a dozen fierce Spanish desperadoes within, +but what actually met my eyes was even more embarrassing. The room had +apparently been set aside for the use of some of the nuns, who for some +reason had refused to quit their home. Three of them were within, one +an elderly, stern-faced dame, who was evidently the Mother Superior, the +others, young ladies of charming appearance. They were seated together +at the far side of the room, but they all rose at my entrance, and I saw +with some amazement, by their manner and expressions, that my coming was +both welcome and expected. In a moment my presence of mind had returned, +and I saw exactly how the matter lay. + +Naturally, since an attack was about to be made upon the convent, these +sisters had been expecting to be directed to some place of safety. +Probably they were under vow not to quit the walls, and they had been +told to remain in this cell until they received further orders. + +In any case I adapted my conduct to this supposition, since it was clear +that I must get them out of the room, and this would give me a ready +excuse to do so. I first cast a glance at the door and observed that +the key was within. I then made a gesture to the nuns to follow me. The +Mother Superior asked me some question, but I shook my head impatiently +and beckoned to her again. + +She hesitated, but I stamped my foot and called them forth in so +imperious a manner that they came at once. + +They would be safer in the chapel, and thither I led them, placing them +at the end which was farthest from the magazine. As the three nuns took +their places before the altar my heart bounded with joy and pride within +me, for I felt that the last obstacle had been lifted from my path. + +And yet how often have I not found that that is the very moment of +danger? I took a last glance at the Mother Superior, and to my dismay I +saw that her piercing dark eyes were fixed, with an expression in which +surprise was deepening into suspicion, upon my right hand. There were +two points which might well have attracted her attention. One was that +it was red with the blood of the sentinel whom I had stabbed in the +tree. That alone might count for little, as the knife was as familiar as +the breviary to the monks of Saragossa. + +But on my forefinger I wore a heavy gold ring--the gift of a certain +German baroness whose name I may not mention. It shone brightly in +the light of the altar lamp. Now, a ring upon a friar's hand is an +impossibility, since they are vowed to absolute poverty. + +I turned quickly and made for the door of the chapel, but the mischief +was done. As I glanced back I saw that the Mother Superior was already +hurrying after me. I ran through the chapel door and along the corridor, +but she called out some shrill warning to the two guards in front. +Fortunately I had the presence of mind to call out also, and to point +down the passage as if we were both pursuing the same object. Next +instant I had dashed past them, sprang into the cell, slammed the heavy +door, and fastened it upon the inside. + +With a bolt above and below and a huge lock in the centre it was a piece +of timber that would take some forcing. + +Even now if they had had the wit to put a barrel of powder against the +door I should have been ruined. It was their only chance, for I had come +to the final stage of my adventure. Here at last, after such a string of +dangers as few men have ever lived to talk of, I was at one end of +the powder train, with the Saragossa magazine at the other. They were +howling like wolves out in the passage, and muskets were crashing +against the door. I paid no heed to their clamour, but I looked eagerly +around for that train of which Hubert had spoken. Of course, it must be +at the side of the room next to the magazine. I crawled along it on my +hands and knees, looking into every crevice, but no sign could I see. +Two bullets flew through the door and flattened themselves against the +wall. The thudding and smashing grew ever louder. I saw a grey pile in +a corner, flew to it with a cry of joy, and found that it was only dust. +Then I got back to the side of the door where no bullets could ever +reach me--they were streaming freely into the room--and I tried to +forget this fiendish howling in my ear and to think out where this train +could be. It must have been carefully laid by Hubert lest these nuns +should see it. I tried to imagine how I should myself have arranged it +had I been in his place. + +My eye was attracted by a statue of St. Joseph which stood in the +corner. There was a wreath of leaves along the edge of the pedestal, +with a lamp burning amidst them. I rushed across to it and tore the +leaves aside. + +Yes, yes, there was a thin black line, which disappeared through a small +hole in the wall. I tilted over the lamp and threw myself on the ground. +Next instant came a roar like thunder, the walls wavered and tottered +around me, the ceiling clattered down from above, and over the yell of +the terrified Spaniards was heard the terrific shout of the storming +column of Grenadiers. As in a dream--a happy dream--I heard it, and then +I heard no more. + +When I came to my senses two French soldiers were propping me up, and my +head was singing like a kettle. + +I staggered to my feet and looked around me. The plaster had fallen, +the furniture was scattered, and there were rents in the bricks, but no +signs of a breach. In fact, the walls of the convent had been so solid +that the explosion of the magazine had been insufficient to throw them +down. On the other hand, it had caused such a panic among the defenders +that our stormers had been able to carry the windows and throw open the +doors almost without assistance. As I ran out into the corridor I found +it full of troops, and I met Marshal Lannes himself, who was entering +with his staff. He stopped and listened eagerly to my story. + +“Splendid, Captain Gerard, splendid!” he cried. + +“These facts will certainly be reported to the Emperor.” + +“I would suggest to your Excellency,” said I, “that I have only finished +the work that was planned and carried out by Monsieur Hubert, who gave +his life for the cause.” + +“His services will not be forgotten,” said the Marshal. + +“Meanwhile, Captain Gerard, it is half-past four, and you must be +starving after such a night of exertion. My staff and I will breakfast +inside the city. I assure you that you will be an honoured guest.” + +“I will follow your Excellency,” said I. “There is a small engagement +which detains me.” + +He opened his eyes. + +“At this hour?” + +“Yes, sir,” I answered. “My fellow-officers, whom I never saw until last +night, will not be content unless they catch another glimpse of me the +first thing this morning.” + +“Au revoir, then,” said Marshal Lannes, as he passed upon his way. + +I hurried through the shattered door of the convent. + +When I reached the roofless house in which we had held the consultation +the night before, I threw off my gown and I put on the busby and sabre +which I had left there. + +Then, a Hussar once more, I hurried onward to the grove which was +our rendezvous. My brain was still reeling from the concussion of the +powder, and I was exhausted by the many emotions which had shaken me +during that terrible night. It is like a dream, all that walk in the +first dim grey light of dawn, with the smouldering camp-fires around +me and the buzz of the waking army. Bugles and drums in every direction +were mustering the infantry, for the explosion and the shouting had told +their own tale. I strode onward until, as I entered the little clump of +cork oaks behind the horse lines, I saw my twelve comrades waiting in +a group, their sabres at their sides. They looked at me curiously as I +approached. Perhaps with my powder-blackened face and my blood-stained +hands I seemed a different Gerard to the young captain whom they had +made game of the night before. + +“Good morning, gentlemen,” said I. “I regret exceedingly if I have kept +you waiting, but I have not been master of my own time.” + +They said nothing, but they still scanned me with curious eyes. I can +see them now, standing in a line before me, tall men and short men, +stout men and thin men: Olivier, with his warlike moustache; the thin, +eager face of Pelletan; young Oudin, flushed by his first duel; Mortier, +with the sword-cut across his wrinkled brow. + +I laid aside my busby and drew my sword. + +“I have one favour to ask you, gentlemen,” said I. + +“Marshal Lannes has invited me to breakfast and I cannot keep him +waiting.” + +“What do you suggest?” asked Major Olivier. + +“That you release me from my promise to give you five minutes each, and +that you will permit me to attack you all together.” I stood upon my +guard as I spoke. + +But their answer was truly beautiful and truly French. With one impulse +the twelve swords flew from their scabbards and were raised in salute. +There they stood, the twelve of them, motionless, their heels together, +each with his sword upright before his face. + +I staggered back from them. I looked from one to the other. For an +instant I could not believe my own eyes. They were paying me homage, +these, the men who had jeered me! Then I understood it all. I saw the +effect that I had made upon them and their desire to make reparation. +When a man is weak he can steel himself against danger, but not against +emotion. + +“Comrades,” I cried, “comrades--!” but I could say no more. + +Something seemed to take me by the throat and choke me. And then in +an instant Olivier's arms were round me, Pelletan had seized me by the +right hand, Mortier by the left, some were patting me on the shoulder, +some were clapping me on the back, on every side smiling faces were +looking into mine; and so it was that I knew that I had won my footing +in the Hussars of Conflans. + + + + +III. How the Brigadier Slew the Fox [*] + + + [*] This story, already published in The Green Flag, is + included here so that all of the Brigadier Gerard stories + may appear together. + + +In all the great hosts of France there was only one officer toward +whom the English of Wellington's Army retained a deep, steady, and +unchangeable hatred. + +There were plunderers among the French, and men of violence, gamblers, +duellists, and roues. All these could be forgiven, for others of their +kidney were to be found among the ranks of the English. But one officer +of Massena's force had committed a crime which was unspeakable, unheard +of, abominable; only to be alluded to with curses late in the evening, +when a second bottle had loosened the tongues of men. The news of it was +carried back to England, and country gentlemen who knew little of the +details of the war grew crimson with passion when they heard of it, and +yeomen of the shires raised freckled fists to Heaven and swore. And +yet who should be the doer of this dreadful deed but our friend the +Brigadier, Etienne Gerard, of the Hussars of Conflans, gay-riding, +plume-tossing, debonair, the darling of the ladies and of the six +brigades of light cavalry. + +But the strange part of it is that this gallant gentleman did this +hateful thing, and made himself the most unpopular man in the Peninsula, +without ever knowing that he had done a crime for which there is hardly +a name amid all the resources of our language. He died of old age, +and never once in that imperturbable self-confidence which adorned or +disfigured his character knew that so many thousand Englishmen would +gladly have hanged him with their own hands. On the contrary, he +numbered this adventure among those other exploits which he has given to +the world, and many a time he chuckled and hugged himself as he narrated +it to the eager circle who gathered round him in that humble cafe where, +between his dinner and his dominoes, he would tell, amid tears and +laughter, of that inconceivable Napoleonic past when France, like +an angel of wrath, rose up, splendid and terrible, before a cowering +continent. Let us listen to him as he tells the story in his own way and +from his own point of view. + +You must know, my friends, said he, that it was toward the end of the +year eighteen hundred and ten that I and Massena and the others pushed +Wellington backward until we had hoped to drive him and his army into +the Tagus. But when we were still twenty-five miles from Lisbon we found +that we were betrayed, for what had this Englishman done but build an +enormous line of works and forts at a place called Torres Vedras, so +that even we were unable to get through them! They lay across the whole +Peninsula, and our army was so far from home that we did not dare to +risk a reverse, and we had already learned at Busaco that it was no +child's play to fight against these people. What could we do, then, but +sit down in front of these lines and blockade them to the best of +our power? There we remained for six months, amid such anxieties that +Massena said afterward that he had not one hair which was not white upon +his body. + +For my own part, I did not worry much about our situation, but I looked +after our horses, who were in much need of rest and green fodder. For +the rest, we drank the wine of the country and passed the time as best +we might. There was a lady at Santarem--but my lips are sealed. It is +the part of a gallant man to say nothing, though he may indicate that he +could say a great deal. + +One day Massena sent for me, and I found him in his tent with a great +plan pinned upon the table. He looked at me in silence with that single +piercing eye of his, and I felt by his expression that the matter +was serious. He was nervous and ill at ease, but my bearing seemed to +reassure him. It is good to be in contact with brave men. + +“Colonel Etienne Gerard,” said he, “I have always heard that you are a +very gallant and enterprising officer.” + +It was not for me to confirm such a report, and yet it would be folly to +deny it, so I clinked my spurs together and saluted. + +“You are also an excellent rider.” + +I admitted it. + +“And the best swordsman in the six brigades of light cavalry.” + +Massena was famous for the accuracy of his information. + +“Now,” said he, “if you will look at this plan you will have no +difficulty in understanding what it is that I wish you to do. These are +the lines of Torres Vedras. You will perceive that they cover a vast +space, and you will realise that the English can only hold a position +here and there. Once through the lines you have twenty-five miles of +open country which lie between them and Lisbon. It is very important +to me to learn how Wellington's troops are distributed throughout that +space, and it is my wish that you should go and ascertain.” + +His words turned me cold. + +“Sir,” said I, “it is impossible that a colonel of light cavalry should +condescend to act as a spy.” + +He laughed and clapped me on the shoulder. + +“You would not be a Hussar if you were not a hot-head,” said he. “If you +will listen you will understand that I have not asked you to act as a +spy. What do you think of that horse?” + +He had conducted me to the opening of his tent, and there was a chasseur +who led up and down a most admirable creature. He was a dapple grey, not +very tall, a little over fifteen hands perhaps, but with the short +head and splendid arch of the neck which comes with the Arab blood. His +shoulders and haunches were so muscular, and yet his legs so fine, +that it thrilled me with joy just to gaze upon him. A fine horse or a +beautiful woman--I cannot look at them unmoved, even now when seventy +winters have chilled my blood. You can think how it was in the year '10. + +“This,” said Massena, “is Voltigeur, the swiftest horse in our army. +What I desire is that you should start tonight, ride round the lines +upon the flank, make your way across the enemy's rear, and return upon +the other flank, bringing me news of his disposition. You will wear a +uniform, and will, therefore, if captured, be safe from the death of a +spy. It is probable that you will get through the lines unchallenged, +for the posts are very scattered. Once through, in daylight you can +outride anything which you meet, and if you keep off the roads you +may escape entirely unnoticed. If you have not reported yourself by +to-morrow night, I will understand that you are taken, and I will offer +them Colonel Petrie in exchange.” + +Ah, how my heart swelled with pride and joy as I sprang into the saddle +and galloped this grand horse up and down to show the Marshal +the mastery which I had of him! He was magnificent--we were both +magnificent, for Massena clapped his hands and cried out in his delight. + +It was not I, but he, who said that a gallant beast deserves a gallant +rider. Then, when for the third time, with my panache flying and my +dolman streaming behind me, I thundered past him, I saw upon his hard +old face that he had no longer any doubt that he had chosen the man for +his purpose. I drew my sabre, raised the hilt to my lips in salute, and +galloped on to my own quarters. + +Already the news had spread that I had been chosen for a mission, and +my little rascals came swarming out of their tents to cheer me. Ah! +it brings the tears to my old eyes when I think how proud they were of +their Colonel. + +And I was proud of them also. They deserved a dashing leader. + +The night promised to be a stormy one, which was very much to my liking. +It was my desire to keep my departure most secret, for it was evident +that if the English heard that I had been detached from the army they +would naturally conclude that something important was about to happen. +My horse was taken, therefore, beyond the picket line, as if for +watering, and I followed and mounted him there. I had a map, a compass, +and a paper of instructions from the Marshal, and with these in the +bosom of my tunic and my sabre at my side I set out upon my adventure. + +A thin rain was falling and there was no moon, so you may imagine that +it was not very cheerful. But my heart was light at the thought of +the honour which had been done me and the glory which awaited me. This +exploit should be one more in that brilliant series which was to change +my sabre into a baton. Ah, how we dreamed, we foolish fellows, young, +and drunk with success! Could I have foreseen that night as I rode, +the chosen man of sixty thousand, that I should spend my life planting +cabbages on a hundred francs a month! Oh, my youth, my hopes, my +comrades! But the wheel turns and never stops. Forgive me, my friends, +for an old man has his weakness. + +My route, then, lay across the face of the high ground of Torres Vedras, +then over a streamlet, past a farmhouse which had been burned down and +was now only a landmark, then through a forest of young cork oaks, and +so to the monastery of San Antonio, which marked the left of the English +position. Here I turned south and rode quietly over the downs, for it +was at this point that Massena thought that it would be most easy for me +to find my way unobserved through the position. I went very slowly, +for it was so dark that I could not see my hand in front of me. In +such cases I leave my bridle loose and let my horse pick its own way. +Voltigeur went confidently forward, and I was very content to sit upon +his back and to peer about me, avoiding every light. + +For three hours we advanced in this cautious way, until it seemed to +me that I must have left all danger behind me. I then pushed on more +briskly, for I wished to be in the rear of the whole army by daybreak. +There are many vineyards in these parts which in winter become open +plains, and a horseman finds few difficulties in his way. + +But Massena had underrated the cunning of these English, for it appears +that there was not one line of defence but three, and it was the third, +which was the most formidable, through which I was at that instant +passing. As I rode, elated at my own success, a lantern flashed suddenly +before me, and I saw the glint of polished gun-barrels and the gleam of +a red coat. + +“Who goes there?” cried a voice--such a voice! I swerved to the right +and rode like a madman, but a dozen squirts of fire came out of the +darkness, and the bullets whizzed all round my ears. That was no new +sound to me, my friends, though I will not talk like a foolish conscript +and say that I have ever liked it. But at least it had never kept me +from thinking clearly, and so I knew that there was nothing for it +but to gallop hard and try my luck elsewhere. I rode round the English +picket, and then, as I heard nothing more of them, I concluded rightly +that I had at last come through their defences. + +For five miles I rode south, striking a tinder from time to time to look +at my pocket compass. And then in an instant--I feel the pang once more +as my memory brings back the moment--my horse, without a sob or staggers +fell stone-dead beneath me! + +I had never known it, but one of the bullets from that infernal picket +had passed through his body. The gallant creature had never winced nor +weakened, but had gone while life was in him. One instant I was secure +on the swiftest, most graceful horse in Massena's army. The next he lay +upon his side, worth only the price of his hide, and I stood there that +most helpless, most ungainly of creatures, a dismounted Hussar. What +could I do with my boots, my spurs, my trailing sabre? I was far inside +the enemy's lines. How could I hope to get back again? + +I am not ashamed to say that I, Etienne Gerard, sat upon my dead horse +and sank my face in my hands in my despair. + +Already the first streaks were whitening the east. + +In half an hour it would be light. That I should have won my way past +every obstacle and then at this last instant be left at the mercy of my +enemies, my mission ruined, and myself a prisoner--was it not enough to +break a soldier's heart? + +But courage, my friends! We have these moments of weakness, the bravest +of us; but I have a spirit like a slip of steel, for the more you bend +it the higher it springs. + +One spasm of despair, and then a brain of ice and a heart of fire. All +was not yet lost. I who had come through so many hazards would come +through this one also. I rose from my horse and considered what had best +be done. + +And first of all it was certain that I could not get back. Long before I +could pass the lines it would be broad daylight. I must hide myself for +the day, and then devote the next night to my escape. I took the saddle, +holsters, and bridle from poor Voltigeur, and I concealed them among +some bushes, so that no one finding him could know that he was a French +horse. Then, leaving him lying there, I wandered on in search of some +place where I might be safe for the day. In every direction I could see +camp fires upon the sides of the hills, and already figures had begun to +move around them. I must hide quickly, or I was lost. + +But where was I to hide? It was a vineyard in which I found myself, the +poles of the vines still standing, but the plants gone. There was no +cover there. Besides, I should want some food and water before another +night had come. I hurried wildly onward through the waning darkness, +trusting that chance would be my friend. + +And I was not disappointed. Chance is a woman, my friends, and she has +her eye always upon a gallant Hussar. + +Well, then, as I stumbled through the vineyard, something loomed in +front of me, and I came upon a great square house with another long, low +building upon one side of it. Three roads met there, and it was easy to +see that this was the posada, or wine-shop. + +There was no light in the windows, and everything was dark and silent, +but, of course, I knew that such comfortable quarters were certainly +occupied, and probably by someone of importance. I have learned, +however, that the nearer the danger may really be the safer place, and +so I was by no means inclined to trust myself away from this shelter. +The low building was evidently the stable, and into this I crept, for +the door was unlatched. + +The place was full of bullocks and sheep, gathered there, no doubt, to +be out of the clutches of marauders. + +A ladder led to a loft, and up this I climbed and concealed myself very +snugly among some bales of hay upon the top. This loft had a small open +window, and I was able to look down upon the front of the inn and also +upon the road. There I crouched and waited to see what would happen. + +It was soon evident that I had not been mistaken when I had thought that +this might be the quarters of some person of importance. Shortly after +daybreak an English light dragoon arrived with a despatch, and from then +onward the place was in a turmoil, officers continually riding up and +away. Always the same name was upon their lips: “Sir Stapleton--Sir +Stapleton.” + +It was hard for me to lie there with a dry moustache and watch the +great flagons which were brought out by the landlord to these +English officers. But it amused me to look at their fresh-coloured, +clean-shaven, careless faces, and to wonder what they would think if +they knew that so celebrated a person was lying so near to them. And +then, as I lay and watched, I saw a sight which filled me with surprise. + +It is incredible the insolence of these English! What do you suppose +Milord Wellington had done when he found that Massena had blockaded him +and that he could not move his army? I might give you many guesses. You +might say that he had raged, that he had despaired, that he had brought +his troops together and spoken to them about glory and the fatherland +before leading them to one last battle. No, Milord did none of these +things. But he sent a fleet ship to England to bring him a number of +fox-dogs; and he with his officers settled himself down to chase the +fox. It is true what I tell you. Behind the lines of Torres Vedras these +mad Englishmen made the fox chase three days in the week. + +We had heard of it in the camp, and now I was myself to see that it was +true. + +For, along the road which I have described, there came these very dogs, +thirty or forty of them, white and brown, each with its tail at the same +angle, like the bayonets of the Old Guard. My faith, but it was a pretty +sight! And behind and amidst them there rode three men with peaked caps +and red coats, whom I understood to be the hunters. After them came many +horsemen with uniforms of various kinds, stringing along the roads in +twos and threes, talking together and laughing. + +They did not seem to be going above a trot, and it appeared to me that +it must indeed be a slow fox which they hoped to catch. However, it was +their affair, not mine, and soon they had all passed my window and were +out of sight. I waited and I watched, ready for any chance which might +offer. + +Presently an officer, in a blue uniform not unlike that of our flying +artillery, came cantering down the road--an elderly, stout man he was, +with grey side-whiskers. He stopped and began to talk with an orderly +officer of dragoons, who waited outside the inn, and it was then that I +learned the advantage of the English which had been taught me. I could +hear and understand all that was said. + +“Where is the meet?” said the officer, and I thought that he was +hungering for his bifstek. But the other answered him that it was near +Altara, so I saw that it was a place of which he spoke. + +“You are late, Sir George,” said the orderly. + +“Yes, I had a court-martial. Has Sir Stapleton Cotton gone?” + +At this moment a window opened, and a handsome young man in a very +splendid uniform looked out of it. + +“Halloa, Murray!” said he. “These cursed papers keep me, but I will be +at your heels.” + +“Very good, Cotton. I am late already, so I will ride on.” + +“You might order my groom to bring round my horse,” said the young +General at the window to the orderly below, while the other went on down +the road. + +The orderly rode away to some outlying stable, and then in a few minutes +there came a smart English groom with a cockade in his hat, leading +by the bridle a horse--and, oh, my friends, you have never known the +perfection to which a horse can attain until you have seen a first-class +English hunter. He was superb: tall, broad, strong, and yet as graceful +and agile as a deer. Coal black he was in colour, and his neck, and his +shoulder, and his quarters, and his fetlocks--how can I describe him all +to you? The sun shone upon him as on polished ebony, and he raised his +hoofs in a little playful dance so lightly and prettily, while he tossed +his mane and whinnied with impatience. Never have I seen such a mixture +of strength and beauty and grace. I had often wondered how the English +Hussars had managed to ride over the chasseurs of the Guards in the +affair at Astorga, but I wondered no longer when I saw the English +horses. + +There was a ring for fastening bridles at the door of the inn, and the +groom tied the horse there while he entered the house. In an instant I +had seen the chance which Fate had brought to me. Were I in that saddle +I should be better off than when I started. Even Voltigeur could not +compare with this magnificent creature. To think is to act with me. In +one instant I was down the ladder and at the door of the stable. The +next I was out and the bridle was in my hand. I bounded into the saddle. + +Somebody, the master or the man, shouted wildly behind me. What cared I +for his shouts! I touched the horse with my spurs and he bounded forward +with such a spring that only a rider like myself could have sat him. I +gave him his head and let him go--it did not matter to me where, so +long as we left this inn far behind us. He thundered away across the +vineyards, and in a very few minutes I had placed miles between myself +and my pursuers. They could no longer tell in that wild country in which +direction I had gone. I knew that I was safe, and so, riding to the +top of a small hill, I drew my pencil and note-book from my pocket and +proceeded to make plans of those camps which I could see and to draw the +outline of the country. + +He was a dear creature upon whom I sat, but it was not easy to draw upon +his back, for every now and then his two ears would cock, and he would +start and quiver with impatience. At first I could not understand this +trick of his, but soon I observed that he only did it when a peculiar +noise--“yoy, yoy, yoy”--came from somewhere among the oak woods beneath +us. And then suddenly this strange cry changed into a most terrible +screaming, with the frantic blowing of a horn. Instantly he went +mad--this horse. His eyes blazed. His mane bristled. He bounded from +the earth and bounded again, twisting and turning in a frenzy. My pencil +flew one way and my note-book another. And then, as I looked down into +the valley, an extraordinary sight met my eyes. + +The hunt was streaming down it. The fox I could not see, but the dogs +were in full cry, their noses down, their tails up, so close together +that they might have been one great yellow and white moving carpet. And +behind them rode the horsemen--my faith, what a sight! Consider every +type which a great army could show. Some in hunting dress, but the most +in uniforms: blue dragoons, red dragoons, red-trousered hussars, green +riflemen, artillerymen, gold-slashed lancers, and most of all red, red, +red, for the infantry officers ride as hard as the cavalry. + +Such a crowd, some well mounted, some ill, but all flying along as best +they might, the subaltern as good as the general, jostling and pushing, +spurring and driving, with every thought thrown to the winds save +that they should have the blood of this absurd fox! Truly, they are an +extraordinary people, the English! + +But I had little time to watch the hunt or to marvel at these islanders, +for of all these mad creatures the very horse upon which I sat was +the maddest. You understand that he was himself a hunter, and that the +crying of these dogs was to him what the call of a cavalry trumpet in +the street yonder would be to me. It thrilled him. It drove him wild. +Again and again he bounded into the air, and then, seizing the bit +between his teeth, he plunged down the slope and galloped after the +dogs. + +I swore, and tugged, and pulled, but I was powerless. + +This English General rode his horse with a snaffle only, and the beast +had a mouth of iron. It was useless to pull him back. One might as well +try to keep a grenadier from a wine-bottle. I gave it up in despair, +and, settling down in the saddle, I prepared for the worst which could +befall. + +What a creature he was! Never have I felt such a horse between my knees. +His great haunches gathered under him with every stride, and he shot +forward ever faster and faster, stretched like a greyhound, while +the wind beat in my face and whistled past my ears. I was wearing our +undress jacket, a uniform simple and dark in itself--though some figures +give distinction to any uniform--and I had taken the precaution to +remove the long panache from my busby. The result was that, amidst the +mixture of costumes in the hunt, there was no reason why mine should +attract attention, or why these men, whose thoughts were all with the +chase, should give any heed to me. The idea that a French officer might +be riding with them was too absurd to enter their minds. I laughed as I +rode, for, indeed, amid all the danger, there was something of comic in +the situation. + +I have said that the hunters were very unequally mounted, and so at the +end of a few miles, instead of being one body of men, like a charging +regiment, they were scattered over a considerable space, the better +riders well up to the dogs and the others trailing away behind. + +Now, I was as good a rider as any, and my horse was the best of them +all, and so you can imagine that it was not long before he carried me +to the front. And when I saw the dogs streaming over the open, and +the red-coated huntsman behind them, and only seven or eight horsemen +between us, then it was that the strangest thing of all happened, for I, +too, went mad--I, Etienne Gerard! + +In a moment it came upon me, this spirit of sport, this desire to excel, +this hatred of the fox. Accursed animal, should he then defy us? Vile +robber, his hour was come! + +Ah, it is a great feeling, this feeling of sport, my friends, this +desire to trample the fox under the hoofs of your horse. I have made +the fox chase with the English. I have also, as I may tell you some day, +fought the box-fight with the Bustler, of Bristol. And I say to you that +this sport is a wonderful thing--full of interest as well as madness. + +The farther we went the faster galloped my horse, and soon there were +but three men as near the dogs as I was. + +All thought of fear of discovery had vanished. My brain throbbed, my +blood ran hot--only one thing upon earth seemed worth living for, and +that was to overtake this infernal fox. I passed one of the horsemen--a +Hussar like myself. There were only two in front of me now: the one in a +black coat, the other the blue artilleryman whom I had seen at the inn. +His grey whiskers streamed in the wind, but he rode magnificently. For a +mile or more we kept in this order, and then, as we galloped up a steep +slope, my lighter weight brought me to the front. + +I passed them both, and when I reached the crown I was riding level with +the little, hard-faced English huntsman. + +In front of us were the dogs, and then, a hundred paces beyond them, was +a brown wisp of a thing, the fox itself, stretched to the uttermost. The +sight of him fired my blood. “Aha, we have you then, assassin!” I cried, +and shouted my encouragement to the huntsman. I waved my hand to show +him that there was one upon whom he could rely. + +And now there were only the dogs between me and my prey. These dogs, +whose duty it is to point out the game, were now rather a hindrance than +a help to us, for it was hard to know how to pass them. The huntsman +felt the difficulty as much as I, for he rode behind them, and could +make no progress toward the fox. He was a swift rider, but wanting in +enterprise. For my part, I felt that it would be unworthy of the Hussars +of Conflans if I could not overcome such a difficulty as this. + +Was Etienne Gerard to be stopped by a herd of fox-dogs? + +It was absurd. I gave a shout and spurred my horse. + +“Hold hard, sir! Hold hard!” cried the huntsman. + +He was uneasy for me, this good old man, but I reassured him by a wave +and a smile. The dogs opened in front of me. One or two may have been +hurt, but what would you have? The egg must be broken for the omelette. +I could hear the huntsman shouting his congratulations behind me. One +more effort, and the dogs were all behind me. Only the fox was in front. + +Ah, the joy and pride of that moment! To know that I had beaten the +English at their own sport. Here were three hundred, all thirsting for +the life of this animal, and yet it was I who was about to take it. I +thought of my comrades of the light cavalry brigade, of my mother, of +the Emperor, of France. I had brought honour to each and all. Every +instant brought me nearer to the fox. The moment for action had arrived, +so I unsheathed my sabre. I waved it in the air, and the brave English +all shouted behind me. + +Only then did I understand how difficult is this fox chase, for one may +cut again and again at the creature and never strike him once. He is +small, and turns quickly from a blow. At every cut I heard those shouts +of encouragement from behind me, and they spurred me to yet another +effort. And then at last the supreme moment of my triumph arrived. In +the very act of turning I caught him fair with such another back-handed +cut as that with which I killed the aide-de-camp of the Emperor of +Russia. He flew into two pieces, his head one way and his tail another. +I looked back and waved the blood-stained sabre in the air. For the +moment I was exalted--superb! + +Ah! how I should have loved to have waited to have received the +congratulations of these generous enemies. + +There were fifty of them in sight, and not one who was not waving his +hand and shouting. They are not really such a phlegmatic race, the +English. A gallant deed in war or in sport will always warm their +hearts. As to the old huntsman, he was the nearest to me, and I could +see with my own eyes how overcome he was by what he had seen. He was +like a man paralysed, his mouth open, his hand, with outspread fingers, +raised in the air. For a moment my inclination was to return and to +embrace him. + +But already the call of duty was sounding in my ears, and these English, +in spite of all the fraternity which exists among sportsmen, would +certainly have made me prisoner. There was no hope for my mission now, +and I had done all that I could do. I could see the lines of Massena's +camp no very great distance off, for, by a lucky chance, the chase had +taken us in that direction. + +I turned from the dead fox, saluted with my sabre, and galloped away. + +But they would not leave me so easily, these gallant huntsmen. I was the +fox now, and the chase swept bravely over the plain. It was only at the +moment when I started for the camp that they could have known that I was +a Frenchman, and now the whole swarm of them were at my heels. We were +within gunshot of our pickets before they would halt, and then they +stood in knots and would not go away, but shouted and waved their hands +at me. No, I will not think that it was in enmity. Rather would I fancy +that a glow of admiration filled their breasts, and that their one +desire was to embrace the stranger who had carried himself so gallantly +and well. + + + + +IV. How the Brigadier Saved the Army + +I have told you, my friends, how we held the English shut up for six +months, from October, 1810, to March, 1811, within their lines of Torres +Vedras. It was during this time that I hunted the fox in their company, +and showed them that amidst all their sportsmen there was not one who +could outride a Hussar of Conflans. When I galloped back into the French +lines with the blood of the creature still moist upon my blade the +outposts who had seen what I had done raised a frenzied cry in my +honour, whilst these English hunters still yelled behind me, so that I +had the applause of both armies. It made the tears rise to my eyes to +feel that I had won the admiration of so many brave men. These English +are generous foes. That very evening there came a packet under a white +flag addressed “To the Hussar officer who cut down the fox.” Within, I +found the fox itself in two pieces, as I had left it. There was a note +also, short but hearty, as the English fashion is, to say that as I had +slaughtered the fox it only remained for me to eat it. They could not +know that it was not our French custom to eat foxes, and it showed their +desire that he who had won the honours of the chase should also partake +of the game. It is not for a Frenchman to be outdone in politeness, and +so I returned it to these brave hunters, and begged them to accept it as +a side-dish for their next dejeuner de la chasse. + +It is thus that chivalrous opponents make war. + +I had brought back with me from my ride a clear plan of the English +lines, and this I laid before Massena that very evening. + +I had hoped that it would lead him to attack, but all the marshals +were at each other's throats, snapping and growling like so many hungry +hounds. Ney hated Massena, and Massena hated Junot, and Soult hated them +all. For this reason, nothing was done. In the meantime food grew +more and more scarce, and our beautiful cavalry was ruined for want of +fodder. With the end of the winter we had swept the whole country bare, +and nothing remained for us to eat, although we sent our forage parties +far and wide. It was clear even to the bravest of us that the time had +come to retreat. I was myself forced to admit it. + +But retreat was not so easy. Not only were the troops weak and exhausted +from want of supplies, but the enemy had been much encouraged by our +long inaction. Of Wellington we had no great fear. We had found him +to be brave and cautious, but with little enterprise. Besides, in that +barren country his pursuit could not be rapid. + +But on our flanks and in our rear there had gathered great numbers of +Portuguese militia, of armed peasants, and of guerillas. These people +had kept a safe distance all the winter, but now that our horses were +foundered they were as thick as flies all round our outposts, and no +man's life was worth a sou when once he fell into their hands. I could +name a dozen officers of my own acquaintance who were cut off during +that time, and the luckiest was he who received a ball from behind a +rock through his head or his heart. There were some whose deaths were +so terrible that no report of them was ever allowed to reach their +relatives. So frequent were these tragedies, and so much did they +impress the imagination of the men, that it became very difficult to +induce them to leave the camp. + +There was one especial scoundrel, a guerilla chief named Manuelo, “The +Smiler,” whose exploits filled our men with horror. He was a large, +fat man of jovial aspect, and he lurked with a fierce gang among the +mountains which lay upon our left flank. A volume might be written of +this fellow's cruelties and brutalities, but he was certainly a man of +power, for he organised his brigands in a manner which made it almost +impossible for us to get through his country. This he did by imposing +a severe discipline upon them and enforcing it by cruel penalties, a +policy by which he made them formidable, but which had some unexpected +results, as I will show you in my story. Had he not flogged his own +lieutenant--but you will hear of that when the time comes. + +There were many difficulties in connection with a retreat, but it was +very evident that there was no other possible course, and so Massena +began to quickly pass his baggage and his sick from Torres Novas, which +was his headquarters, to Coimbra, the first strong post on his line of +communications. He could not do this unperceived, however, and at once +the guerillas came swarming closer and closer upon our flanks. One of +our divisions, that of Clausel, with a brigade of Montbrun's cavalry, +was far to the south of the Tagus, and it became very necessary to let +them know that we were about to retreat, for otherwise they would be +left unsupported in the very heart of the enemy's country. I remember +wondering how Massena would accomplish this, for simple couriers could +not get through, and small parties would be certainly destroyed. In some +way an order to fall back must be conveyed to these men, or France would +be the weaker by fourteen thousand men. Little did I think that it was +I, Colonel Gerard, who was to have the honour of a deed which might have +formed the crowning glory of any other man's life, and which stands high +among those exploits which have made my own so famous. + +At that time I was serving on Massena's staff, and he had two other +aides-de-camp, who were also very brave and intelligent officers. The +name of one was Cortex and of the other Duplessis. They were senior to +me in age, but junior in every other respect. Cortex was a small, dark +man, very quick and eager. He was a fine soldier, but he was ruined by +his conceit. To take him at his own valuation, he was the first man in +the army. + +Duplessis was a Gascon, like myself, and he was a very fine fellow, as +all Gascon gentlemen are. We took it in turn, day about, to do duty, and +it was Cortex who was in attendance upon the morning of which I speak. +I saw him at breakfast, but afterward neither he nor his horse was to be +seen. All day Massena was in his usual gloom, and he spent much of his +time staring with his telescope at the English lines and at the shipping +in the Tagus. + +He said nothing of the mission upon which he had sent our comrade, and +it was not for us to ask him any questions. + +That night, about twelve o'clock, I was standing outside the Marshal's +headquarters when he came out and stood motionless for half an hour, +his arms folded upon his breast, staring through the darkness toward the +east. + +So rigid and intent was he that you might have believed the muffled +figure and the cocked hat to have been the statue of the man. What he +was looking for I could not imagine; but at last he gave a bitter curse, +and, turning on his heel, he went back into the house, banging the door +behind him. + +Next day the second aide-de-camp, Duplessis, had an interview with +Massena in the morning, after which neither he nor his horse was seen +again. That night, as I sat in the ante-room, the Marshal passed me, +and I observed him through the window standing and staring to the east +exactly as he had done before. For fully half an hour he remained there, +a black shadow in the gloom. + +Then he strode in, the door banged, and I heard his spurs and his +scabbard jingling and clanking through the passage. At the best he was +a savage old man, but when he was crossed I had almost as soon face the +Emperor himself. I heard him that night cursing and stamping above +my head, but he did not send for me, and I knew him too well to go +unsought. + +Next morning it was my turn, for I was the only aide-de-camp left. I +was his favourite aide-de-camp. His heart went out always to a smart +soldier. I declare that I think there were tears in his black eyes when +he sent for me that morning. + +“Gerard,” said he. “Come here!” + +With a friendly gesture he took me by the sleeve and he led me to the +open window which faced the east. Beneath us was the infantry camp, +and beyond that the lines of the cavalry with the long rows of picketed +horses. + +We could see the French outposts, and then a stretch of open country, +intersected by vineyards. A range of hills lay beyond, with one +well-marked peak towering above them. Round the base of these hills was +a broad belt of forest. A single road ran white and clear, dipping and +rising until it passed through a gap in the hills. + +“This,” said Massena, pointing to the mountain, “is the Sierra de +Merodal. Do you perceive anything upon the top?” + +I answered that I did not. + +“Now?” he asked, and he handed me his field-glass. + +With its aid I perceived a small mound or cairn upon the crest. + +“What you see,” said the Marshal, “is a pile of logs which was placed +there as a beacon. We laid it when the country was in our hands, and +now, although we no longer hold it, the beacon remains undisturbed. +Gerard, that beacon must be lit to-night. France needs it, the Emperor +needs it, the army needs it. Two of your comrades have gone to light it, +but neither has made his way to the summit. To-day it is your turn, and +I pray that you may have better luck.” + +It is not for a soldier to ask the reason for his orders, and so I was +about to hurry from the room, but the Marshal laid his hand upon my +shoulder and held me. + +“You shall know all, and so learn how high is the cause for which you +risk your life,” said he. “Fifty miles to the south of us, on the other +side of the Tagus, is the army of General Clausel. His camp is situated +near a peak named the Sierra d'Ossa. On the summit of this peak is a +beacon, and by this beacon he has a picket. It is agreed between us that +when at midnight he shall see our signal-fire he shall light his own as +an answer, and shall then at once fall back upon the main army. If +he does not start at once I must go without him. For two days I have +endeavoured to send him his message. It must reach him to-day, or his +army will be left behind and destroyed.” + +Ah, my friends, how my heart swelled when I heard how high was the task +which Fortune had assigned to me! + +If my life were spared, here was one more splendid new leaf for my +laurel crown. If, on the other hand, I died, then it would be a death +worthy of such a career. I said nothing, but I cannot doubt that all +the noble thoughts that were in me shone in my face, for Massena took my +hand and wrung it. + +“There is the hill and there the beacon,” said he. + +“There is only this guerilla and his men between you and it. I cannot +detach a large party for the enterprise and a small one would be seen +and destroyed. Therefore to you alone I commit it. Carry it out in your +own way, but at twelve o'clock this night let me see the fire upon the +hill.” + +“If it is not there,” said I, “then I pray you, Marshal Massena, to see +that my effects are sold and the money sent to my mother.” So I raised +my hand to my busby and turned upon my heel, my heart glowing at the +thought of the great exploit which lay before me. + +I sat in my own chamber for some little time considering how I had best +take the matter in hand. The fact that neither Cortex nor Duplessis, +who were very zealous and active officers, had succeeded in reaching +the summit of the Sierra de Merodal, showed that the country was very +closely watched by the guerillas. I reckoned out the distance upon a +map. There were ten miles of open country to be crossed before reaching +the hills. Then came a belt of forest on the lower slopes of the +mountain, which may have been three or four miles wide. And then there +was the actual peak itself, of no very great height, but without any +cover to conceal me. Those were the three stages of my journey. + +It seemed to me that once I had reached the shelter of the wood all +would be easy, for I could lie concealed within its shadows and climb +upward under the cover of night. + +From eight till twelve would give me four hours of darkness in which +to make the ascent. It was only the first stage, then, which I had +seriously to consider. + +Over that flat country there lay the inviting white road, and I +remembered that my comrades had both taken their horses. That was +clearly their ruin, for nothing could be easier than for the brigands to +keep watch upon the road, and to lay an ambush for all who passed along +it. It would not be difficult for me to ride across country, and I was +well horsed at that time, for I had not only Violette and Rataplan, who +were two of the finest mounts in the army, but I had the splendid black +English hunter which I had taken from Sir Cotton. However, after much +thought, I determined to go upon foot, since I should then be in a +better state to take advantage of any chance which might offer. As to my +dress, I covered my Hussar uniform with a long cloak, and I put a +grey forage cap upon my head. You may ask me why I did not dress as +a peasant, but I answer that a man of honour has no desire to die the +death of a spy. It is one thing to be murdered, and it is another to be +justly executed by the laws of war. I would not run the risk of such an +end. + +In the late afternoon I stole out of the camp and passed through the +line of our pickets. Beneath my cloak I had a field-glass and a pocket +pistol, as well as my sword. In my pocket were tinder, flint, and steel. + +For two or three miles I kept under cover of the vineyards, and made +such good progress that my heart was high within me, and I thought to +myself that it only needed a man of some brains to take the matter in +hand to bring it easily to success. Of course, Cortex and Duplessis +galloping down the high-road would be easily seen, but the intelligent +Gerard lurking among the vines was quite another person. I dare say I +had got as far as five miles before I met any check. At that point there +is a small wine-house, round which I perceived some carts and a number +of people, the first that I had seen. Now that I was well outside the +lines I knew that every person was my enemy, so I crouched lower while I +stole along to a point from which I could get a better view of what was +going on. I then perceived that these people were peasants, who were +loading two waggons with empty wine-casks. I failed to see how they +could either help or hinder me, so I continued upon my way. + +But soon I understood that my task was not so simple as had appeared. As +the ground rose the vineyards ceased, and I came upon a stretch of open +country studded with low hills. Crouching in a ditch I examined them +with a glass, and I very soon perceived that there was a watcher upon +every one of them, and that these people had a line of pickets and +outposts thrown forward exactly like our own. I had heard of the +discipline which was practised by this scoundrel whom they called “The +Smiler,” and this, no doubt, was an example of it. + +Between the hills there was a cordon of sentries, and though I worked +some distance round to the flank I still found myself faced by the +enemy. It was a puzzle what to do. + +There was so little cover that a rat could hardly cross without being +seen. Of course, it would be easy enough to slip through at night, as I +had done with the English at Torres Vedras, but I was still far from +the mountain and I could not in that case reach it in time to light the +midnight beacon. I lay in my ditch and I made a thousand plans, each +more dangerous than the last. And then suddenly I had that flash of +light which comes to the brave man who refuses to despair. + +You remember I have mentioned that two waggons were loading up with +empty casks at the inn. The heads of the oxen were turned to the east, +and it was evident that those waggons were going in the direction which +I desired. Could I only conceal myself upon one of them, what better and +easier way could I find of passing through the lines of the guerillas? +So simple and so good was the plan that I could not restrain a cry +of delight as it crossed my mind, and I hurried away instantly in the +direction of the inn. There, from behind some bushes, I had a good look +at what was going on upon the road. + +There were three peasants with red montero caps loading the barrels, and +they had completed one waggon and the lower tier of the other. A number +of empty barrels still lay outside the wine-house waiting to be put on. + +Fortune was my friend--I have always said that she is a woman and cannot +resist a dashing young Hussar. As I watched, the three fellows went into +the inn, for the day was hot and they were thirsty after their labour. +Quick as a flash I darted out from my hiding-place, climbed on to the +waggon, and crept into one of the empty casks. + +It had a bottom but no top, and it lay upon its side with the open end +inward. There I crouched like a dog in its kennel, my knees drawn up to +my chin, for the barrels were not very large and I am a well-grown man. +As I lay there, out came the three peasants again, and presently I heard +a crash upon the top of me which told that I had another barrel above +me. They piled them upon the cart until I could not imagine how I was +ever to get out again. However, it is time to think of crossing the +Vistula when you are over the Rhine, and I had no doubt that if chance +and my own wits had carried me so far they would carry me farther. + +Soon, when the waggon was full, they set forth upon their way, and I +within my barrel chuckled at every step, for it was carrying me whither +I wished to go. We travelled slowly, and the peasants walked beside the +waggons. + +This I knew, because I heard their voices close to me. They seemed to me +to be very merry fellows, for they laughed heartily as they went. What +the joke was I could not understand. Though I speak their language +fairly well I could not hear anything comic in the scraps of their +conversation which met my ear. + +I reckoned that at the rate of walking of a team of oxen we covered +about two miles an hour. Therefore, when I was sure that two and a +half hours had passed--such hours, my friends, cramped, suffocated, and +nearly poisoned with the fumes of the lees--when they had passed, I was +sure that the dangerous open country was behind us, and that we were +upon the edge of the forest and the mountain. So now I had to turn my +mind upon how I was to get out of my barrel. I had thought of several +ways, and was balancing one against the other when the question was +decided for me in a very simple but unexpected manner. + +The waggon stopped suddenly with a jerk, and I heard a number of gruff +voices in excited talk. “Where, where?” cried one. “On our cart,” said +another. “Who is he?” said a third. “A French officer; I saw his cap +and his boots.” They all roared with laughter. “I was looking out of the +window of the posada and I saw him spring into the cask like a toreador +with a Seville bull at his heels.” “Which cask, then?” “It was this +one,” said the fellow, and sure enough his fist struck the wood beside +my head. + +What a situation, my friends, for a man of my standing! + +I blush now, after forty years, when I think of it. + +To be trussed like a fowl and to listen helplessly to the rude laughter +of these boors--to know, too, that my mission had come to an ignominious +and even ridiculous end--I would have blessed the man who would have +sent a bullet through the cask and freed me from my misery. + +I heard the crashing of the barrels as they hurled them off the waggon, +and then a couple of bearded faces and the muzzles of two guns looked in +at me. They seized me by the sleeves of my coat, and they dragged me +out into the daylight. A strange figure I must have looked as I stood +blinking and gaping in the blinding sunlight. + +My body was bent like a cripple's, for I could not straighten my stiff +joints, and half my coat was as red as an English soldier's from the +lees in which I had lain. + +They laughed and laughed, these dogs, and as I tried to express by my +bearing and gestures the contempt in which I held them their laughter +grew all the louder. But even in these hard circumstances I bore myself +like the man I am, and as I cast my eye slowly round I did not find that +any of the laughers were very ready to face it. + +That one glance round was enough to tell me exactly how I was situated. +I had been betrayed by these peasants into the hands of an outpost of +guerillas. There were eight of them, savage-looking, hairy creatures, +with cotton handkerchiefs under their sombreros, and many-buttoned +jackets with coloured sashes round the waist. + +Each had a gun and one or two pistols stuck in his girdle. + +The leader, a great, bearded ruffian, held his gun against my ear while +the others searched my pockets, taking from me my overcoat, my pistol, +my glass, my sword, and, worst of all, my flint and steel and tinder. +Come what might, I was ruined, for I had no longer the means of lighting +the beacon even if I should reach it. + +Eight of them, my friends, with three peasants, and I unarmed! Was +Etienne Gerard in despair? Did he lose his wits? Ah, you know me too +well; but they did not know me yet, these dogs of brigands. Never have +I made so supreme and astounding an effort as at this very instant when +all seemed lost. Yet you might guess many times before you would hit +upon the device by which I escaped them. Listen and I will tell you. + +They had dragged me from the waggon when they searched me, and I stood, +still twisted and warped, in the midst of them. But the stiffness was +wearing off, and already my mind was very actively looking out for some +method of breaking away. It was a narrow pass in which the brigands had +their outpost. It was bounded on the one hand by a steep mountain side. +On the other the ground fell away in a very long slope, which ended in a +bushy valley many hundreds of feet below. These fellows, you understand, +were hardy mountaineers, who could travel either up hill or down very +much quicker than I. They wore abarcas, or shoes of skin, tied on like +sandals, which gave them a foothold everywhere. A less resolute man +would have despaired. But in an instant I saw and used the strange +chance which Fortune had placed in my way. On the very edge of the slope +was one of the wine-barrels. I moved slowly toward it, and then with a +tiger spring I dived into it feet foremost, and with a roll of my body I +tipped it over the side of the hill. + +Shall I ever forget that dreadful journey--how I bounded and crashed +and whizzed down that terrible slope? I had dug in my knees and elbows, +bunching my body into a compact bundle so as to steady it; but my head +projected from the end, and it was a marvel that I did not dash out my +brains. There were long, smooth slopes, and then came steeper scarps +where the barrel ceased to roll, and sprang into the air like a goat, +coming down with a rattle and crash which jarred every bone in my body. +How the wind whistled in my ears, and my head turned and turned until I +was sick and giddy and nearly senseless! Then, with a swish and a great +rasping and crackling of branches, I reached the bushes which I had seen +so far below me. Through them I broke my way, down a slope beyond, and +deep into another patch of underwood, where, striking a sapling, my +barrel flew to pieces. From amid a heap of staves and hoops I crawled +out, my body aching in every inch of it, but my heart singing loudly +with joy and my spirit high within me, for I knew how great was the feat +which I had accomplished, and I already seemed to see the beacon blazing +on the hill. + +A horrible nausea had seized me from the tossing which I had undergone, +and I felt as I did upon the ocean when first I experienced those +movements of which the English have taken so perfidious an advantage. I +had to sit for a few moments with my head upon my hands beside the ruins +of my barrel. But there was no time for rest. + +Already I heard shouts above me which told that my pursuers were +descending the hill. I dashed into the thickest part of the underwood, +and I ran and ran until I was utterly exhausted. Then I lay panting and +listened with all my ears, but no sound came to them. I had shaken off +my enemies. + +When I had recovered my breath I travelled swiftly on, and waded +knee-deep through several brooks, for it came into my head that they +might follow me with dogs. + +On gaining a clear place and looking round me, I found to my delight +that in spite of my adventures I had not been much out of my way. Above +me towered the peak of Merodal, with its bare and bold summit shooting +out of the groves of dwarf oaks which shrouded its flanks. + +These groves were the continuation of the cover under which I found +myself, and it seemed to me that I had nothing to fear now until I +reached the other side of the forest. At the same time I knew that every +man's hand was against me, that I was unarmed, and that there were +many people about me. I saw no one, but several times I heard shrill +whistles, and once the sound of a gun in the distance. + +It was hard work pushing one's way through the bushes, and so I was glad +when I came to the larger trees and found a path which led between +them. Of course, I was too wise to walk upon it, but I kept near it and +followed its course. I had gone some distance, and had, as I imagined, +nearly reached the limit of the wood, when a strange, moaning sound fell +upon my ears. At first I thought it was the cry of some animal, but then +there came words, of which I only caught the French exclamation, “Mon +Dieu!” With great caution I advanced in the direction from which the +sound proceeded, and this is what I saw. + +On a couch of dried leaves there was stretched a man dressed in the same +grey uniform which I wore myself. + +He was evidently horribly wounded, for he held a cloth to his breast +which was crimson with his blood. A pool had formed all round his couch, +and he lay in a haze of flies, whose buzzing and droning would certainly +have called my attention if his groans had not come to my ear. + +I lay for a moment, fearing some trap, and then, my pity and loyalty +rising above all other feelings, I ran forward and knelt by his side. +He turned a haggard face upon me, and it was Duplessis, the man who +had gone before me. It needed but one glance at his sunken cheeks and +glazing eyes to tell me that he was dying. + +“Gerard!” said he; “Gerard!” + +I could but look my sympathy, but he, though the life was ebbing swiftly +out of him, still kept his duty before him, like the gallant gentleman +he was. + +“The beacon, Gerard! You will light it?” + +“Have you flint and steel?” + +“It is here!” + +“Then I will light it to-night.” + +“I die happy to hear you say so. They shot me, Gerard. But you will tell +the Marshal that I did my best.” + +“And Cortex?” + +“He was less fortunate. He fell into their hands and died horribly. If +you see that you cannot get away, Gerard, put a bullet into your own +heart. Don't die as Cortex did.” + +I could see that his breath was failing, and I bent low to catch his +words. + +“Can you tell me anything which can help me in my task?” I asked. + +“Yes, yes; de Pombal. He will help you. Trust de Pombal.” With the words +his head fell back and he was dead. + +“Trust de Pombal. It is good advice.” To my amazement a man was standing +at the very side of me. + +So absorbed had I been in my comrade's words and intent on his advice +that he had crept up without my observing him. Now I sprang to my feet +and faced him. He was a tall, dark fellow, black-haired, black-eyed, +black-bearded, with a long, sad face. In his hand he had a wine-bottle +and over his shoulder was slung one of the trabucos or blunderbusses +which these fellows bear. He made no effort to unsling it, and I +understood that this was the man to whom my dead friend had commended +me. + +“Alas, he is gone!” said he, bending over Duplessis. + +“He fled into the wood after he was shot, but I was fortunate enough +to find where he had fallen and to make his last hours more easy. This +couch was my making, and I had brought this wine to slake his thirst.” + +“Sir,” said I, “in the name of France I thank you. I am but a colonel +of light cavalry, but I am Etienne Gerard, and the name stands for +something in the French army. May I ask----” + +“Yes, sir, I am Aloysius de Pombal, younger brother of the famous +nobleman of that name. At present I am the first lieutenant in the band +of the guerilla chief who is usually known as Manuelo, 'The Smiler.'” + +My word, I clapped my hand to the place where my pistol should have +been, but the man only smiled at the gesture. + +“I am his first lieutenant, but I am also his deadly enemy,” said he. +He slipped off his jacket and pulled up his shirt as he spoke. “Look at +this!” he cried, and he turned upon me a back which was all scored and +lacerated with red and purple weals. “This is what 'The Smiler' has done +to me, a man with the noblest blood of Portugal in my veins. What I will +do to 'The Smiler' you have still to see.” + +There was such fury in his eyes and in the grin of his white teeth that +I could no longer doubt his truth, with that clotted and oozing back to +corroborate his words. + +“I have ten men sworn to stand by me,” said he. “In a few days I hope +to join your army, when I have done my work here. In the meanwhile--” A +strange change came over his face, and he suddenly slung his musket to +the front: “Hold up your hands, you French hound!” he yelled. “Up with +them, or I blow your head of!” + +You start, my friends! You stare! Think, then, how I stared and started +at this sudden ending of our talk. + +There was the black muzzle and there the dark, angry eyes behind it. +What could I do? I was helpless. I raised my hands in the air. At the +same moment voices sounded from all parts of the wood, there were crying +and calling and rushing of many feet. A swarm of dreadful figures +broke through the green bushes, a dozen hands seized me, and I, poor, +luckless, frenzied I, was a prisoner once more. Thank God, there was +no pistol which I could have plucked from my belt and snapped at my own +head. Had I been armed at that moment I should not be sitting here in +this cafe and telling you these old-world tales. + +With grimy, hairy hands clutching me on every side I was led along the +pathway through the wood, the villain de Pombal giving directions to my +captors. Four of the brigands carried up the dead body of Duplessis. + +The shadows of evening were already falling when we cleared the forest +and came out upon the mountain-side. + +Up this I was driven until we reached the headquarters of the guerillas, +which lay in a cleft close to the summit of the mountain. There was the +beacon which had cost me so much, a square stack of wood, immediately +above our heads. Below were two or three huts which had belonged, no +doubt, to goatherds, and which were now used to shelter these rascals. +Into one of these I was cast, bound and helpless, and the dead body of +my poor comrade was laid beside me. + +I was lying there with the one thought still consuming me, how to wait a +few hours and to get at that pile of fagots above my head, when the door +of my prison opened and a man entered. Had my hands been free I should +have flown at his throat, for it was none other than de Pombal. A couple +of brigands were at his heels, but he ordered them back and closed the +door behind him. + +“You villain!” said I. + +“Hush!” he cried. “Speak low, for I do not know who may be listening, +and my life is at stake. I have some words to say to you, Colonel +Gerard; I wish well to you, as I did to your dead companion. As I spoke +to you beside his body I saw that we were surrounded, and that your +capture was unavoidable. I should have shared your fate had I hesitated. +I instantly captured you myself, so as to preserve the confidence of the +band. Your own sense will tell you that there was nothing else for me to +do. I do not know now whether I can save you, but at least I will try.” + +This was a new light upon the situation. I told him that I could not +tell how far he spoke the truth, but that I would judge him by his +actions. + +“I ask nothing better,” said he. “A word of advice to you! The chief +will see you now. Speak him fair, or he will have you sawn between two +planks. Contradict nothing he says. Give him such information as he +wants. It is your only chance. If you can gain time something may come +in our favour. Now, I have no more time. Come at once, or suspicion may +be awakened.” + +He helped me to rise, and then, opening the door, he dragged me out very +roughly, and with the aid of the fellows outside he brutally pushed and +thrust me to the place where the guerilla chief was seated, with his +rude followers gathered round him. + +A remarkable man was Manuelo, “The Smiler.” He was fat and florid and +comfortable, with a big, clean-shaven face and a bald head, the very +model of a kindly father of a family. As I looked at his honest smile I +could scarcely believe that this was, indeed, the infamous ruffian whose +name was a horror through the English Army as well as our own. It is +well known that Trent, who was a British officer, afterward had the +fellow hanged for his brutalities. He sat upon a boulder and he beamed +upon me like one who meets an old acquaintance. + +I observed, however, that one of his men leaned upon a long saw, and the +sight was enough to cure me of all delusions. + +“Good evening, Colonel Gerard,” said he. “We have been highly honoured +by General Massena's staff: Major Cortex one day, Colonel Duplessis +the next, and now Colonel Gerard. Possibly the Marshal himself may +be induced to honour us with a visit. You have seen Duplessis, I +understand. Cortex you will find nailed to a tree down yonder. It only +remains to be decided how we can best dispose of yourself.” + +It was not a cheering speech; but all the time his fat face was wreathed +in smiles, and he lisped out his words in the most mincing and amiable +fashion. Now, however, he suddenly leaned forward, and I read a very +real intensity in his eyes. + +“Colonel Gerard,” said he, “I cannot promise you your life, for it is +not our custom, but I can give you an easy death or I can give you a +terrible one. Which shall it be?” + +“What do you wish me to do in exchange?” + +“If you would die easy I ask you to give me truthful answers to the +questions which I ask.” + +A sudden thought flashed through my mind. + +“You wish to kill me,” said I; “it cannot matter to you how I die. If +I answer your questions, will you let me choose the manner of my own +death?” + +“Yes, I will,” said he, “so long as it is before midnight to-night.” + +“Swear it!” I cried. + +“The word of a Portuguese gentleman is sufficient,” said he. + +“Not a word will I say until you have sworn it.” + +He flushed with anger and his eyes swept round toward the saw. But he +understood from my tone that I meant what I said, and that I was not +a man to be bullied into submission. He pulled a cross from under his +zammara or jacket of black sheepskin. + +“I swear it,” said he. + +Oh, my joy as I heard the words! What an end--what an end for the first +swordsman of France! I could have laughed with delight at the thought. + +“Now, your questions!” said I. + +“You swear in turn to answer them truly?” + +“I do, upon the honour of a gentleman and a soldier.” + +It was, as you perceive, a terrible thing that I promised, but what was +it compared to what I might gain by compliance? + +“This is a very fair and a very interesting bargain,” said he, taking a +note-book from his pocket. + +“Would you kindly turn your gaze toward the French camp?” + +Following the direction of his gesture, I turned and looked down upon +the camp in the plain beneath us. In spite of the fifteen miles, +one could in that clear atmosphere see every detail with the utmost +distinctness. + +There were the long squares of our tents and our huts, with the cavalry +lines and the dark patches which marked the ten batteries of artillery. +How sad to think of my magnificent regiment waiting down yonder, and to +know that they would never see their colonel again! With one squadron of +them I could have swept all these cut-throats off the face of the earth. +My eager eyes filled with tears as I looked at the corner of the camp +where I knew that there were eight hundred men, any one of whom would +have died for his colonel. But my sadness vanished when I saw beyond the +tents the plumes of smoke which marked the headquarters at Torres Novas. +There was Massena, and, please God, at the cost of my life his mission +would that night be done. A spasm of pride and exultation filled my +breast. I should have liked to have had a voice of thunder that I might +call to them, “Behold it is I, Etienne Gerard, who will die in order to +save the army of Clausel!” It was, indeed, sad to think that so noble a +deed should be done, and that no one should be there to tell the tale. + +“Now,” said the brigand chief, “you see the camp and you see also the +road which leads to Coimbra. It is crowded with your fourgons and your +ambulances. Does this mean that Massena is about to retreat?” + +One could see the dark moving lines of waggons with an occasional flash +of steel from the escort. There could, apart from my promise, be no +indiscretion in admitting that which was already obvious. + +“He will retreat,” said I. + +“By Coimbra?” + +“I believe so.” + +“But the army of Clausel?” + +I shrugged my shoulders. + +“Every path to the south is blocked. No message can reach them. If +Massena falls back the army of Clausel is doomed.” + +“It must take its chance,” said I. + +“How many men has he?” + +“I should say about fourteen thousand.” + +“How much cavalry?” + +“One brigade of Montbrun's Division.” + +“What regiments?” + +“The 4th Chasseurs, the 9th Hussars, and a regiment of Cuirassiers.” + +“Quite right,” said he, looking at his note-book. “I can tell you +speak the truth, and Heaven help you if you don't.” Then, division by +division, he went over the whole army, asking the composition of each +brigade. + +Need I tell you that I would have had my tongue torn out before I would +have told him such things had I not a greater end in view? I would let +him know all if I could but save the army of Clausel. + +At last he closed his note-book and replaced it in his pocket. “I am +obliged to you for this information, which shall reach Lord Wellington +to-morrow,” said he. + +“You have done your share of the bargain; it is for me now to perform +mine. How would you wish to die? As a soldier you would, no doubt, +prefer to be shot, but some think that a jump over the Merodal precipice +is really an easier death. A good few have taken it, but we were, +unfortunately, never able to get an opinion from them afterward. There +is the saw, too, which does not appear to be popular. We could hang you, +no doubt, but it would involve the inconvenience of going down to the +wood. However, a promise is a promise, and you seem to be an excellent +fellow, so we will spare no pains to meet your wishes.” + +“You said,” I answered, “that I must die before midnight. I will choose, +therefore, just one minute before that hour.” + +“Very good,” said he. “Such clinging to life is rather childish, but +your wishes shall be met.” + +“As to the method,” I added, “I love a death which all the world can +see. Put me on yonder pile of fagots and burn me alive, as saints and +martyrs have been burned before me. That is no common end, but one which +an Emperor might envy.” + +The idea seemed to amuse him very much. “Why not?” said he. “If Massena +has sent you to spy upon us, he may guess what the fire upon the +mountain means.” + +“Exactly,” said I. “You have hit upon my very reason. He will guess, and +all will know, that I have died a soldier's death.” + +“I see no objection whatever,” said the brigand, with his abominable +smile. “I will send some goat's flesh and wine into your hut. The sun is +sinking and it is nearly eight o'clock. In four hours be ready for your +end.” + +It was a beautiful world to be leaving. I looked at the golden haze +below, where the last rays of the sinking sun shone upon the blue waters +of the winding Tagus and gleamed upon the white sails of the English +transports. + +Very beautiful it was, and very sad to leave; but there are things more +beautiful than that. The death that is died for the sake of others, +honour, and duty, and loyalty, and love--these are the beauties far +brighter than any which the eye can see. My breast was filled with +admiration for my own most noble conduct, and with wonder whether any +soul would ever come to know how I had placed myself in the heart of the +beacon which saved the army of Clausel. I hoped so and I prayed so, +for what a consolation it would be to my mother, what an example to the +army, what a pride to my Hussars! When de Pombal came at last into my +hut with the food and the wine, the first request I made him was that he +would write an account of my death and send it to the French camp. + +He answered not a word, but I ate my supper with a better appetite from +the thought that my glorious fate would not be altogether unknown. + +I had been there about two hours when the door opened again, and the +chief stood looking in. I was in darkness, but a brigand with a torch +stood beside him, and I saw his eyes and his teeth gleaming as he peered +at me. + +“Ready?” he asked. + +“It is not yet time.” + +“You stand out for the last minute?” + +“A promise is a promise.” + +“Very good. Be it so. We have a little justice to do among ourselves, +for one of my fellows has been misbehaving. We have a strict rule of our +own which is no respecter of persons, as de Pombal here could tell you. +Do you truss him and lay him on the faggots, de Pombal, and I will +return to see him die.” + +De Pombal and the man with the torch entered, while I heard the steps of +the chief passing away. De Pombal closed the door. + +“Colonel Gerard,” said he, “you must trust this man, for he is one of +my party. It is neck or nothing. We may save you yet. But I take a great +risk, and I want a definite promise. If we save you, will you guarantee +that we have a friendly reception in the French camp and that all the +past will be forgotten?” + +“I do guarantee it.” + +“And I trust your honour. Now, quick, quick, there is not an instant to +lose! If this monster returns we shall die horribly, all three.” + +I stared in amazement at what he did. Catching up a long rope he wound +it round the body of my dead comrade, and he tied a cloth round his +mouth so as to almost cover his face. + +“Do you lie there!” he cried, and he laid me in the place of the dead +body. “I have four of my men waiting, and they will place this upon the +beacon.” He opened the door and gave an order. Several of the brigands +entered and bore out Duplessis. For myself I remained upon the floor, +with my mind in a turmoil of hope and wonder. + +Five minutes later de Pombal and his men were back. + +“You are laid upon the beacon,” said he; “I defy anyone in the world +to say it is not you, and you are so gagged and bound that no one can +expect you to speak or move. Now, it only remains to carry forth the +body of Duplessis and to toss it over the Merodal precipice.” + +Two of them seized me by the head and two by the heels, and carried me, +stiff and inert, from the hut. As I came into the open air I could have +cried out in my amazement. The moon had risen above the beacon, and +there, clear outlined against its silver light, was the figure of the +man stretched upon the top. The brigands were either in their camp or +standing round the beacon, for none of them stopped or questioned our +little party. De Pombal led them in the direction of the precipice. At +the brow we were out of sight, and there I was allowed to use my feet +once more. De Pombal pointed to a narrow, winding track. + +“This is the way down,” said he, and then, suddenly, + +“Dios mio, what is that?” + +A terrible cry had risen out of the woods beneath us. + +I saw that de Pombal was shivering like a frightened horse. + +“It is that devil,” he whispered. “He is treating another as he treated +me. But on, on, for Heaven help us if he lays his hands upon us.” + +One by one we crawled down the narrow goat track. + +At the bottom of the cliff we were back in the woods once more. Suddenly +a yellow glare shone above us, and the black shadows of the tree-trunks +started out in front. + +They had fired the beacon behind us. Even from where we stood we could +see that impassive body amid the flames, and the black figures of the +guerillas as they danced, howling like cannibals, round the pile. Ha! +how I shook my fist at them, the dogs, and how I vowed that one day my +Hussars and I would make the reckoning level! + +De Pombal knew how the outposts were placed and all the paths which led +through the forest. But to avoid these villains we had to plunge among +the hills and walk for many a weary mile. And yet how gladly would I +have walked those extra leagues if only for one sight which they brought +to my eyes! It may have been two o'clock in the morning when we halted +upon the bare shoulder of a hill over which our path curled. Looking +back we saw the red glow of the embers of the beacon as if volcanic +fires were bursting from the tall peak of Merodal. And then, as I gazed, +I saw something else--something which caused me to shriek with joy and +to fall upon the ground, rolling in my delight. For, far away upon the +southern horizon, there winked and twinkled one great yellow light, +throbbing and flaming, the light of no house, the light of no star, +but the answering beacon of Mount d'Ossa, which told that the army of +Clausel knew what Etienne Gerard had been sent to tell them. + + + + +V. How the Brigadier Triumphed in England + +I have told you, my friends, how I triumphed over the English at the +fox-hunt when I pursued the animal so fiercely that even the herd of +trained dogs was unable to keep up, and alone with my own hand I put him +to the sword. Perhaps I have said too much of the matter, but there is +a thrill in the triumphs of sport which even warfare cannot give, for in +warfare you share your successes with your regiment and your army, but +in sport it is you yourself unaided who have won the laurels. It is an +advantage which the English have over us that in all classes they take +great interest in every form of sport. It may be that they are richer +than we, or it may be that they are more idle: but I was surprised when +I was a prisoner in that country to observe how widespread was this +feeling, and how much it filled the minds and the lives of the people. A +horse that will run, a cock that will fight, a dog that will kill rats, +a man that will box--they would turn away from the Emperor in all his +glory in order to look upon any of these. + +I could tell you many stories of English sport, for I saw much of it +during the time that I was the guest of Lord Rufton, after the order +for my exchange had come to England. There were months before I could be +sent back to France, and during this time I stayed with this good Lord +Rufton at his beautiful house of High Combe, which is at the northern +end of Dartmoor. He had ridden with the police when they had pursued +me from Princetown, and he had felt toward me when I was overtaken as +I would myself have felt had I, in my own country, seen a brave and +debonair soldier without a friend to help him. In a word, he took me to +his house, clad me, fed me, and treated me as if he had been my brother. +I will say this of the English, that they were always generous enemies, +and very good people with whom to fight. + +In the Peninsula the Spanish outposts would present their muskets at +ours, but the British their brandy-flasks. And of all these generous men +there was none who was the equal of this admirable milord, who held out +so warm a hand to an enemy in distress. + +Ah! what thoughts of sport it brings back to me, the very name of High +Combe! I can see it now, the long, low brick house, warm and ruddy, with +white plaster pillars before the door. He was a great sportsman, this +Lord Rufton, and all who were about him were of the same sort. But you +will be pleased to hear that there were few things in which I could +not hold my own, and in some I excelled. Behind the house was a wood in +which pheasants were reared, and it was Lord Rufton's joy to kill these +birds, which was done by sending in men to drive them out while he and +his friends stood outside and shot them as they passed. For my part, I +was more crafty, for I studied the habits of the bird, and stealing out +in the evening I was able to kill a number of them as they roosted in +the trees. Hardly a single shot was wasted, but the keeper was attracted +by the sound of the firing, and he implored me in his rough English +fashion to spare those that were left. That night I was able to place +twelve birds as a surprise upon Lord Rufton's supper-table, and he +laughed until he cried, so overjoyed was he to see them. “Gad, Gerard, +you'll be the death of me yet!” he cried. Often he said the same thing, +for at every turn I amazed him by the way in which I entered into the +sports of the English. + +There is a game called cricket which they play in the summer, and this +also I learned. Rudd, the head gardener, was a famous player of cricket, +and so was Lord Rufton himself. Before the house was a lawn, and here +it was that Rudd taught me the game. It is a brave pastime, a game for +soldiers, for each tries to strike the other with the ball, and it is +but a small stick with which you may ward it off. Three sticks behind +show the spot beyond which you may not retreat. I can tell you that it +is no game for children, and I will confess that, in spite of my nine +campaigns, I felt myself turn pale when first the ball flashed past me. +So swift was it that I had not time to raise my stick to ward it off, +but by good fortune it missed me and knocked down the wooden pins which +marked the boundary. It was for Rudd then to defend himself and for me +to attack. When I was a boy in Gascony I learned to throw both far and +straight, so that I made sure that I could hit this gallant Englishman. + +With a shout I rushed forward and hurled the ball at him. It flew as +swift as a bullet toward his ribs, but without a word he swung his staff +and the ball rose a surprising distance in the air. Lord Rufton clapped +his hands and cheered. Again the ball was brought to me, and again it +was for me to throw. This time it flew past his head, and it seemed to +me that it was his turn to look pale. + +But he was a brave man, this gardener, and again he faced me. Ah, my +friends, the hour of my triumph had come! It was a red waistcoat that +he wore, and at this I hurled the ball. You would have said that I was +a gunner, not a hussar, for never was so straight an aim. With a +despairing cry--the cry of the brave man who is beaten--he fell upon the +wooden pegs behind him, and they all rolled upon the ground together. He +was cruel, this English milord, and he laughed so that he could not come +to the aid of his servant. It was for me, the victor, to rush forward to +embrace this intrepid player, and to raise him to his feet with words of +praise, and encouragement, and hope. He was in pain and could not stand +erect, yet the honest fellow confessed that there was no accident in my +victory. “He did it a-purpose! He did it a-purpose!” + +Again and again he said it. Yes, it is a great game this cricket, and I +would gladly have ventured upon it again but Lord Rufton and Rudd said +that it was late in the season, and so they would play no more. + +How foolish of me, the old, broken man, to dwell upon these successes, +and yet I will confess that my age has been very much soothed and +comforted by the memory of the women who have loved me and the men whom +I have overcome. It is pleasant to think that five years afterward, when +Lord Rufton came to Paris after the peace, he was able to assure me that +my name was still a famous one in the north of Devonshire for the fine +exploits that I had performed. Especially, he said, they still talked +over my boxing match with the Honourable Baldock. It came about in this +way. Of an evening many sportsmen would assemble at the house of Lord +Rufton, where they would drink much wine, make wild bets, and talk +of their horses and their foxes. How well I remember those strange +creatures. Sir Barrington, Jack Lupton, of Barnstable, Colonel Addison, +Johnny Miller, Lord Sadler, and my enemy, the Honourable Baldock. +They were of the same stamp all of them, drinkers, madcaps, fighters, +gamblers, full of strange caprices and extraordinary whims. Yet they +were kindly fellows in their rough fashion, save only this Baldock, a +fat man, who prided himself on his skill at the box-fight. It was he +who, by his laughter against the French because they were ignorant +of sport, caused me to challenge him in the very sport at which he +excelled. You will say that it was foolish, my friends, but the decanter +had passed many times, and the blood of youth ran hot in my veins. I +would fight him, this boaster; I would show him that if we had not skill +at least we had courage. Lord Rufton would not allow it. I insisted. The +others cheered me on and slapped me on the back. “No, dash it, Baldock, +he's our guest,” said Rufton. “It's his own doing,” the other answered. +“Look here, Rufton, they can't hurt each other if they wear the +mawleys,” cried Lord Sadler. And so it was agreed. + +What the mawleys were I did not know, but presently they brought out +four great puddings of leather, not unlike a fencing glove, but larger. +With these our hands were covered after we had stripped ourselves of +our coats and our waistcoats. Then the table, with the glasses and +decanters, was pushed into the corner of the room, and behold us; face +to face! Lord Sadler sat in the arm-chair with a watch in his open hand. +“Time!” said he. + +I will confess to you, my friends, that I felt at that moment a tremor +such as none of my many duels have ever given me. With sword or pistol +I am at home, but here I only understood that I must struggle with this +fat Englishman and do what I could, in spite of these great puddings +upon my hands, to overcome him. And at the very outset I was disarmed +of the best weapon that was left to me. “Mind, Gerard, no kicking!” said +Lord Rufton in my ear. I had only a pair of thin dancing slippers, and +yet the man was fat, and a few well-directed kicks might have left me +the victor. But there is an etiquette just as there is in fencing, and +I refrained. I looked at this Englishman and I wondered how I should +attack him. His ears were large and prominent. Could I seize them I +might drag him to the ground. I rushed in, but I was betrayed by this +flabby glove, and twice I lost my hold. He struck me, but I cared little +for his blows, and again I seized him by the ear. He fell, and I rolled +upon him and thumped his head upon the ground. + +How they cheered and laughed, these gallant Englishmen, and how they +clapped me on the back! + +“Even money on the Frenchman,” cried Lord Sadler. + +“He fights foul,” cried my enemy, rubbing his crimson ears. “He savaged +me on the ground.” + +“You must take your chance of that,” said Lord Rufton, coldly. + +“Time!” cried Lord Sadler, and once again we advanced to the assault. + +He was flushed, and his small eyes were as vicious as those of a +bull-dog. There was hatred on his face. For my part I carried myself +lightly and gaily. A French gentleman fights but he does not hate. I +drew myself up before him, and I bowed as I have done in the duello. + +There can be grace and courtesy as well as defiance in a bow; I put +all three into this one, with a touch of ridicule in the shrug which +accompanied it. It was at this moment that he struck me. The room spun +round me. I fell upon my back. But in an instant I was on my feet again +and had rushed to a close combat. His ear, his hair, his nose, I seized +them each in turn. Once again the mad joy of the battle was in my veins. +The old cry of triumph rose to my lips. “Vive l'Empereur!” I yelled as +I drove my head into his stomach. He threw his arm round my neck, and +holding me with one hand he struck me with the other. I buried my +teeth in his arm, and he shouted with pain. “Call him off, Rufton!” he +screamed. + +“Call him off, man! He's worrying me!” They dragged me away from him. +Can I ever forget it?--the laughter, the cheering, the congratulations! +Even my enemy bore me no ill-will, for he shook me by the hand. For my +part I embraced him on each cheek. Five years afterward I learned from +Lord Rufton that my noble bearing upon that evening was still fresh in +the memory of my English friends. + +It is not, however, of my own exploits in sport that I wish to speak to +you to-night, but it is of the Lady Jane Dacre and the strange adventure +of which she was the cause. Lady Jane Dacre was Lord Rufton's sister and +the lady of his household. I fear that until I came it was lonely for +her, since she was a beautiful and refined woman with nothing in common +with those who were about her. Indeed, this might be said of many +women in the England of those days, for the men were rude and rough and +coarse, with boorish habits and few accomplishments, while the women +were the most lovely and tender that I have ever known. We became great +friends, the Lady Jane and I, for it was not possible for me to drink +three bottles of port after dinner like those Devonshire gentlemen, and +so I would seek refuge in her drawing-room, where evening after evening +she would play the harpsichord and I would sing the songs of my own +land. In those peaceful moments I would find a refuge from the misery +which filled me, when I reflected that my regiment was left in the front +of the enemy without the chief whom they had learned to love and to +follow. + +Indeed, I could have torn my hair when I read in the English papers of +the fine fighting which was going on in Portugal and on the frontiers of +Spain, all of which I had missed through my misfortune in falling into +the hands of Milord Wellington. + +From what I have told you of the Lady Jane you will have guessed what +occurred, my friends. Etienne Gerard is thrown into the company of a +young and beautiful woman. What must it mean for him? What must it mean +for her? It was not for me, the guest, the captive, to make love to the +sister of my host. But I was reserved. + +I was discreet. I tried to curb my own emotions and to discourage hers. +For my own part I fear that I betrayed myself, for the eye becomes more +eloquent when the tongue is silent. Every quiver of my fingers as +I turned over her music-sheets told her my secret. But she--she +was admirable. It is in these matters that women have a genius for +deception. If I had not penetrated her secret I should often have +thought that she forgot even that I was in the house. For hours she +would sit lost in a sweet melancholy, while I admired her pale face and +her curls in the lamp-light, and thrilled within me to think that I had +moved her so deeply. Then at last I would speak, and she would start +in her chair and stare at me with the most admirable pretence of being +surprised to find me in the room. Ah! how I longed to hurl myself +suddenly at her feet, to kiss her white hand, to assure her that I had +surprised her secret and that I would not abuse her confidence. + +But no, I was not her equal, and I was under her roof as a castaway +enemy. My lips were sealed. I endeavoured to imitate her own wonderful +affectation of indifference, but, as you may think? I was eagerly alert +for any opportunity of serving her. + +One morning Lady Jane had driven in her phaeton to Okehampton, and I +strolled along the road which led to that place in the hope that I might +meet her on her return. + +It was the early winter, and banks of fading fern sloped down to the +winding road. It is a bleak place this Dartmoor, wild and rocky--a +country of wind and mist. + +I felt as I walked that it is no wonder Englishmen should suffer from +the spleen. My own heart was heavy within me, and I sat upon a rock +by the wayside looking out on the dreary view with my thoughts full of +trouble and foreboding. Suddenly, however, as I glanced down the road, +I saw a sight which drove everything else from my mind, and caused me to +leap to my feet with a cry of astonishment and anger. + +Down the curve of the road a phaeton was coming, the pony tearing along +at full gallop. Within was the very lady whom I had come to meet. She +lashed at the pony like one who endeavours to escape from some pressing +danger, glancing ever backward over her shoulder. The bend of the road +concealed from me what it was that had alarmed her, and I ran forward +not knowing what to expect. + +The next instant I saw the pursuer, and my amazement was increased at +the sight. It was a gentleman in the red coat of an English fox-hunter, +mounted on a great grey horse. He was galloping as if in a race, and the +long stride of the splendid creature beneath him soon brought him up to +the lady's flying carriage. I saw him stoop and seize the reins of the +pony, so as to bring it to a halt. The next instant he was deep in talk +with the lady, he bending forward in his saddle and speaking eagerly, +she shrinking away from him as if she feared and loathed him. + +You may think, my dear friends, that this was not a sight at which +I could calmly gaze. How my heart thrilled within me to think that a +chance should have been given to me to serve the Lady Jane! I ran--oh, +good Lord, how I ran! At last, breathless, speechless, I reached the +phaeton. The man glanced up at me with his blue English eyes, but so +deep was he in his talk that he paid no heed to me, nor did the lady say +a word. She still leaned back, her beautiful pale face gazing up at him. +He was a good-looking fellow--tall, and strong, and brown; a pang of +jealousy seized me as I looked at him. He was talking low and fast, as +the English do when they are in earnest. + +“I tell you, Jinny, it's you and only you that I love,” said he. “Don't +bear malice, Jinny. Let by-gones be by-gones. Come now, say it's all +over.” + +“No, never, George, never!” she cried. + +A dusky red suffused his handsome face. The man was furious. + +“Why can't you forgive me, Jinny?” + +“I can't forget the past.” + +“By George, you must! I've asked enough. It's time to order now. I'll +have my rights, d'ye hear?” His hand closed upon her wrist. + +At last my breath had returned to me. + +“Madame,” I said, as I raised my hat, “do I intrude, or is there any +possible way in which I can be of service to you?” + +But neither of them minded me any more than if I had been a fly who +buzzed between them. Their eyes were locked together. + +“I'll have my rights, I tell you. I've waited long enough.” + +“There's no use bullying, George.” + +“Do you give in?” + +“No, never!” + +“Is that your final answer?” + +“Yes, it is.” + +He gave a bitter curse and threw down her hand. + +“All right, my lady, we'll see about this.” + +“Excuse me, sir!” said I, with dignity. + +“Oh, go to blazes!” he cried, turning on me with his furious face. The +next instant he had spurred his horse and was galloping down the road +once more. + +Lady Jane gazed after him until he was out of sight, and I was surprised +to see that her face wore a smile and not a frown. Then she turned to me +and held out her hand. + +“You are very kind, Colonel Gerard. You meant well, I am sure.” + +“Madame,” said I, “if you can oblige me with the gentleman's name and +address I will arrange that he shall never trouble you again.” + +“No scandal, I beg of you,” she cried. + +“Madame, I could not so far forget myself. Rest assured that no lady's +name would ever be mentioned by me in the course of such an incident. +In bidding me to go to blazes this gentleman has relieved me from the +embarrassment of having to invent a cause of quarrel.” + +“Colonel Gerard,” said the lady, earnestly, “you must give me your word +as a soldier and a gentleman that this matter goes no farther, and +also that you will say nothing to my brother about what you have seen. +Promise me!” + +“If I must.” + +“I hold you to your word. Now drive with me to High Combe, and I will +explain as we go.” + +The first words of her explanation went into me like a sabre-point. + +“That gentleman,” said she, “is my husband.” + +“Your husband!” + +“You must have known that I was married.” She seemed surprised at my +agitation. + +“I did not know.” + +“This is Lord George Dacre. We have been married two years. There is no +need to tell you how he wronged me. I left him and sought a refuge under +my brother's roof. Up till to-day he has left me there unmolested. What +I must above all things avoid is the chance of a duel betwixt my husband +and my brother. It is horrible to think of. For this reason Lord Rufton +must know nothing of this chance meeting of to-day.” + +“If my pistol could free you from this annoyance----” + +“No, no, it is not to be thought of. Remember your promise, Colonel +Gerard. And not a word at High Combe of what you have seen!” + +Her husband! I had pictured in my mind that she was a young widow. This +brown-faced brute with his “go to blazes” was the husband of this tender +dove of a woman. Oh, if she would but allow me to free her from so +odious an encumbrance! There is no divorce so quick and certain as that +which I could give her. But a promise is a promise, and I kept it to the +letter. My mouth was sealed. + +In a week I was to be sent back from Plymouth to St. Malo, and it seemed +to me that I might never hear the sequel of the story. And yet it was +destined that it should have a sequel and that I should play a very +pleasing and honourable part in it. + + +It was only three days after the event which I have described when Lord +Rufton burst hurriedly into my room. + +His face was pale and his manner that of a man in extreme agitation. + +“Gerard,” he cried, “have you seen Lady Jane Dacre?” + +I had seen her after breakfast and it was now mid-day. + +“By Heaven, there's villainy here!” cried my poor friend, rushing about +like a madman. “The bailiff has been up to say that a chaise and pair +were seen driving full split down the Tavistock Road. The blacksmith +heard a woman scream as it passed his forge. Jane has disappeared. By +the Lord, I believe that she has been kidnapped by this villain Dacre.” + He rang the bell furiously. “Two horses, this instant!” he cried. +“Colonel Gerard, your pistols! Jane comes back with me this night from +Gravel Hanger or there will be a new master in High Combe Hall.” + +Behold us then within half an hour, like two knight-errants of old, +riding forth to the rescue of this lady in distress. It was near +Tavistock that Lord Dacre lived, and at every house and toll-gate along +the road we heard the news of the flying post-chaise in front of us, so +there could be no doubt whither they were bound. As we rode Lord Rufton +told me of the man whom we were pursuing. + +His name, it seems, was a household word throughout all England for +every sort of mischief. Wine, women, dice, cards, racing--in all forms +of debauchery he had earned for himself a terrible name. He was of an +old and noble family, and it had been hoped that he had sowed his wild +oats when he married the beautiful Lady Jane Rufton. + +For some months he had indeed behaved well, and then he had wounded her +feelings in their most tender part by some unworthy liaison. She had +fled from his house and taken refuge with her brother, from whose care +she had now been dragged once more, against her will. I ask you if two +men could have had a fairer errand than that upon which Lord Rufton and +myself were riding. + +“That's Gravel Hanger,” he cried at last, pointing with his crop, and +there on the green side of a hill was an old brick and timber building +as beautiful as only an English country-house can be. “There's an inn by +the park-gate, and there we shall leave our horses,” he added. + +For my own part it seemed to me that with so just a cause we should have +done best to ride boldly up to his door and summon him to surrender the +lady. But there I was wrong. For the one thing which every Englishman +fears is the law. He makes it himself, and when he has once made it it +becomes a terrible tyrant before whom the bravest quails. He will smile +at breaking his neck, but he will turn pale at breaking the law. It +seems, then, from what Lord Rufton told me as we walked through the +park, that we were on the wrong side of the law in this matter. Lord +Dacre was in the right in carrying off his wife, since she did indeed +belong to him, and our own position now was nothing better than that of +burglars and trespassers. It was not for burglars to openly approach the +front door. We could take the lady by force or by craft, but we could +not take her by right, for the law was against us. This was what my +friend explained to me as we crept up toward the shelter of a shrubbery +which was close to the windows of the house. Thence we could examine +this fortress, see whether we could effect a lodgment in it, and, above +all, try to establish some communication with the beautiful prisoner +inside. + +There we were, then, in the shrubbery, Lord Rufton and I, each with a +pistol in the pockets of our riding coats, and with the most resolute +determination in our hearts that we should not return without the lady. + +Eagerly we scanned every window of the wide-spread house. + +Not a sign could we see of the prisoner or of anyone else; but on the +gravel drive outside the door were the deep-sunk marks of the wheels of +the chaise. There was no doubt that they had arrived. Crouching among +the laurel bushes we held a whispered council of wary but a singular +interruption brought it to an end. + +Out of the door of the house there stepped a tall, flaxen-haired man, +such a figure as one would choose for the flank of a Grenadier company. +As he turned his brown face and his blue eyes toward us I recognised +Lord Dacre. + +With long strides he came down the gravel path straight for the spot +where we lay. + +“Come out, Ned!” he shouted; “you'll have the game-keeper putting a +charge of shot into you. Come out, man, and don't skulk behind the +bushes.” + +It was not a very heroic situation for us. My poor friend rose with a +crimson face. I sprang to my feet also and bowed with such dignity as I +could muster. + +“Halloa! it's the Frenchman, is it?” said he, without returning my bow. +“I've got a crow to pluck with him already. As to you, Ned, I knew you +would be hot on our scent, and so I was looking out for you. I saw you +cross the park and go to ground in the shrubbery. Come in, man, and let +us have all the cards on the table.” + +He seemed master of the situation, this handsome giant of a man, +standing at his ease on his own ground while we slunk out of our +hiding-place. Lord Rufton had said not a word, but I saw by his darkened +brow and his sombre eyes that the storm was gathering. Lord Dacre led +the way into the house, and we followed close at his heels. + +He ushered us himself into an oak-panelled sitting-room, closing the +door behind us. Then he looked me up and down with insolent eyes. + +“Look here, Ned,” said he, “time was when an English family could settle +their own affairs in their own way. What has this foreign fellow got to +do with your sister and my wife?” + +“Sir,” said I, “permit me to point out to you that this is not a case +merely of a sister or a wife, but that I am the friend of the lady in +question, and that I have the privilege which every gentleman possesses +of protecting a woman against brutality. It is only by a gesture that I +can show you what I think of you.” I had my riding glove in my hand, and +I flicked him across the face with it. He drew back with a bitter smile +and his eyes were as hard as flint. + +“So you've brought your bully with you, Ned?” said he. “You might at +least have done your fighting yourself, if it must come to a fight.” + +“So I will,” cried Lord Rufton. “Here and now.” + +“When I've killed this swaggering Frenchman,” said Lord Dacre. He +stepped to a side table and opened a brass-bound case. “By Gad,” said +he, “either that man or I go out of this room feet foremost. I meant +well by you, Ned; I did, by George, but I'll shoot this led-captain of +yours as sure as my name's George Dacre. Take your choice of pistols, +sir, and shoot across this table. The barkers are loaded. Aim straight +and kill me if you can, for by the Lord if you don't, you're done.” + +In vain Lord Rufton tried to take the quarrel upon himself. Two things +were clear in my mind--one that the Lady Jane had feared above all +things that her husband and brother should fight, the other that if I +could but kill this big milord, then the whole question would be settled +forever in the best way. Lord Rufton did not want him. Lady Jane did not +want him. Therefore, I, Etienne Gerard, their friend, would pay the debt +of gratitude which I owed them by freeing them of this encumbrance. But, +indeed, there was no choice in the matter, for Lord Dacre was as eager +to put a bullet into me as I could be to do the same service to him. In +vain Lord Rufton argued and scolded. The affair must continue. + +“Well, if you must fight my guest instead of myself, let it be to-morrow +morning with two witnesses,” he cried, at last; “this is sheer murder +across the table.” + +“But it suits my humour, Ned,” said Lord Dacre. + +“And mine, sir,” said I. + +“Then I'll have nothing to do with it,” cried Lord Rufton. “I tell you, +George, if you shoot Colonel Gerard under these circumstances you'll +find yourself in the dock instead of on the bench. I won't act as +second, and that's flat.” + +“Sir,” said I, “I am perfectly prepared to proceed without a second.” + +“That won't do. It's against the law,” cried Lord Dacre. “Come, Ned, +don't be a fool. You see we mean to fight. Hang it, man, all I want you +to do is to drop a handkerchief.” + +“I'll take no part in it.” + +“Then I must find someone who will,” said Lord Dacre. + +He threw a cloth over the pistols which lay upon the table, and he rang +the bell. A footman entered. “Ask Colonel Berkeley if he will step this +way. You will find him in the billiard-room.” + +A moment later there entered a tall thin Englishman with a great +moustache, which was a rare thing amid that clean-shaven race. I have +heard since that they were worn only by the Guards and the Hussars. This +Colonel Berkeley was a guardsman. He seemed a strange, tired, languid, +drawling creature with a long black cigar thrusting out, like a pole +from a bush, amidst that immense moustache. He looked from one to the +other of us with true English phlegm, and he betrayed not the slightest +surprise when he was told our intention. + +“Quite so,” said he; “quite so.” + +“I refuse to act, Colonel Berkeley,” cried Lord Rufton. + +“Remember, this duel cannot proceed without you, and I hold you +personally responsible for anything that happens.” + +This Colonel Berkeley appeared to be an authority upon the question, +for he removed the cigar from his mouth and he laid down the law in his +strange, drawling voice. + +“The circumstances are unusual but not irregular, Lord Rufton,” said he. +“This gentleman has given a blow and this other gentleman has received +it. That is a clear issue. Time and conditions depend upon the person +who demands satisfaction. Very good. He claims it here and now, across +the table. He is acting within his rights. I am prepared to accept the +responsibility.” + +There was nothing more to be said. Lord Rufton sat moodily in the corner +with his brows drawn down and his hands thrust deep into the pockets of +his riding-breeches. + +Colonel Berkeley examined the two pistols and laid them both in the +centre of the table. Lord Dacre was at one end and I at the other, with +eight feet of shining mahogany between us. On the hearth-rug with his +back to the fire, stood the tall colonel, his handkerchief in his left +hand, his cigar between two fingers of his right. + +“When I drop the handkerchief,” said he, “you will pick up your pistols +and you will fire at your own convenience. Are you ready?” + +“Yes,” we cried. + +His hand opened and the handkerchief fell. I bent swiftly forward and +seized a pistol, but the table, as I have said, was eight feet across, +and it was easier for this long-armed milord to reach the pistols than +it was for me. + +I had not yet drawn myself straight before he fired, and to this it was +that I owe my life. His bullet would have blown out my brains had I been +erect. As it was it whistled through my curls. At the same instant, just +as I threw up my own pistol to fire, the door flew open and a pair of +arms were thrown round me. It was the beautiful, flushed, frantic face +of Lady Jane which looked up into mine. + +“You sha'n't fire! Colonel Gerard, for my sake don't fire,” she cried. +“It is a mistake, I tell you, a mistake, a mistake! He is the best and +dearest of husbands. Never again shall I leave his side.” Her hands slid +down my arm and closed upon my pistol. + +“Jane, Jane,” cried Lord Rufton; “come with me. You should not be here. +Come away.” + +“It is all confoundedly irregular,” said Colonel Berkeley. + +“Colonel Gerard, you won't fire, will you? My heart would break if he +were hurt.” + +“Hang it all, Jinny, give the fellow fair play,” cried Lord Dacre. “He +stood my fire like a man, and I won't see him interfered with. Whatever +happens I can't get worse than I deserve.” + +But already there had passed between me and the lady a quick glance of +the eyes which told her everything. + +Her hands slipped from my arm. “I leave my husband's life and my own +happiness to Colonel Gerard,” said she. + +How well she knew me, this admirable woman! I stood for an instant +irresolute, with the pistol cocked in my hand. My antagonist faced me +bravely, with no blenching of his sunburnt face and no flinching of his +bold, blue eyes. + +“Come, come, sir, take your shot!” cried the colonel from the mat. + +“Let us have it, then,” said Lord Dacre. + +I would, at least, show them how completely his life was at the mercy of +my skill. So much I owed to my own self-respect. I glanced round for a +mark. The colonel was looking toward my antagonist, expecting to see him +drop. His face was sideways to me, his long cigar projecting from his +lips with an inch of ash at the end of it. + +Quick as a flash I raised my pistol and fired. + +“Permit me to trim your ash, sir,” said I, and I bowed with a grace +which is unknown among these islanders. + +I am convinced that the fault lay with the pistol and not with my aim. +I could hardly believe my own eyes when I saw that I had snapped off the +cigar within half an inch of his lips. He stood staring at me with the +ragged stub of the cigar-end sticking out from his singed mustache. I +can see him now with his foolish, angry eyes and his long, thin, puzzled +face. Then he began to talk. I have always said that the English are not +really a phlegmatic or a taciturn nation if you stir them out of their +groove. No one could have talked in a more animated way than this +colonel. Lady Jane put her hands over her ears. + +“Come, come, Colonel Berkeley,” said Lord Dacre, sternly, “you forget +yourself. There is a lady in the room.” + +The colonel gave a stiff bow. + +“If Lady Dacre will kindly leave the room,” said he, + +“I will be able to tell this infernal little Frenchman what I think of +him and his monkey tricks.” + +I was splendid at that moment, for I ignored the words that he had said +and remembered only the extreme provocation. + +“Sir,” said I, “I freely offer you my apologies for this unhappy +incident. I felt that if I did not discharge my pistol Lord Dacre's +honour might feel hurt, and yet it was quite impossible for me, after +hearing what this lady has said, to aim it at her husband. I looked +round for a mark, therefore, and I had the extreme misfortune to blow +your cigar out of your mouth when my intention had merely been to snuff +the ash. I was betrayed by my pistol. This is my explanation, sir, +and if after listening to my apologies you still feel that I owe you +satisfaction, I need not say that it is a request which I am unable to +refuse.” + +It was certainly a charming attitude which I had assumed, and it won the +hearts of all of them. Lord Dacre stepped forward and wrung me by the +hand. “By George, sir,” said he, “I never thought to feel toward a +Frenchman as I do to you. You're a man and a gentleman, and I can't say +more.” Lord Rufton said nothing, but his hand-grip told me all that he +thought. Even Colonel Berkeley paid me a compliment, and declared that +he would think no more about the unfortunate cigar. + +And she--ah, if you could have seen the look she gave me, the flushed +cheek, the moist eye, the tremulous lip! + +When I think of my beautiful Lady Jane it is at that moment that +I recall her. They would have had me stay to dinner, but you will +understand, my friends, that this was no time for either Lord Rufton or +myself to remain at Gravel Hanger. This reconciled couple desired +only to be alone. In the chaise he had persuaded her of his sincere +repentance, and once again they were a loving husband and wife. If they +were to remain so it was best perhaps that I should go. Why should I +unsettle this domestic peace? Even against my own will my mere presence +and appearance might have their effect upon the lady. No, no, I must +tear myself away--even her persuasions were unable to make me stop. +Years afterward I heard that the household of the Dacres was among the +happiest in the whole country, and that no cloud had ever come again to +darken their lives. Yet I dare say if he could have seen into his wife's +mind--but there, I say no more! A lady's secret is her own, and I fear +that she and it are buried long years ago in some Devonshire churchyard. +Perhaps all that gay circle are gone and the Lady Jane only lives now +in the memory of an old half-pay French brigadier. He at least can never +forget. + + + + +VI. How the Brigadier Rode to Minsk + +I would have a stronger wine to-night, my friends, a wine of Burgundy +rather than of Bordeaux. It is that my heart, my old soldier heart, is +heavy within me. It is a strange thing, this age which creeps upon one. +One does not know, one does not understand; the spirit is ever the same, +and one does not remember how the poor body crumbles. But there comes a +moment when it is brought home, when quick as the sparkle of a whirling +sabre it is clear to us, and we see the men we were and the men we +are. Yes, yes, it was so to-day, and I would have a wine of Burgundy +to-night. White Burgundy--Montrachet--Sir, I am your debtor! + +It was this morning in the Champ de Mars. Your pardon, friends, while +an old man tells his trouble. You saw the review. Was it not splendid? I +was in the enclosure for veteran officers who have been decorated. + +This ribbon on my breast was my passport. The cross itself I keep at +home in a leathern pouch. They did us honour, for we were placed at the +saluting point, with the Emperor and the carriages of the Court upon our +right. + +It is years since I have been to a review, for I cannot approve of many +things which I have seen. I do not approve of the red breeches of the +infantry. It was in white breeches that the infantry used to fight. Red +is for the cavalry. A little more, and they would ask our busbies and +our spurs! Had I been seen at a review they might well have said that I, +Etienne Gerard, had condoned it. So I have stayed at home. But this war +of the Crimea is different. The men go to battle. + +It is not for me to be absent when brave men gather. + +My faith, they march well, those little infantrymen! + +They are not large, but they are very solid and they carry themselves +well. I took off my hat to them as they passed. Then there came the +guns. They were good guns, well horsed and well manned. I took off my +hat to them. Then came the Engineers, and to them also I took off my +hat. There are no braver men than the Engineers. Then came the cavalry, +Lancers, Cuirassiers, Chasseurs, and Spahis. To all of them in turn I +was able to take off my hat, save only to the Spahis. + +The Emperor had no Spahis. But when all of the others had passed, what +think you came at the close? A brigade of Hussars, and at the charge! + +Oh, my friends, the pride and the glory and the beauty, the flash and +the sparkle, the roar of the hoofs and the jingle of chains, the tossing +manes, the noble heads, the rolling cloud, and the dancing waves of +steel! My heart drummed to them as they passed. And the last of all, +was it not my own old regiment? My eyes fell upon the grey and silver +dolmans, with the leopard-skin shabraques, and at that instant the years +fell away from me and I saw my own beautiful men and horses, even as +they had swept behind their young colonel, in the pride of our youth and +our strength, just forty years ago. Up flew my cane. “Chargez! En avant! +Vive l'Empereur!” + +It was the past calling to the present. But oh, what a thin, piping +voice! Was this the voice that had once thundered from wing to wing of +a strong brigade? And the arm that could scarce wave a cane, were these +the muscles of fire and steel which had no match in all Napoleon's +mighty host? They smiled at me. They cheered me. The Emperor laughed and +bowed. But to me the present was a dim dream, and what was real were my +eight hundred dead Hussars and the Etienne of long ago. + +Enough--a brave man can face age and fate as he faced Cossacks and +Uhlans. But there are times when Montrachet is better than the wine of +Bordeaux. + +It is to Russia that they go, and so I will tell you a story of Russia. +Ah, what an evil dream of the night it seems! Blood and ice. Ice and +blood. Fierce faces with snow upon the whiskers. Blue hands held out +for succour. And across the great white plain the one long black line +of moving figures, trudging, trudging, a hundred miles, another hundred, +and still always the same white plain. Sometimes there were fir-woods +to limit it, sometimes it stretched away to the cold blue sky, but the +black line stumbled on and on. Those weary, ragged, starving men, the +spirit frozen out of them, looked neither to right nor left, but with +sunken faces and rounded backs trailed onward and ever onward, making +for France as wounded beasts make for their lair. There was no speaking, +and you could scarce hear the shuffle of feet in the snow. Once only I +heard them laugh. It was outside Wilna, when an aide-de-camp rode up to +the head of that dreadful column and asked if that were the Grand Army. +All who were within hearing looked round, and when they saw those broken +men, those ruined regiments, those fur-capped skeletons who were once +the Guard, they laughed, and the laugh crackled down the column like a +feu de joie. I have heard many a groan and cry and scream in my life, +but nothing so terrible as the laugh of the Grand Army. + +But why was it that these helpless men were not destroyed by the +Russians? Why was it that they were not speared by the Cossacks or +herded into droves, and driven as prisoners into the heart of Russia? On +every side as you watched the black snake winding over the snow you +saw also dark, moving shadows which came and went like cloud drifts on +either flank and behind. They were the Cossacks, who hung round us like +wolves round the flock. + +But the reason why they did not ride in upon us was that all the ice of +Russia could not cool the hot hearts of some of our soldiers. To the end +there were always those who were ready to throw themselves between these +savages and their prey. One man above all rose greater as the danger +thickened, and won a higher name amid disaster than he had done when he +led our van to victory. To him I drink this glass--to Ney, the red-maned +Lion, glaring back over his shoulder at the enemy who feared to tread +too closely on his heels. I can see him now, his broad white face +convulsed with fury, his light blue eyes sparkling like flints, his +great voice roaring and crashing amid the roll of the musketry. His +glazed and featherless cocked hat was the ensign upon which France +rallied during those dreadful days. + +It is well known that neither I nor the regiment of Hussars of Conflans +were at Moscow. We were left behind on the lines of communication +at Borodino. How the Emperor could have advanced without us is +incomprehensible to me, and, indeed, it was only then that I understood +that his judgment was weakening and that he was no longer the man that +he had been. However, a soldier has to obey orders, and so I remained +at this village, which was poisoned by the bodies of thirty thousand men +who had lost their lives in the great battle. I spent the late autumn in +getting my horses into condition and reclothing my men, so that when the +army fell back on Borodino my Hussars were the best of the cavalry, and +were placed under Ney in the rear-guard. + +What could he have done without us during those dreadful days? “Ah, +Gerard,” said he one evening--but it is not for me to repeat the words. +Suffice it that he spoke what the whole army felt. The rear-guard +covered the army and the Hussars of Conflans covered the rear-guard. +There was the whole truth in a sentence. + +Always the Cossacks were on us. Always we held them off. Never a day +passed that we had not to wipe our sabres. That was soldiering indeed. + +But there came a time between Wilna and Smolensk when the situation +became impossible. Cossacks and even cold we could fight, but we could +not fight hunger as well. Food must be got at all costs. That night Ney +sent for me to the waggon in which he slept. His great head was sunk on +his hands. Mind and body he was wearied to death. + +“Colonel Gerard,” said he, “things are going very badly with us. The men +are starving. We must have food at all costs.” + +“The horses,” I suggested. + +“Save your handful of cavalry; there are none left.” + +“The band,” said I. + +He laughed, even in his despair. + +“Why the band?” he asked. + +“Fighting men are of value.” + +“Good,” said he. “You would play the game down to the last card and so +would I. Good, Gerard, good!” + +He clasped my hand in his. “But there is one chance for us yet, Gerard.” + He unhooked a lantern from the roof of the waggon and he laid it on +a map which was stretched before him. “To the south of us,” said he, +“there lies the town of Minsk. I have word from a Russian deserter that +much corn has been stored in the town-hall. I wish you to take as many +men as you think best, set forth for Minsk, seize the corn, load any +carts which you may collect in the town, and bring them to me between +here and Smolensk. If you fail it is but a detachment cut off. If you +succeed it is new life to the army.” + +He had not expressed himself well, for it was evident that if we failed +it was not merely the loss of a detachment. It is quality as well as +quantity which counts. + +And yet how honourable a mission and how glorious a risk! If mortal men +could bring it, then the corn should come from Minsk. I said so, and +spoke a few burning words about a brave man's duty until the Marshal was +so moved that he rose and, taking me affectionately by the shoulders, +pushed me out of the waggon. + +It was clear to me that in order to succeed in my enterprise I should +take a small force and depend rather upon surprise than upon numbers. +A large body could not conceal itself, would have great difficulty in +getting food, and would cause all the Russians around us to concentrate +for its certain destruction. On the other hand, if a small body of +cavalry could get past the Cossacks unseen it was probable that they +would find no troops to oppose them, for we knew that the main Russian +army was several days' march behind us. This corn was meant, no doubt, +for their consumption. A squadron of Hussars and thirty Polish Lancers +were all whom I chose for the venture. That very night we rode out of +the camp, and struck south in the direction of Minsk. + +Fortunately there was but a half moon, and we were able to pass without +being attacked by the enemy. Twice we saw great fires burning amid the +snow, and around them a thick bristle of long poles. These were the +lances of Cossacks, which they had stood upright while they slept. It +would have been a great joy to us to have charged in amongst them, for +we had much to revenge, and the eyes of my comrades looked longingly +from me to those red flickering patches in the darkness. My faith, I was +sorely tempted to do it, for it would have been a good lesson to teach +them that they must keep a few miles between themselves and a French +army. It is the essence of good generalship, however, to keep one thing +before one at a time, and so we rode silently on through the snow, +leaving these Cossack bivouacs to right and left. Behind us the black +sky was all mottled with a line of flame which showed where our own poor +wretches were trying to keep themselves alive for another day of misery +and starvation. + +All night we rode slowly onward, keeping our horses' tails to the Pole +Star. There were many tracks in the snow, and we kept to the line of +these, that no one might remark that a body of cavalry had passed that +way. + +These are the little precautions which mark the experienced officer. +Besides, by keeping to the tracks we were most likely to find the +villages, and only in the villages could we hope to get food. The dawn +of day found us in a thick fir-wood, the trees so loaded with snow that +the light could hardly reach us. When we had found our way out of it it +was full daylight, the rim of the rising sun peeping over the edge of +the great snow-plain and turning it crimson from end to end. I halted +my Hussars and Lancers under the shadow of the wood, and I studied +the country. Close to us there was a small farm-house. Beyond, at the +distance of several miles, was a village. Far away on the sky-line +rose a considerable town all bristling with church towers. This must be +Minsk. In no direction could I see any signs of troops. It was evident +that we had passed through the Cossacks and that there was nothing +between us and our goal. A joyous shout burst from my men when I told +them our position, and we advanced rapidly toward the village. + +I have said, however, that there was a small farm-house immediately in +front of us. As we rode up to it I observed that a fine grey horse +with a military saddle was tethered by the door. Instantly I galloped +forward, but before I could reach it a man dashed out of the door, flung +himself on to the horse, and rode furiously away, the crisp, dry snow +flying up in a cloud behind him. The sunlight gleamed upon his gold +epaulettes, and I knew that he was a Russian officer. He would raise the +whole country-side if we did not catch him. I put spurs to Violette and +flew after him. My troopers followed; but there was no horse among them +to compare with Violette, and I knew well that if I could not catch the +Russian I need expect no help from them. + +But it is a swift horse indeed and a skilful rider who can hope to +escape from Violette with Etienne Gerard in the saddle. He rode well, +this young Russian, and his mount was a good one, but gradually we wore +him down. + +His face glanced continually over his shoulder--dark, handsome face, +with eyes like an eagle--and I saw as I closed with him that he was +measuring the distance between us. Suddenly he half turned; there were a +flash and a crack as his pistol bullet hummed past my ear. + +Before he could draw his sword I was upon him; but he still spurred +his horse, and the two galloped together over the plain, I with my leg +against the Russian's and my left hand upon his right shoulder. I saw +his hand fly up to his mouth. Instantly I dragged him across my pommel +and seized him by the throat, so that he could not swallow. His horse +shot from under him, but I held him fast and Violette came to a stand. +Sergeant Oudin of the Hussars was the first to join us. He was an old +soldier, and he saw at a glance what I was after. + +“Hold tight, Colonel,” said he, “I'll do the rest.” + +He slipped out his knife, thrust the blade between the clenched teeth of +the Russian, and turned it so as to force his mouth open. There, on his +tongue, was the little wad of wet paper which he had been so anxious to +swallow. Oudin picked it out and I let go of the man's throat. From the +way in which, half strangled as he was, he glanced at the paper I was +sure that it was a message of extreme importance. His hands twitched as +if he longed to snatch it from me. He shrugged his shoulders, however, +and smiled good-humouredly when I apologised for my roughness. + +“And now to business,” said I, when he had done coughing and hawking. +“What is your name?” + +“Alexis Barakoff.” + +“Your rank and regiment?” + +“Captain of the Dragoons of Grodno.” + +“What is this note which you were carrying?” + +“It is a line which I had written to my sweetheart.” + +“Whose name,” said I, examining the address, “is the Hetman Platoff. +Come, come, sir, this is an important military document, which you are +carrying from one general to another. Tell me this instant what it is.” + +“Read it and then you will know.” He spoke perfect French, as do most +of the educated Russians. But he knew well that there is not one French +officer in a thousand who knows a word of Russian. The inside of the +note contained one single line, which ran like this:-- + +“Pustj Franzuzy pridutt v Minsk. Min gotovy.” + +I stared at it, and I had to shake my head. Then I showed it to my +Hussars, but they could make nothing of it. The Poles were all rough +fellows who could not read or write, save only the sergeant, who came +from Memel, in East Prussia, and knew no Russian. It was maddening, for +I felt that I had possession of some important secret upon which the +safety of the army might depend, and yet I could make no sense of it. +Again I entreated our prisoner to translate it, and offered him his +freedom if he would do so. He only smiled at my request. + +I could not but admire him, for it was the very smile which I should +have myself smiled had I been in his position. + +“At least,” said I, “tell us the name of this village.” + +“It is Dobrova.” + +“And that is Minsk over yonder, I suppose.” + +“Yes, that is Minsk.” + +“Then we shall go to the village and we shall very soon find some one +who will translate this despatch.” + +So we rode onward together, a trooper with his carbine unslung on either +side of our prisoner. The village was but a little place, and I set a +guard at the ends of the single street, so that no one could escape from +it. It was necessary to call a halt and to find some food for the men +and horses, since they had travelled all night and had a long journey +still before them. + +There was one large stone house in the centre of the village, and to +this I rode. It was the house of the priest--a snuffy and ill-favoured +old man who had not a civil answer to any of our questions. An uglier +fellow I never met, but, my faith, it was very different with his only +daughter, who kept house for him. She was a brunette, a rare thing in +Russia, with creamy skin, raven hair, and a pair of the most glorious +dark eyes that ever kindled at the sight of a Hussar. From the first +glance I saw that she was mine. It was no time for love-making when +a soldier's duty had to be done, but still, as I took the simple meal +which they laid before me, I chatted lightly with the lady, and we were +the best of friends before an hour had passed. Sophie was her first +name, her second I never knew. I taught her to call me Etienne, and I +tried to cheer her up, for her sweet face was sad and there were tears +in her beautiful dark eyes. I pressed her to tell me what it was which +was grieving her. + +“How can I be otherwise,” said she, speaking French with a most adorable +lisp, “when one of my poor countrymen is a prisoner in your hands? I saw +him between two of your Hussars as you rode into the village.” + +“It is the fortune of war,” said I. “His turn to-day; mine, perhaps, +to-morrow.” + +“But consider, Monsieur--” said she. + +“Etienne,” said I. + +“Oh, Monsieur----” + +“Etienne,” said I. + +“Well, then,” she cried, beautifully flushed and desperate, “consider, +Etienne, that this young officer will be taken back to your army and +will be starved or frozen, for if, as I hear, your own soldiers have a +hard march, what will be the lot of a prisoner?” + +I shrugged my shoulders. + +“You have a kind face, Etienne,” said she; “you would not condemn this +poor man to certain death. I entreat you to let him go.” + +Her delicate hand rested upon my sleeve, her dark eyes looked +imploringly into mine. + +A sudden thought passed through my mind. I would grant her request, but +I would demand a favour in return. + +At my order the prisoner was brought up into the room. + +“Captain Barakoff,” said I, “this young lady has begged me to release +you, and I am inclined to do so. I would ask you to give your parole +that you will remain in this dwelling for twenty-four hours, and take no +steps to inform anyone of our movements.” + +“I will do so,” said he. + +“Then I trust in your honour. One man more or less can make no +difference in a struggle between great armies, and to take you back as +a prisoner would be to condemn you to death. Depart, sir, and show your +gratitude not to me, but to the first French officer who falls into your +hands.” + +When he was gone I drew my paper from my pocket. + +“Now, Sophie,” said I, “I have done what you asked me, and all that I +ask in return is that you will give me a lesson in Russian.” + +“With all my heart,” said she. + +“Let us begin on this,” said I, spreading out the paper before her. “Let +us take it word for word and see what it means.” + +She looked at the writing with some surprise. “It means,” said she, “if +the French come to Minsk all is lost.” Suddenly a look of consternation +passed over her beautiful face. “Great Heavens!” she cried, “what is it +that I have done? I have betrayed my country! Oh, Etienne, your eyes are +the last for whom this message is meant. How could you be so cunning as +to make a poor, simple-minded, and unsuspecting girl betray the cause of +her country?” + +I consoled my poor Sophie as best I might, and I assured her that it was +no reproach to her that she should be outwitted by so old a campaigner +and so shrewd a man as myself. But it was no time now for talk. This +message made it clear that the corn was indeed at Minsk, and that there +were no troops there to defend it. I gave a hurried order from the +window, the trumpeter blew the assembly, and in ten minutes we had left +the village behind us and were riding hard for the city, the gilded +domes and minarets of which glimmered above the snow of the horizon. +Higher they rose and higher, until at last, as the sun sank toward the +west, we were in the broad main street, and galloped up it amid the +shouts of the moujiks and the cries of frightened women until we found +ourselves in front of the great town-hall. My cavalry I drew up in the +square, and I, with my two sergeants, Oudin and Papilette, rushed into +the building. + +Heavens! shall I ever forget the sight which greeted us? Right in front +of us was drawn up a triple line of Russian Grenadiers. Their muskets +rose as we entered, and a crashing volley burst into our very faces. +Oudin and Papilette dropped upon the floor, riddled with bullets. + +For myself, my busby was shot away and I had two holes through my +dolman. The Grenadiers ran at me with their bayonets. “Treason!” I +cried. “We are betrayed! Stand to your horses!” I rushed out of the +hall, but the whole square was swarming with troops. + +From every side street Dragoons and Cossacks were riding down upon us, +and such a rolling fire had burst from the surrounding houses that half +my men and horses were on the ground. “Follow me!” I yelled, and sprang +upon Violette, but a giant of a Russian Dragoon officer threw his arms +round me and we rolled on the ground together. + +He shortened his sword to kill me, but, changing his mind, he seized +me by the throat and banged my head against the stones until I was +unconscious. So it was that I became the prisoner of the Russians. + +When I came to myself my only regret was that my captor had not beaten +out my brains. There in the grand square of Minsk lay half my troopers +dead or wounded, with exultant crowds of Russians gathered round them. + +The rest in a melancholy group were herded into the porch of the +town-hall, a sotnia of Cossacks keeping guard over them. Alas! what +could I say, what could I do? It was evident that I had led my men into +a carefully-baited trap. They had heard of our mission and they had +prepared for us. And yet there was that despatch which had caused me to +neglect all precautions and to ride straight into the town. How was I to +account for that? The tears ran down my cheeks as I surveyed the ruin of +my squadron, and as I thought of the plight of my comrades of the Grand +Army who awaited the food which I was to have brought them. Ney had +trusted me and I had failed him. How often he would strain his eyes over +the snow-fields for that convoy of grain which should never gladden his +sight! My own fate was hard enough. An exile in Siberia was the best +which the future could bring me. But you will believe me, my friends, +that it was not for his own sake, but for that of his starving comrades, +that Etienne Gerard's cheeks were lined by his tears, frozen even as +they were shed. + +“What's this?” said a gruff voice at my elbow; and I turned to face the +huge, black-bearded Dragoon who had dragged me from my saddle. “Look at +the Frenchman crying! I thought that the Corsican was followed by brave +men and not by children.” + +“If you and I were face to face and alone, I should let you see which is +the better man,” said I. + +For answer the brute struck me across the face with his open hand. I +seized him by the throat, but a dozen of his soldiers tore me away from +him, and he struck me again while they held my hands. + +“You base hound,” I cried, “is this the way to treat an officer and a +gentleman?” + +“We never asked you to come to Russia,” said he. “If you do you must +take such treatment as you can get. I would shoot you off-hand if I had +my way.” + +“You will answer for this some day,” I cried, as I wiped the blood from +my moustache. + +“If the Hetman Platoff is of my way of thinking you will not be alive +this time to-morrow,” he answered, with a ferocious scowl. He added some +words in Russian to his troops, and instantly they all sprang to their +saddles. + +Poor Violette, looking as miserable as her master, was led round and +I was told to mount her. My left arm was tied with a thong which was +fastened to the stirrup-iron of a sergeant of Dragoons. So in most sorry +plight I and the remnant of my men set forth from Minsk. + +Never have I met such a brute as this man Sergine, who commanded the +escort. The Russian army contains the best and the worst in the world, +but a worse than Major Sergine of the Dragoons of Kieff I have never +seen in any force outside of the guerillas of the Peninsula. + +He was a man of great stature, with a fierce, hard face and a bristling +black beard, which fell over his cuirass. + +I have been told since that he was noted for his strength and his +bravery, and I could answer for it that he had the grip of a bear, for +I had felt it when he tore me from my saddle. He was a wit, too, in his +way, and made continual remarks in Russian at our expense which set all +his Dragoons and Cossacks laughing. Twice he beat my comrades with his +riding-whip, and once he approached me with the lash swung over his +shoulder, but there was something in my eyes which prevented it from +falling. + +So in misery and humiliation, cold and starving, we rode in a +disconsolate column across the vast snow-plain. The sun had sunk, but +still in the long northern twilight we pursued our weary journey. Numbed +and frozen, with my head aching from the blows it had received, I was +borne onward by Violette, hardly conscious of where I was or whither I +was going. The little mare walked with a sunken head, only raising it to +snort her contempt for the mangy Cossack ponies who were round her. + +But suddenly the escort stopped, and I found that we had halted in the +single street of a small Russian village. + +There was a church on one side, and on the other was a large stone +house, the outline of which seemed to me to be familiar. I looked around +me in the twilight, and then I saw that we had been led back to Dobrova, +and that this house at the door of which we were waiting was the same +house of the priest at which we had stopped in the morning. Here it +was that my charming Sophie in her innocence had translated the unlucky +message which had in some strange way led us to our ruin. To think that +only a few hours before we had left this very spot with such high hopes +and all fair prospects for our mission, and now the remnants of us +waited as beaten and humiliated men for whatever lot a brutal enemy +might ordain! But such is the fate of the soldier, my friends--kisses +to-day, blows to-morrow. Tokay in a palace, ditch-water in a hovel, furs +or rags, a full purse or an empty pocket, ever swaying from the best to +the worst, with only his courage and his honour unchanging. + +The Russian horsemen dismounted, and my poor fellows were ordered to +do the same. It was already late, and it was clearly their intention +to spend the night in this village. There were great cheering and joy +amongst the peasants when they understood that we had all been taken, +and they flocked out of their houses with flaming torches, the women +carrying out tea and brandy for the Cossacks. Amongst others the old +priest came forth--the same whom we had seen in the morning. He was all +smiles now, and he bore with him some hot punch on a salver, the reek of +which I can remember still. Behind her father was Sophie. With horror +I saw her clasp Major Sergine's hand as she congratulated him upon the +victory he had won and the prisoners he had made. The old priest, her +father, looked at me with an insolent face and made insulting remarks +at my expense, pointing at me with his lean and grimy hand. His fair +daughter Sophie looked at me also, but she said nothing, and I could +read her tender pity in her dark eyes. At last she turned to Major +Sergine and said something to him in Russian, on which he frowned and +shook his head impatiently. + +She appeared to plead with him, standing there in the flood of light +which shone from the open door of her father's house. My eyes were fixed +upon the two faces, that of the beautiful girl and of the dark, fierce +man, for my instinct told me that it was my own fate which was under +debate. For a long time the soldier shook his head, and then, at last +softening before her pleadings, he appeared to give way. He turned to +where I stood with my guardian sergeant beside me. + +“These good people offer you the shelter of their roof for the night,” + said he to me, looking me up and down with vindictive eyes. “I find +it hard to refuse them, but I tell you straight that for my part I had +rather see you on the snow. It would cool your hot blood, you rascal of +a Frenchman!” + +I looked at him with the contempt that I felt. + +“You were born a savage and you will die one,” said I. + +My words stung him, for he broke into an oath, raising his whip as if he +would strike me. + +“Silence, you crop-eared dog!” he cried. “Had I my way some of the +insolence would be frozen out of you before morning.” Mastering his +passion, he turned upon Sophie with what he meant to be a gallant +manner. “If you have a cellar with a good lock,” said he, “the fellow +may lie in it for the night, since you have done him the honour to take +an interest in his comfort. I must have his parole that he will not +attempt to play us any tricks, as I am answerable for him until I hand +him over to the Hetman Platoff to-morrow.” + +His supercilious manner was more than I could endure. + +He had evidently spoken French to the lady in order that I might +understand the humiliating way in which he referred to me. + +“I will take no favour from you,” said I. “You may do what you like, but +I will never give you my parole.” + +The Russian shrugged his great shoulders, and turned away as if the +matter were ended. + +“Very well, my fine fellow, so much the worse for your fingers and toes. +We shall see how you are in the morning after a night in the snow.” + +“One moment, Major Sergine,” cried Sophie. “You must not be so hard upon +this prisoner. There are some special reasons why he has a claim upon +our kindness and mercy.” + +The Russian looked with suspicion upon his face from her to me. + +“What are the special reasons? You certainly seem to take a remarkable +interest in this Frenchman,” said he. + +“The chief reason is that he has this very morning of his own accord +released Captain Alexis Barakoff, of the Dragoons of Grodno.” + +“It is true,” said Barakoff, who had come out of the house. “He captured +me this morning, and he released me upon parole rather than take me back +to the French army, where I should have been starved.” + +“Since Colonel Gerard has acted so generously you will surely, now +that fortune has changed, allow us to offer him the poor shelter of our +cellar upon this bitter night,” said Sophie. “It is a small return for +his generosity.” + +But the Dragoon was still in the sulks. + +“Let him give me his parole first that he will not attempt to escape,” + said he. “Do you hear, sir? Do you give me your parole?” + +“I give you nothing,” said I. + +“Colonel Gerard,” cried Sophie, turning to me with a coaxing smile, “you +will give me your parole, will you not?” + +“To you, mademoiselle, I can refuse nothing. I will give you my parole, +with pleasure.” + +“There, Major Sergine,” cried Sophie, in triumph, “that is surely +sufficient. You have heard him say that he gives me his parole. I will +be answerable for his safety.” + +In an ungracious fashion my Russian bear grunted his consent, and so I +was led into the house, followed by the scowling father and by the +big, black-bearded Dragoon. In the basement there was a large and roomy +chamber, where the winter logs were stored. Thither it was that I was +led, and I was given to understand that this was to be my lodging for +the night. One side of this bleak apartment was heaped up to the ceiling +with fagots of firewood. The rest of the room was stone-flagged and +bare-walled, with a single, deep-set window upon one side, which was +safely guarded with iron bars. For light I had a large stable lantern, +which swung from a beam of the low ceiling. Major Sergine smiled as he +took this down, and swung it round so as to throw its light into every +corner of that dreary chamber. + +“How do you like our Russian hotels, monsieur?” he asked, with his +hateful sneer. “They are not very grand, but they are the best that we +can give you. Perhaps the next time that you Frenchmen take a fancy to +travel you will choose some other country where they will make you more +comfortable.” He stood laughing at me, his white teeth gleaming through +his beard. Then he left me, and I heard the great key creak in the lock. + +For an hour of utter misery, chilled in body and soul, I sat upon a pile +of fagots, my face sunk upon my hands and my mind full of the saddest +thoughts. It was cold enough within those four walls, but I thought of +the sufferings of my poor troopers outside, and I sorrowed with their +sorrow. Then I paced up and down, and I clapped my hands together and +kicked my feet against the walls to keep them from being frozen. The +lamp gave out some warmth, but still it was bitterly cold, and I had had +no food since morning. It seemed to me that everyone had forgotten me, +but at last I heard the key turn in the lock, and who should enter but +my prisoner of the morning, Captain Alexis Barakoff. A bottle of wine +projected from under his arm, and he carried a great plate of hot stew +in front of him. + +“Hush!” said he; “not a word! Keep up your heart! I cannot stop to +explain, for Sergine is still with us. Keep awake and ready!” With these +hurried words he laid down the welcome food and ran out of the room. + +“Keep awake and ready!” The words rang in my ears. I ate my food and +I drank my wine, but it was neither food nor wine which had warmed the +heart within me. What could those words of Barakoff mean? + +Why was I to remain awake? For what was I to be ready? Was it possible +that there was a chance yet of escape? I have never respected the man +who neglects his prayers at all other times and yet prays when he is in +peril. It is like a bad soldier who pays no respect to the colonel save +when he would demand a favour of him. And yet when I thought of the +salt-mines of Siberia on the one side and of my mother in France upon +the other, I could not help a prayer rising, not from my lips, but from +my heart, that the words of Barakoff might mean all that I hoped. But +hour after hour struck upon the village clock, and still I heard nothing +save the call of the Russian sentries in the street outside. + +Then at last my heart leaped within me, for I heard a light step in the +passage. An instant later the key turned, the door opened, and Sophie +was in the room. + +“Monsieur--” she cried. + +“Etienne,” said I. + +“Nothing will change you,” said she. “But is it possible that you do not +hate me? Have you forgiven me the trick which I played you?” + +“What trick?” I asked. + +“Good heavens! Is it possible that even now you have not understood it? +You have asked me to translate the despatch. I have told you that it +meant, 'If the French come to Minsk all is lost.'” + +“What did it mean, then?” + +“It means, 'Let the French come to Minsk. We are awaiting them.”' + +I sprang back from her. + +“You betrayed me!” I cried. “You lured me into this trap. It is to you +that I owe the death and capture of my men. Fool that I was to trust a +woman!” + +“Do not be unjust, Colonel Gerard. I am a Russian woman, and my first +duty is to my country. Would you not wish a French girl to have acted as +I have done? Had I translated the message correctly you would not have +gone to Minsk and your squadron would have escaped. Tell me that you +forgive me!” + +She looked bewitching as she stood pleading her cause in front of me. +And yet, as I thought of my dead men, I could not take the hand which +she held out to me. + +“Very good,” said she, as she dropped it by her side. + +“You feel for your own people and I feel for mine, and so we are equal. +But you have said one wise and kindly thing within these walls, Colonel +Gerard. You have said, 'One man more or less can make no difference in +a struggle between two great armies.' Your lesson of nobility is not +wasted. Behind those fagots is an unguarded door. Here is the key to it. +Go forth, Colonel Gerard, and I trust that we may never look upon each +other's faces again.” + +I stood for an instant with the key in my hand and my head in a whirl. +Then I handed it back to her. + +“I cannot do it,” I said. + +“Why not?” + +“I have given my parole.” + +“To whom?” she asked. + +“Why, to you.” + +“And I release you from it.” + +My heart bounded with joy. Of course, it was true what she said. I +had refused to give my parole to Sergine. I owed him no duty. If she +relieved me from my promise my honour was clear. I took the key from her +hand. + +“You will find Captain Barakoff at the end of the village street,” said +she. “We of the North never forget either an injury or a kindness. He +has your mare and your sword waiting for you. Do not delay an instant, +for in two hours it will be dawn.” + +So I passed out into the star-lit Russian night, and had that last +glimpse of Sophie as she peered after me through the open door. She +looked wistfully at me as if she expected something more than the cold +thanks which I gave her, but even the humblest man has his pride, and I +will not deny that mine was hurt by the deception which she had played +upon me. I could not have brought myself to kiss her hand, far less her +lips. The door led into a narrow alley, and at the end of it stood a +muffled figure, who held Violette by the bridle. + +“You told me to be kind to the next French officer whom I found in +distress,” said he. “Good luck! Bon voyage!” he whispered, as I bounded +into the saddle. + +“Remember, 'Poltava' is the watchword.” + +It was well that he had given it to me, for twice I had to pass Cossack +pickets before I was clear of the lines. + +I had just ridden past the last vedettes and hoped that I was a free man +again, when there was a soft thudding in the snow behind me, and a heavy +man upon a great black horse came swiftly after me. My first impulse was +to put spurs to Violette. My second, as I saw a long black beard against +a steel cuirass, was to halt and await him. + +“I thought that it was you, you dog of a Frenchman,” he cried, shaking +his drawn sword at me. “So you have broken your parole, you rascal!” + +“I gave no parole.” + +“You lie, you hound!” + +I looked around and no one was coming. The vedettes were motionless and +distant. We were all alone, with the moon above and the snow beneath. +Fortune has ever been my friend. + +“I gave you no parole.” + +“You gave it to the lady.” + +“Then I will answer for it to the lady.” + +“That would suit you better, no doubt. But, unfortunately, you will have +to answer for it to me.” + +“I am ready.” + +“Your sword, too! There is treason in this! Ah, I see it all! The woman +has helped you. She shall see Siberia for this night's work.” + +The words were his death-warrant. For Sophie's sake I could not let him +go back alive. Our blades crossed, and an instant later mine was through +his black beard and deep in his throat. I was on the ground almost as +soon as he, but the one thrust was enough. He died, snapping his teeth +at my ankles like a savage wolf. + +Two days later I had rejoined the army at Smolensk, and was a part once +more of that dreary procession which tramped onward through the snow, +leaving a long weal of blood to show the path which it had taken. + +Enough, my friends; I would not re-awaken the memory of those days of +misery and death. They still come to haunt me in my dreams. When we +halted at last in Warsaw we had left behind us our guns, our transport, +and three-fourths of our comrades. But we did not leave behind us the +honour of Etienne Gerard. They have said that I broke my parole. Let +them beware how they say it to my face, for the story is as I tell it, +and old as I am my forefinger is not too weak to press a trigger when my +honour is in question. + + + + +VII. How the Brigadier Bore Himself at Waterloo + + +I. THE STORY OF THE FOREST INN + +Of all the great battles in which I had the honour of drawing my sword +for the Emperor and for France there was not one which was lost. At +Waterloo, although, in a sense, I was present, I was unable to fight, +and the enemy was victorious. It is not for me to say that there is a +connection between these two things. You know me too well, my friends, +to imagine that I would make such a claim. But it gives matter for +thought, and some have drawn flattering conclusions from it. + +After all, it was only a matter of breaking a few English squares +and the day would have been our own. If the Hussars of Conflans, with +Etienne Gerard to lead them, could not do this, then the best judges are +mistaken. + +But let that pass. The Fates had ordained that I should hold my hand and +that the Empire should fall. But they had also ordained that this day of +gloom and sorrow should bring such honour to me as had never come when I +swept on the wings of victory from Boulogne to Vienna. + +Never had I burned so brilliantly as at that supreme moment when the +darkness fell upon all around me. You are aware that I was faithful to +the Emperor in his adversity, and that I refused to sell my sword and my +honour to the Bourbons. Never again was I to feel my war horse between +my knees, never again to hear the kettledrums and silver trumpets behind +me as I rode in front of my little rascals. But it comforts my heart, +my friends, and it brings the tears to my eyes, to think how great I was +upon that last day of my soldier life, and to remember that of all the +remarkable exploits which have won me the love of so many beautiful +women, and the respect of so many noble men, there was none which, in +splendour, in audacity, and in the great end which was attained, could +compare with my famous ride upon the night of June 18th, 1815. I am +aware that the story is often told at mess-tables and in barrack-rooms, +so that there are few in the army who have not heard it, but modesty has +sealed my lips, until now, my friends, in the privacy of these intimate +gatherings, I am inclined to lay the true facts before you. + +In the first place, there is one thing which I can assure you. In all +his career Napoleon never had so splendid an army as that with which +he took the field for that campaign. In 1813 France was exhausted. For +every veteran there were five children--Marie Louises, as we called +them; for the Empress had busied herself in raising levies while the +Emperor took the field. But it was very different in 1815. The prisoners +had all come back--the men from the snows of Russia, the men from the +dungeons of Spain, the men from the hulks in England. + +These were the dangerous men, veterans of twenty battles, longing for +their old trade, and with hearts filled with hatred and revenge. The +ranks were full of soldiers who wore two and three chevrons, every +chevron meaning five years' service. And the spirit of these men was +terrible. They were raging, furious, fanatical, adoring the Emperor as +a Mameluke does his prophet, ready to fall upon their own bayonets if +their blood could serve him. If you had seen these fierce old veterans +going into battle, with their flushed faces, their savage eyes, their +furious yells, you would wonder that anything could stand against them. +So high was the spirit of France at that time that every other spirit +would have quailed before it; but these people, these English, had +neither spirit nor soul, but only solid, immovable beef, against which +we broke ourselves in vain. That was it, my friends! On the one side, +poetry, gallantry, self-sacrifice--all that is beautiful and heroic. +On the other side, beef. Our hopes, our ideals, our dreams--all were +shattered on that terrible beef of Old England. + +You have read how the Emperor gathered his forces, and then how he and +I, with a hundred and thirty thousand veterans, hurried to the northern +frontier and fell upon the Prussians and the English. On the 16th of +June, Ney held the English in play at Quatre-Bras while we beat the +Prussians at Ligny. It is not for me to say how far I contributed to +that victory, but it is well known that the Hussars of Conflans covered +themselves with glory. They fought well, these Prussians, and eight +thousand of them were left upon the field. The Emperor thought that he +had done with them, as he sent Marshal Grouchy with thirty-two thousand +men to follow them up and to prevent their interfering with his plans. +Then with nearly eighty thousand men, he turned upon these “Goddam” + Englishmen. How much we had to avenge upon them, we Frenchmen--the +guineas of Pitt, the hulks of Portsmouth, the invasion of Wellington, +the perfidious victories of Nelson! At last the day of punishment seemed +to have arisen. + +Wellington had with him sixty-seven thousand men, but many of them were +known to be Dutch and Belgian, who had no great desire to fight against +us. Of good troops he had not fifty thousand. Finding himself in +the presence of the Emperor in person with eighty thousand men, this +Englishman was so paralysed with fear that he could neither move himself +nor his army. You have seen the rabbit when the snake approaches. So +stood the English upon the ridge of Waterloo. The night before, the +Emperor, who had lost an aide-de-camp at Ligny, ordered me to join his +staff, and I had left my Hussars to the charge of Major Victor. I know +not which of us was the most grieved, they or I, that I should be +called away upon the eve of battle, but an order is an order, and a good +soldier can but shrug his shoulders and obey. With the Emperor I rode +across the front of the enemy's position on the morning of the 18th, he +looking at them through his glass and planning which was the shortest +way to destroy them. Soult was at his elbow, and Ney and Foy and others +who had fought the English in Portugal and Spain. “Have a care, Sire,” + said Soult. “The English infantry is very solid.” + +“You think them good soldiers because they have beaten you,” said the +Emperor, and we younger men turned away our faces and smiled. But Ney +and Foy were grave and serious. All the time the English line, chequered +with red and blue and dotted with batteries, was drawn up silent and +watchful within a long musket-shot of us. On the other side of the +shallow valley our own people, having finished their soup, were +assembling for the battle. It had rained very heavily, but at this +moment the sun shone out and beat upon the French army, turning our +brigades of cavalry into so many dazzling rivers of steel, and twinkling +and sparkling on the innumerable bayonets of the infantry. At the sight +of that splendid army, and the beauty and majesty of its appearance, I +could contain myself no longer, but, rising in my stirrups, I waved my +busby and cried, “Vive l'Empereur!” a shout which growled and roared +and clattered from one end of the line to the other, while the horsemen +waved their swords and the footmen held up their shakos upon their +bayonets. The English remained petrified upon their ridge. They knew +that their hour had come. + +And so it would have come if at that moment the word had been given and +the whole army had been permitted to advance. We had but to fall upon +them and to sweep them from the face of the earth. To put aside all +question of courage, we were the more numerous, the older soldiers, and +the better led. But the Emperor desired to do all things in order, +and he waited until the ground should be drier and harder, so that his +artillery could manoeuvre. So three hours were wasted, and it was eleven +o'clock before we saw Jerome Buonaparte's columns advance upon our left +and heard the crash of the guns which told that the battle had begun. +The loss of those three hours was our destruction. The attack upon +the left was directed upon a farm-house which was held by the English +Guards, and we heard the three loud shouts of apprehension which the +defenders were compelled to utter. They were still holding out, and +D'Erlon's corps was advancing upon the right to engage another portion +of the English line, when our attention was called away from the battle +beneath our noses to a distant portion of the field of action. + +The Emperor had been looking through his glass to the extreme left of +the English line, and now he turned suddenly to the Duke of Dalmatia, or +Soult, as we soldiers preferred to call him. + +“What is it, Marshal?” said he. + +We all followed the direction of his gaze, some raising our glasses, +some shading our eyes. There was a thick wood over yonder, then a long, +bare slope, and another wood beyond. Over this bare strip between the +two woods there lay something dark, like the shadow of a moving cloud. + +“I think that they are cattle, Sire,” said Soult. + +At that instant there came a quick twinkle from amid the dark shadow. + +“It is Grouchy,” said the Emperor, and he lowered his glass. “They are +doubly lost, these English. I hold them in the hollow of my hand. They +cannot escape me.” + +He looked round, and his eyes fell upon me. + +“Ah! here is the prince of messengers,” said he. “Are you well mounted, +Colonel Gerard?” + +I was riding my little Violette, the pride of the brigade. + +I said so. + +“Then ride hard to Marshal Grouchy, whose troops you see over yonder. +Tell him that he is to fall upon the left flank and rear of the English +while I attack them in front. Together we should crush them and not a +man escape.” + +I saluted and rode off without a word, my heart dancing with joy that +such a mission should be mine. I looked at that long, solid line of red +and blue looming through the smoke of the guns, and I shook my fist at +it as I went. “We shall crush them and not a man escape.” + +They were the Emperor's words, and it was I, Etienne Gerard, who was to +turn them into deeds. I burned to reach the Marshal, and for an instant +I thought of riding through the English left wing, as being the shortest +cut. I have done bolder deeds and come out safely, but I reflected that +if things went badly with me and I was taken or shot the message would +be lost and the plans of the Emperor miscarry. I passed in front of the +cavalry, therefore, past the Chasseurs, the Lancers of the Guard, the +Carabineers, the Horse Grenadiers, and, lastly, my own little rascals, +who followed me wistfully with their eyes. Beyond the cavalry the Old +Guard was standing, twelve regiments of them, all veterans of many +battles, sombre and severe, in long blue overcoats and high bearskins +from which the plumes had been removed. Each bore within the goatskin +knapsack upon his back the blue and white parade uniform which they +would use for their entry into Brussels next day. As I rode past them I +reflected that these men had never been beaten, and as I looked at +their weather-beaten faces and their stern and silent bearing, I said to +myself that they never would be beaten. Great heavens, how little could +I foresee what a few more hours would bring! + +On the right of the Old Guard were the Young Guard and the 6th Corps of +Lobau, and then I passed Jacquinot's Lancers and Marbot's Hussars, who +held the extreme flank of the line. All these troops knew nothing of the +corps which was coming toward them through the wood, and their attention +was taken up in watching the battle which raged upon their left. More +than a hundred guns were thundering from each side, and the din was so +great that of all the battles which I have fought I cannot recall more +than half-a-dozen which were as noisy. I looked back over my shoulder, +and there were two brigades of Cuirassiers, English and French, pouring +down the hill together, with the sword-blades playing over them like +summer lightning. How I longed to turn Violette, and to lead my Hussars +into the thick of it! What a picture! Etienne Gerard with his back to +the battle, and a fine cavalry action raging behind him. + +But duty is duty, so I rode past Marbot's vedettes and on in the +direction of the wood, passing the village of Frishermont upon my left. + +In front of me lay the great wood, called the Wood of Paris, consisting +mostly of oak trees, with a few narrow paths leading through it. I +halted and listened when I reached it, but out of its gloomy depths +there came no blare of trumpet, no murmur of wheels, no tramp of horses +to mark the advance of that great column which, with my own eyes, I had +seen streaming toward it. The battle roared behind me, but in front all +was as silent as that grave in which so many brave men would shortly +sleep. The sunlight was cut off by the arches of leaves above my head, +and a heavy damp smell rose from the sodden ground. For several miles I +galloped at such a pace as few riders would care to go with roots below +and branches above. Then, at last, for the first time I caught a glimpse +of Grouchy's advance guard. Scattered parties of Hussars passed me on +either side, but some distance off, among the trees. I heard the beating +of a drum far away, and the low, dull murmur which an army makes upon +the march. Any moment I might come upon the staff and deliver my message +to Grouchy in person, for I knew well that on such a march a Marshal of +France would certainly ride with the van of his army. + +Suddenly the trees thinned in front of me, and I understood with delight +that I was coming to the end of the wood, whence I could see the army +and find the Marshal. + +Where the track comes out from amid the trees there is a small cabaret, +where wood-cutters and waggoners drink their wine. Outside the door of +this I reined up my horse for an instant while I took in the scene which +was before me. Some few miles away I saw a second great forest, that of +St. Lambert, out of which the Emperor had seen the troops advancing. It +was easy to see, however, why there had been so long a delay in their +leaving one wood and reaching the other, because between the two ran the +deep defile of the Lasnes, which had to be crossed. Sure enough, a long +column of troops--horse, foot, and guns--was streaming down one side of +it and swarming up the other, while the advance guard was already among +the trees on either side of me. A battery of Horse Artillery was coming +along the road, and I was about to gallop up to it and ask the officer +in command if he could tell me where I should find the Marshal, when +suddenly I observed that, though the gunners were dressed in blue, +they had not the dolman trimmed with red brandenburgs as our own +horse-gunners wear it. Amazed at the sight, I was looking at these +soldiers to left and right when a hand touched my thigh, and there was +the landlord, who had rushed from his inn. + +“Madman!” he cried, “why are you here? What are you doing?” + +“I am seeking Marshal Grouchy.” + +“You are in the heart of the Prussian army. Turn and fly!” + +“Impossible; this is Grouchy's corps.” + +“How do you know?” + +“Because the Emperor has said it.” + +“Then the Emperor has made a terrible mistake! I tell you that a patrol +of Silesian Hussars has this instant left me. Did you not see them in +the wood?” + +“I saw Hussars.” + +“They are the enemy.” + +“Where is Grouchy?” + +“He is behind. They have passed him.” + +“Then how can I go back? If I go forward I may see him yet. I must obey +my orders and find him whereever he is.” + +The man reflected for an instant. + +“Quick! quick!” he cried, seizing my bridle. “Do what I say and you may +yet escape. They have not observed you yet. Come with me and I will hide +you until they pass.” + +Behind his house there was a low stable, and into this he thrust +Violette. Then he half led and half dragged me into the kitchen of the +inn. It was a bare, brick-floored room. A stout, red-faced woman was +cooking cutlets at the fire. + +“What's the matter now?” she asked, looking with a frown from me to the +innkeeper. “Who is this you have brought in?” + +“It is a French officer, Marie. We cannot let the Prussians take him.” + +“Why not?” + +“Why not? Sacred name of a dog, was I not myself a soldier of Napoleon? +Did I not win a musket of honour among the Velites of the Guard? Shall +I see a comrade taken before my eyes? Marie, we must save him.” But the +lady looked at me with most unfriendly eyes. + +“Pierre Charras,” she said, “you will not rest until you have your house +burned over your head. Do you not understand, you blockhead, that if you +fought for Napoleon it was because Napoleon ruled Belgium? He does so no +longer. The Prussians are our allies and this is our enemy. I will have +no Frenchman in this house. Give him up!” + +The innkeeper scratched his head and looked at me in despair, but it was +very evident to me that it was neither for France nor for Belgium that +this woman cared, but that it was the safety of her own house that was +nearest her heart. + +“Madame,” said I, with all the dignity and assurance I could command, +“the Emperor is defeating the English, and the French army will be here +before evening. If you have used me well you will be rewarded, and if +you have denounced me you will be punished and your house will certainly +be burned by the provost-martial.” + +She was shaken by this, and I hastened to complete my victory by other +methods. + +“Surely,” said I, “it is impossible that anyone so beautiful can also be +hard-hearted? You will not refuse me the refuge which I need.” + +She looked at my whiskers and I saw that she was softened. I took her +hand, and in two minutes we were on such terms that her husband swore +roundly that he would give me up himself if I pressed the matter +farther. + +“Besides, the road is full of Prussians,” he cried. + +“Quick! quick! into the loft!” + +“Quick! quick! into the loft!” echoed his wife, and together they +hurried me toward a ladder which led to a trap-door in the ceiling. +There was loud knocking at the door, so you can think that it was not +long before my spurs went twinkling through the hole and the board was +dropped behind me. An instant later I heard the voices of the Germans in +the rooms below me. + +The place in which I found myself was a single long attic, the ceiling +of which was formed by the roof of the house. It ran over the whole of +one side of the inn, and through the cracks in the flooring I could +look down either upon the kitchen, the sitting-room, or the bar at my +pleasure. There were no windows, but the place was in the last stage of +disrepair, and several missing slates upon the roof gave me light and +the means of observation. + +The place was heaped with lumber-fodder at one end and a huge pile of +empty bottles at the other. There was no door or window save the hole +through which I had come up. + +I sat upon the heap of hay for a few minutes to steady myself and to +think out my plans. It was very serious that the Prussians should arrive +upon the field of battle earlier than our reserves, but there appeared +to be only one corps of them, and a corps more or less makes little +difference to such a man as the Emperor. He could afford to give the +English all this and beat them still. + +The best way in which I could serve him, since Grouchy was behind, was +to wait here until they were past, and then to resume my journey, to see +the Marshal, and to give him his orders. If he advanced upon the rear +of the English instead of following the Prussians all would be well. The +fate of France depended upon my judgment and my nerve. It was not the +first time, my friends, as you are well aware, and you know the reasons +that I had to trust that neither nerve nor judgment would ever fail me. +Certainly, the Emperor had chosen the right man for his mission. “The +prince of messengers” he had called me. I would earn my title. + +It was clear that I could do nothing until the Prussians had passed, so +I spent my time in observing them. I have no love for these people, but +I am compelled to say that they kept excellent discipline, for not a man +of them entered the inn, though their lips were caked with dust and they +were ready to drop with fatigue. Those who had knocked at the door were +bearing an insensible comrade, and having left him they returned at once +to the ranks. Several others were carried in in the same fashion and +laid in the kitchen, while a young surgeon, little more than a boy, +remained behind in charge of them. + +Having observed them through the cracks in the floor, I next turned my +attention to the holes in the roof, from which I had an excellent view +of all that was passing outside. The Prussian corps was still streaming +past. It was easy to see that they had made a terrible march and had +little food, for the faces of the men were ghastly, and they were +plastered from head to foot with mud from their falls upon the foul and +slippery roads. Yet, spent as they were, their spirit was excellent, and +they pushed and hauled at the gun-carriages when the wheels sank up to +the axles in the mire, and the weary horses were floundering knee-deep +unable to draw them through. + +The officers rode up and down the column encouraging the more active +with words of praise, and the laggards with blows from the flat of their +swords. All the time from over the wood in front of them there came the +tremendous roar of the battle, as if all the rivers on earth had united +in one gigantic cataract, booming and crashing in a mighty fall. Like +the spray of the cataract was the long veil of smoke which rose high +over the trees. + +The officers pointed to it with their swords, and with hoarse cries from +their parched lips the mud-stained men pushed onward to the battle. For +an hour I watched them pass, and I reflected that their vanguard must +have come into touch with Marbot's vedettes and that the Emperor knew +already of their coming. “You are going very fast up the road, my +friends, but you will come down it a great deal faster,” said I to +myself, and I consoled myself with the thought. + +But an adventure came to break the monotony of this long wait. I was +seated beside my loophole and congratulating myself that the corps was +nearly past, and that the road would soon be clear for my journey, when +suddenly I heard a loud altercation break out in French in the kitchen. + +“You shall not go!” cried a woman's voice. + +“I tell you that I will!” said a man's, and there was a sound of +scuffling. + +In an instant I had my eye to the crack in the floor. + +There was my stout lady, like a faithful watch-dog, at the bottom of +the ladder, while the young German surgeon, white with anger, was +endeavouring to come up it. + +Several of the German soldiers who had recovered from their prostration +were sitting about on the kitchen floor and watching the quarrel with +stolid, but attentive, faces. + +The landlord was nowhere to be seen. + +“There is no liquor there,” said the woman. + +“I do not want liquor; I want hay or straw for these men to lie upon. +Why should they lie on the bricks when there is straw overhead?” + +“There is no straw.” + +“What is up there?” + +“Empty bottles.” + +“Nothing else?” + +“No.” + +For a moment it looked as if the surgeon would abandon his intention, +but one of the soldiers pointed up to the ceiling. I gathered from what +I could understand of his words that he could see the straw sticking +out between the planks. In vain the woman protested. Two of the soldiers +were able to get upon their feet and to drag her aside, while the young +surgeon ran up the ladder, pushed open the trap-door, and climbed into +the loft. + +As he swung the door back I slipped behind it, but as luck would have +it he shut it again behind him, and there we were left standing face to +face. + +Never have I seen a more astonished young man. + +“A French officer!” he gasped. + +“Hush!” said I, “hush! Not a word above a whisper.” + +I had drawn my sword. + +“I am not a combatant,” he said; “I am a doctor. Why do you threaten me +with your sword? I am not armed.” + +“I do not wish to hurt you, but I must protect myself. I am in hiding +here.” + +“A spy!” + +“A spy does not wear such a uniform as this, nor do you find spies on +the staff of an army. I rode by mistake into the heart of this Prussian +corps, and I concealed myself here in the hope of escaping when they are +past. I will not hurt you if you do not hurt me, but if you do not swear +that you will be silent as to my presence you will never go down alive +from this attic.” + +“You can put up your sword, sir,” said the surgeon, and I saw a friendly +twinkle in his eyes. “I am a Pole by birth, and I have no ill-feeling to +you or your people. I will do my best for my patients, but I will do no +more. Capturing Hussars is not one of the duties of a surgeon. With your +permission I will now descend with this truss of hay to make a couch for +these poor fellows below.” + +I had intended to exact an oath from him, but it is my experience that +if a man will not speak the truth he will not swear the truth, so I said +no more. The surgeon opened the trap-door, threw out enough hay for his +purpose, and then descended the ladder, letting down the door behind +him. I watched him anxiously when he rejoined his patients, and so did +my good friend the landlady, but he said nothing and busied himself with +the needs of his soldiers. + +By this time I was sure that the last of the army corps was past, and I +went to my loophole confident that I should find the coast clear, save, +perhaps, for a few stragglers, whom I could disregard. The first +corps was indeed past, and I could see the last files of the infantry +disappearing into the wood; but you can imagine my disappointment when +out of the Forest of St. Lambert I saw a second corps emerging, as +numerous as the first. + +There could be no doubt that the whole Prussian army, which we thought +we had destroyed at Ligny, was about to throw itself upon our right wing +while Marshal Grouchy had been coaxed away upon some fool's errand. + +The roar of guns, much nearer than before, told me that the Prussian +batteries which had passed me were already in action. Imagine my +terrible position! Hour after hour was passing; the sun was sinking +toward the west. + +And yet this cursed inn, in which I lay hid, was like a little island +amid a rushing stream of furious Prussians. + +It was all important that I should reach Marshal Grouchy, and yet I +could not show my nose without being made prisoner. You can think how I +cursed and tore my hair. How little do we know what is in store for us! + +Even while I raged against my ill-fortune, that same fortune was +reserving me for a far higher task than to carry a message to Grouchy--a +task which could not have been mine had I not been held tight in that +little inn on the edge of the Forest of Paris. + +Two Prussian corps had passed and a third was coming up, when I heard +a great fuss and the sound of several voices in the sitting-room. By +altering my position I was able to look down and see what was going on. + +Two Prussian generals were beneath me, their heads bent over a map which +lay upon the table. Several aides-de-camp and staff officers stood round +in silence. Of the two generals, one was a fierce old man, white-haired +and wrinkled, with a ragged, grizzled moustache and a voice like the +bark of a hound. The other was younger, but long-faced and solemn. He +measured distances upon the map with the air of a student, while his +companion stamped and fumed and cursed like a corporal of Hussars. It +was strange to see the old man so fiery and the young one so reserved. I +could not understand all that they said, but I was very sure about their +general meaning. + +“I tell you we must push on and ever on!” cried the old fellow, with a +furious German oath. “I promised Wellington that I would be there with +the whole army even if I had to be strapped to my horse. Bulow's corps +is in action, and Ziethen's shall support it with every man and gun. +Forward, Gneisenau, forward!” + +The other shook his head. + +“You must remember, your Excellency, that if the English are beaten they +will make for the coast. What will your position be then, with Grouchy +between you and the Rhine?” + +“We shall beat them, Gneisenau; the Duke and I will grind them to powder +between us. Push on, I say! The whole war will be ended in one blow. +Bring Pirsch up, and we can throw sixty thousand men into the scale +while Thielmann holds Grouchy beyond Wavre.” + +Gneisenau shrugged his shoulders, but at that instant an orderly +appeared at the door. + +“An aide-de-camp from the Duke of Wellington,” said he. + +“Ha, ha!” cried the old man; “let us hear what he has to say!” + +An English officer, with mud and blood all over his scarlet jacket, +staggered into the room. A crimson-stained handkerchief was knotted +round his arm, and he held the table to keep himself from falling. + +“My message is to Marshal Blucher,” said he; + +“I am Marshal Blucher. Go on! go on!” cried the impatient old man. + +“The Duke bade me to tell you, sir, that the British Army can hold its +own and that he has no fears for the result. The French cavalry has been +destroyed, two of their divisions of infantry have ceased to exist, +and only the Guard is in reserve. If you give us a vigorous support the +defeat will be changed to absolute rout and--” His knees gave way under +him and he fell in a heap upon the floor. + +“Enough! enough!” cried Blucher. “Gneisenau, send an aide-de-camp to +Wellington and tell him to rely upon me to the full. Come on, gentlemen, +we have our work to do!” He bustled eagerly out of the room with all +his staff clanking behind him, while two orderlies carried the English +messenger to the care of the surgeon. + +Gneisenau, the Chief of the Staff, had lingered behind for an instant, +and he laid his hand upon one of the aides-de-camp. The fellow had +attracted my attention, for I have always a quick eye for a fine man. +He was tall and slender, the very model of a horseman; indeed, there was +something in his appearance which made it not unlike my own. His face +was dark and as keen as that of a hawk, with fierce black eyes under +thick, shaggy brows, and a moustache which would have put him in the +crack squadron of my Hussars. He wore a green coat with white facings, +and a horse-hair helmet--a Dragoon, as I conjectured, and as dashing a +cavalier as one would wish to have at the end of one's sword-point. + +“A word with you, Count Stein,” said Gneisenau. “If the enemy are +routed, but if the Emperor escapes, he will rally another army, and all +will have to be done again. But if we can get the Emperor, then the war +is indeed ended. It is worth a great effort and a great risk for such an +object as that.” + +The young Dragoon said nothing, but he listened attentively. + +“Suppose the Duke of Wellington's words should prove to be correct, +and the French army should be driven in utter rout from the field, the +Emperor will certainly take the road back through Genappe and Charleroi +as being the shortest to the frontier. We can imagine that his horses +will be fleet, and that the fugitives will make way for him. Our cavalry +will follow the rear of the beaten army, but the Emperor will be far +away at the front of the throng.” + +The young Dragoon inclined his head. + +“To you, Count Stein, I commit the Emperor. If you take him your name +will live in history. You have the reputation of being the hardest rider +in our army. Do you choose such comrades as you may select--ten or a +dozen should be enough. You are not to engage in the battle, nor are you +to follow the general pursuit, but you are to ride clear of the crowd, +reserving your energies for a nobler end. Do you understand me?” + +Again the Dragoon inclined his head. This silence impressed me. I felt +that he was indeed a dangerous man. + +“Then I leave the details in your own hands. Strike at no one except the +highest. You cannot mistake the Imperial carriage, nor can you fail to +recognise the figure of the Emperor. Now I must follow the Marshal. +Adieu! If ever I see you again I trust that it will be to congratulate +you upon a deed which will ring through Europe.” + +The Dragoon saluted and Gneisenau hurried from the room. The young +officer stood in deep thought for a few moments. Then he followed the +Chief of the Staff. + +I looked with curiosity from my loophole to see what his next proceeding +would be. His horse, a fine, strong chestnut with two white stockings, +was fastened to the rail of the inn. He sprang into the saddle, and, +riding to intercept a column of cavalry which was passing, he spoke to +an officer at the head of the leading regiment. + +Presently after some talk I saw two Hussars--it was a Hussar +regiment--drop out of the ranks and take up their position beside Count +Stein. The next regiment was also stopped, and two Lancers were added to +his escort. The next furnished him with two Dragoons and the next with +two Cuirassiers. Then he drew his little group of horsemen aside and he +gathered them round him, explaining to them what they had to do. Finally +the nine soldiers rode off together and disappeared into the Wood of +Paris. + +I need not tell you, my friends, what all this portended. + +Indeed, he had acted exactly as I should have done in his place. From +each colonel he had demanded the two best horsemen in the regiment, +and so he had assembled a band who might expect to catch whatever they +should follow. Heaven help the Emperor if, without an escort, he should +find them on his track! + +And I, dear friends--imagine the fever, the ferment, the madness of my +mind! All thought of Grouchy had passed away. No guns were to be heard +to the east. He could not be near. If he should come up he would not now +be in time to alter the event of the day. The sun was already low in the +sky and there could not be more than two or three hours of daylight. +My mission might be dismissed as useless. But here was another mission, +more pressing, more immediate, a mission which meant the safety, and +perhaps the life, of the Emperor. At all costs, through every danger, I +must get back to his side. + +But how was I to do it? The whole Prussian army was now between me and +the French lines. They blocked every road, but they could not block the +path of duty when Etienne Gerard sees it lie before him. I could not +wait longer. I must be gone. + +There was but the one opening to the loft, and so it was only down the +ladder that I could descend. I looked into the kitchen and I found that +the young surgeon was still there. In a chair sat the wounded English +aide-de-camp, and on the straw lay two Prussian soldiers in the last +stage of exhaustion. The others had all recovered and been sent on. +These were my enemies, and I must pass through them in order to gain +my horse. From the surgeon I had nothing to fear; the Englishman was +wounded, and his sword stood with his cloak in a corner; the two Germans +were half insensible, and their muskets were not beside them. What +could be simpler? I opened the trap-door, slipped down the ladder, and +appeared in the midst of them, my sword drawn in my hand. + +What a picture of surprise! The surgeon, of course, knew all, but to the +Englishman and the two Germans it must have seemed that the god of war +in person had descended from the skies. With my appearance, with my +figure, with my silver and grey uniform, and with that gleaming sword in +my hand, I must indeed have been a sight worth seeing. The two Germans +lay petrified with staring eyes. The English officer half rose, but sat +down again from weakness, his mouth open and his hand on the back of his +chair. + +“What the deuce!” he kept on repeating, “what the deuce!” + +“Pray do not move,” said I; “I will hurt no one, but woe to the man who +lays hands upon me to stop me. You have nothing to fear if you leave me +alone, and nothing to hope if you try to hinder me. I am Colonel Etienne +Gerard, of the Hussars of Conflans.” + +“The deuce!” said the Englishman. “You are the man that killed the fox.” + A terrible scowl had darkened his face. The jealousy of sportsmen is a +base passion. He hated me, this Englishman, because I had been before +him in transfixing the animal. How different are our natures! Had I +seen him do such a deed I would have embraced him with cries of joy. But +there was no time for argument. + +“I regret it, sir,” said I; “but you have a cloak here and I must take +it.” + +He tried to rise from his chair and reach his sword, but I got between +him and the corner where it lay. + +“If there is anything in the pockets----” + +“A case,” said he. + +“I would not rob you,” said I; and raising the cloak I took from the +pockets a silver flask, a square wooden case and a field-glass. All +these I handed to him. The wretch opened the case, took out a pistol, +and pointed it straight at my head. + +“Now, my fine fellow,” said he, “put down your sword and give yourself +up.” + +I was so astounded at this infamous action that I stood petrified before +him. I tried to speak to him of honour and gratitude, but I saw his eyes +fix and harden over the pistol. + +“Enough talk!” said he. “Drop it!” + +Could I endure such a humiliation? Death were better than to be disarmed +in such a fashion. The word + +“Fire!” was on my lips when in an instant the English man vanished +from before my face, and in his place was a great pile of hay, with a +red-coated arm and two Hessian boots waving and kicking in the heart of +it. Oh, the gallant landlady! It was my whiskers that had saved me. + +“Fly, soldier, fly!” she cried, and she heaped fresh trusses of hay from +the floor on to the struggling Englishman. In an instant I was out in +the courtyard, had led Violette from her stable, and was on her back. +A pistol bullet whizzed past my shoulder from the window, and I saw a +furious face looking out at me. I smiled my contempt and spurred out +into the road. The last of the Prussians had passed, and both my road +and my duty lay clear before me. If France won, all well. If France +lost, then on me and my little mare depended that which was more than +victory or defeat--the safety and the life of the Emperor. “On, Etienne, +on!” I cried. + +“Of all your noble exploits, the greatest, even if it be the last, lies +now before you!” + + +II. THE STORY OF THE NINE PRUSSIAN HORSEMEN + +I told you when last we met, my friends, of the important mission from +the Emperor to Marshal Grouchy, which failed through no fault of my own, +and I described to you how during a long afternoon I was shut up in the +attic of a country inn, and was prevented from coming out because the +Prussians were all around me. You will remember also how I overheard the +Chief of the Prussian Staff give his instructions to Count Stein, and +so learned the dangerous plan which was on foot to kill or capture +the Emperor in the event of a French defeat. At first I could not have +believed in such a thing, but since the guns had thundered all day, and +since the sound had made no advance in my direction, it was evident that +the English had at least held their own and beaten off all our attacks. + +I have said that it was a fight that day between the soul of France and +the beef of England, but it must be confessed that we found the beef +was very tough. It was clear that if the Emperor could not defeat the +English when alone, then it might, indeed, go hard with him now that +sixty thousand of these cursed Prussians were swarming on his flank. In +any case, with this secret in my possession, my place was by his side. + +I had made my way out of the inn in the dashing manner which I have +described to you when last we met, and I left the English aide-de-camp +shaking his foolish fist out of the window. I could not but laugh as I +looked back at him, for his angry red face was framed and frilled with +hay. Once out on the road I stood erect in my stirrups, and I put on the +handsome black riding-coat, lined with red, which had belonged to him. +It fell to the top of my high boots, and covered my tell-tale uniform +completely. As to my busby, there are many such in the German service, +and there was no reason why it should attract attention. So long as no +one spoke to me there was no reason why I should not ride through the +whole of the Prussian army; but though I understood German, for I had +many friends among the German ladies during the pleasant years that I +fought all over that country, still I spoke it with a pretty Parisian +accent which could not be confounded with their rough, unmusical speech. +I knew that this quality of my accent would attract attention, but +I could only hope and pray that I would be permitted to go my way in +silence. + +The Forest of Paris was so large that it was useless to think of going +round it, and so I took my courage in both hands and galloped on down +the road in the track of the Prussian army. It was not hard to trace it, +for it was rutted two feet deep by the gun-wheels and the caissons. Soon +I found a fringe of wounded men, Prussians and French, on each side of +it, where Bulow's advance had come into touch with Marbot's Hussars. One +old man with a long white beard, a surgeon, I suppose, shouted at me, +and ran after me still shouting, but I never turned my head and took no +notice of him save to spur on faster. I heard his shouts long after I +had lost sight of him among the trees. + +Presently I came up with the Prussian reserves. The infantry were +leaning on their muskets or lying exhausted on the wet ground, and the +officers stood in groups listening to the mighty roar of the battle and +discussing the reports which came from the front. I hurried past at the +top of my speed, but one of them rushed out and stood in my path with +his hand up as a signal to me to stop. Five thousand Prussian eyes were +turned upon me. There was a moment! You turn pale, my friends, at the +thought of it. Think how every hair upon me stood on end. But never for +one instant did my wits or my courage desert me. “General Blucher!” I +cried. Was it not my guardian angel who whispered the words in my ear? +The Prussian sprang from my path, saluted, and pointed forward. They are +well disciplined, these Prussians, and who was he that he should dare to +stop the officer who bore a message to the general? + +It was a talisman that would pass me out of every danger, and my heart +sang within me at the thought. So elated was I that I no longer waited +to be asked, but as I rode through the army I shouted to right and left, + +“General Blucher! General Blucher!” and every man pointed me onward and +cleared a path to let me pass. + +There are times when the most supreme impudence is the highest wisdom. +But discretion must also be used, and I must admit that I became +indiscreet. For as I rode upon my way, ever nearer to the fighting line, +a Prussian officer of Uhlans gripped my bridle and pointed to a group +of men who stood near a burning farm. “There is Marshal Blucher. Deliver +your message!” said he, and sure enough, my terrible old grey-whiskered +veteran was there within a pistol-shot, his eyes turned in my direction. + +But the good guardian angel did not desert me. + +Quick as a flash there came into my memory the name of the general who +commanded the advance of the Prussians. + + +{illust. caption = “There is Marshal Blucher. Deliver your message!”} + + +“General Bulow!” I cried. The Uhlan let go my bridle. “General Bulow! +General Bulow!” I shouted, as every stride of the dear little mare took +me nearer my own people. Through the burning village of Planchenoit +I galloped, spurred my way between two columns of Prussian infantry, +sprang over a hedge, cut down a Silesian Hussar who flung himself before +me, and an instant afterward, with my coat flying open to show the +uniform below, I passed through the open files of the tenth of the line, +and was back in the heart of Lobau's corps once more. Outnumbered and +outflanked, they were being slowly driven in by the pressure of the +Prussian advance. I galloped onward, anxious only to find myself by the +Emperor's side. + +But a sight lay before me which held me fast as though I had been turned +into some noble equestrian statue. I could not move, I could scarce +breathe, as I gazed upon it. There was a mound over which my path lay, +and as I came out on the top of it I looked down the long, shallow +valley of Waterloo. I had left it with two great armies on either side +and a clear field between them. Now there were but long, ragged fringes +of broken and exhausted regiments upon the two ridges, but a real army +of dead and wounded lay between. For two miles in length and half a mile +across the ground was strewed and heaped with them. But slaughter was +no new sight to me, and it was not that which held me spellbound. It +was that up the long slope of the British position was moving a walking +forest--black, tossing, waving, unbroken. Did I not know the bearskins of +the Guard? And did I not also know, did not my soldier's instinct tell +me, that it was the last reserve of France; that the Emperor, like a +desperate gamester, was staking all upon his last card? Up they went +and up--grand, solid, unbreakable, scourged with musketry, riddled with +grape, flowing onward in a black, heavy tide, which lapped over the +British batteries. With my glass I could see the English gunners throw +themselves under their pieces or run to the rear. On rolled the crest of +the bearskins, and then, with a crash which was swept across to my +ears, they met the British infantry. A minute passed, and another, and +another. My heart was in my mouth. + +They swayed back and forward; they no longer advanced; they were held. +Great Heaven! was it possible that they were breaking? One black dot ran +down the hill, then two, then four, then ten, then a great, scattered, +struggling mass, halting, breaking, halting, and at last shredding out +and rushing madly downward. “The Guard is beaten! The Guard is beaten!” + From all around me I heard the cry. Along the whole line the infantry +turned their faces and the gunners flinched from their guns. + +“The Old Guard is beaten! The Guard retreats!” An officer with a livid +face passed me yelling out these words of woe. “Save yourselves! Save +yourselves! You are betrayed!” cried another. “Save yourselves! Save +yourselves!” Men were rushing madly to the rear, blundering and jumping +like frightened sheep. Cries and screams rose from all around me. And at +that moment, as I looked at the British position, I saw what I can +never forget. A single horseman stood out black and clear upon the +ridge against the last red angry glow of the setting sun. So dark, so +motionless, against that grim light, he might have been the very spirit +of Battle brooding over that terrible valley. As I gazed, he raised his +hat high in the air, and at the signal, with a low, deep roar like a +breaking wave, the whole British army flooded over their ridge and came +rolling down into the valley. + +Long steel-fringed lines of red and blue, sweeping waves of cavalry, +horse batteries rattling and bounding--down they came on to our +crumbling ranks. It was over. A yell of agony, the agony of brave men +who see no hope, rose from one flank to the other, and in an instant the +whole of that noble army was swept in a wild, terror-stricken crowd from +the field. Even now, dear friends, I cannot, as you see, speak of that +dreadful moment with a dry eye or with a steady voice. + +At first I was carried away in that wild rush, whirled off like a straw +in a flooded gutter. But, suddenly, what should I see amongst the mixed +regiments in front of me but a group of stern horsemen, in silver and +grey, with a broken and tattered standard held aloft in the heart +of them! Not all the might of England and of Prussia could break the +Hussars of Conflans. But when I joined them it made my heart bleed to +see them. The major, seven captains, and five hundred men were left upon +the field. Young Captain Sabbatier was in command, and when I asked him +where were the five missing squadrons he pointed back and answered: “You +will find them round one of those British squares.” Men and horses +were at their last gasp, caked with sweat and dirt, their black tongues +hanging out from their lips; but it made me thrill with pride to see how +that shattered remnant still rode knee to knee, with every man, from the +boy trumpeter to the farrier-sergeant, in his own proper place. + +Would that I could have brought them on with me as an escort for the +Emperor! In the heart of the Hussars of Conflans he would be safe +indeed. But the horses were too spent to trot. I left them behind me +with orders to rally upon the farm-house of St. Aunay, where we had +camped two nights before. For my own part, I forced my horse through the +throng in search of the Emperor. + +There were things which I saw then, as I pressed through that dreadful +crowd, which can never be banished from my mind. In evil dreams there +comes back to me the memory of that flowing stream of livid, staring, +screaming faces upon which I looked down. It was a nightmare. In victory +one does not understand the horror of war. It is only in the cold chill +of defeat that it is brought home to you. I remember an old Grenadier of +the Guard lying at the side of the road with his broken leg doubled at +a right angle. “Comrades, comrades, keep off my leg!” he cried, but they +tripped and stumbled over him all the same. In front of me rode a +Lancer officer without his coat. His arm had just been taken off in the +ambulance. The bandages had fallen. It was horrible. Two gunners tried +to drive through with their gun. A Chasseur raised his musket and shot +one of them through the head. I saw a major of Cuirassiers draw his two +holster pistols and shoot first his horse and then himself. Beside the +road a man in a blue coat was raging and raving like a madman. His face +was black with powder, his clothes were torn, one epaulette was gone, +the other hung dangling over his breast. Only when I came close to him +did I recognise that it was Marshal Ney. He howled at the flying +troops and his voice was hardly human. Then he raised the stump of his +sword--it was broken three inches from the hilt. “Come and see how a +Marshal of France can die!” he cried. Gladly would I have gone with him, +but my duty lay elsewhere. + +He did not, as you know, find the death he sought, but he met it a few +weeks later in cold blood at the hands of his enemies. + +There is an old proverb that in attack the French are more than men, in +defeat they are less than women. I knew that it was true that day. But +even in that rout I saw things which I can tell with pride. Through the +fields which skirt the road moved Cambronne's three reserve battalions +of the Guard, the cream of our army. + +They walked slowly in square, their colours waving over the sombre line +of the bearskins. All round them raged the English cavalry and the black +Lancers of Brunswick, wave after wave thundering up, breaking with a +crash, and recoiling in ruin. When last I saw them, the English guns, +six at a time, were smashing grape-shot through their ranks and the +English infantry were closing in upon three sides and pouring volleys +into them; but still, like a noble lion with fierce hounds clinging to +its flanks, the glorious remnant of the Guard, marching slowly, halting, +closing up, dressing, moved majestically from their last battle. Behind +them the Guard's battery of twelve-pounders was drawn up upon the ridge. +Every gunner was in his place, but no gun fired. “Why do you not fire?” + I asked the colonel as I passed. “Our powder is finished.” “Then why not +retire?” “Our appearance may hold them back for a little. We must give +the Emperor time to escape.” Such were the soldiers of France. + +Behind this screen of brave men the others took their breath, and then +went on in less desperate fashion. They had broken away from the road, +and all over the countryside in the twilight I could see the timid, +scattered, frightened crowd who ten hours before had formed the finest +army that ever went down to battle. I with my splendid mare was soon +able to get clear of the throng, and just after I passed Genappe I +overtook the Emperor with the remains of his Staff. Soult was with him +still, and so were Drouot, Lobau, and Bertrand, with five Chasseurs of +the Guard, their horses hardly able to move. + +The night was falling, and the Emperor's haggard face gleamed white +through the gloom as he turned it toward me. + +“Who is that?” he asked. + +“It is Colonel Gerard,” said Soult. + +“Have you seen Marshal Grouchy?” + +“No, Sire. The Prussians were between.” + +“It does not matter. Nothing matters now. Soult, I will go back.” + +He tried to turn his horse, but Bertrand seized his bridle. “Ah, Sire,” + said Soult, “the enemy has had good fortune enough already.” They forced +him on among them. He rode in silence with his chin upon his breast, the +greatest and the saddest of men. Far away behind us those remorseless +guns were still roaring. Sometimes out of the darkness would come +shrieks and screams and the low thunder of galloping hoofs. At the sound +we would spur our horses and hasten onward through the scattered troops. +At last, after riding all night in the clear moonlight, we found that +we had left both pursued and pursuers behind. By the time we passed +over the bridge at Charleroi the dawn was breaking. What a company of +spectres we looked in that cold, clear, searching light, the Emperor +with his face of wax, Soult blotched with powder, Lobau dabbled with +blood! But we rode more easily now, and had ceased to glance over our +shoulders, for Waterloo was more than thirty miles behind us. One of the +Emperor's carriages had been picked up at Charleroi, and we halted now +on the other side of the Sambre, and dismounted from our horses. + +You will ask me why it was that during all this time I had said nothing +of that which was nearest my heart, the need for guarding the Emperor. +As a fact, I had tried to speak of it both to Soult and to Lobau, but +their minds were so overwhelmed with the disaster and so distracted by +the pressing needs of the moment that it was impossible to make them +understand how urgent was my message. Besides, during this long flight +we had always had numbers of French fugitives beside us on the road, +and, however demoralised they might be, we had nothing to fear from the +attack of nine men. But now, as we stood round the Emperor's carriage +in the early morning, I observed with anxiety that not a single French +soldier was to be seen upon the long, white road behind us. We had +outstripped the army. I looked round to see what means of defence were +left to us. The horses of the Chasseurs of the Guard had broken down, +and only one of them, a grey-whiskered sergeant, remained. + +There were Soult, Lobau, and Bertrand; but, for all their talents, +I had rather, when it came to hard knocks, have a single +quartermaster-sergeant of Hussars at my side than the three of them put +together. There remained the Emperor himself, the coachman, and a valet +of the household who had joined us at Charleroi--eight all told; but of +the eight only two, the Chasseur and I, were fighting soldiers who could +be depended upon at a pinch. A chill came over me as I reflected how +utterly helpless we were. At that moment I raised my eyes, and there +were the nine Prussian horsemen coming over the hill. + +On either side of the road at this point are long stretches of rolling +plain, part of it yellow with corn and part of it rich grass land +watered by the Sambre. To the south of us was a low ridge, over which +was the road to France. Along this road the little group of cavalry +was riding. So well had Count Stein obeyed his instructions that he had +struck far to the south of us in his determination to get ahead of +the Emperor. Now he was riding from the direction in which we were +going--the last in which we could expect an enemy. When I caught that +first glimpse of them they were still half a mile away. + +“Sire!” I cried, “the Prussians!” + +They all started and stared. It was the Emperor who broke the silence. + +“Who says they are Prussians?” + +“I do, Sire--I, Etienne Gerard!” + +Unpleasant news always made the Emperor furious against the man who +broke it. He railed at me now in the rasping, croaking, Corsican voice +which only made itself heard when he had lost his self-control. + +“You were always a buffoon,” he cried. “What do you mean, you numskull, +by saying that they are Prussians? How could Prussians be coming from +the direction of France? You have lost any wits that you ever +possessed.” + +His words cut me like a whip, and yet we all felt toward the Emperor as +an old dog does to its master. + +His kick is soon forgotten and forgiven. I would not argue or justify +myself. At the first glance I had seen the two white stockings on the +forelegs of the leading horse, and I knew well that Count Stein was on +its back. + +For an instant the nine horsemen had halted and surveyed us. Now they +put spurs to their horses, and with a yell of triumph they galloped down +the road. They had recognised that their prey was in their power. + +At that swift advance all doubt had vanished. “By heavens, Sire, it is +indeed the Prussians!” cried Soult. + +Lobau and Bertrand ran about the road like two frightened hens. The +sergeant of Chasseurs drew his sabre with a volley of curses. The +coachman and the valet cried and wrung their hands. Napoleon stood +with a frozen face, one foot on the step of the carriage. And I--ah, my +friends, I was magnificent! What words can I use to do justice to my own +bearing at that supreme instant of my life? So coldly alert, so deadly +cool, so clear in brain and ready in hand. He had called me a numskull +and a buffoon. How quick and how noble was my revenge! When his own wits +failed him, it was Etienne Gerard who supplied the want. + +To fight was absurd; to fly was ridiculous. The Emperor was stout, and +weary to death. At the best he was never a good rider. How could he fly +from these, the picked men of an army? The best horseman in Prussia was +among them. But I was the best horseman in France. I, and only I, +could hold my own with them. If they were on my track instead of the +Emperor's, all might still be well. These were the thoughts which +flashed so swiftly through my mind that in an instant I had sprung from +the first idea to the final conclusion. Another instant carried me from +the final conclusion to prompt and vigorous action. I rushed to the side +of the Emperor, who stood petrified, with the carriage between him and +our enemies. “Your coat, Sire! your hat!” I cried. I dragged them off +him. + +Never had he been so hustled in his life. In an instant I had them on +and had thrust him into the carriage. The next I had sprung on to his +famous white Arab and had ridden clear of the group upon the road. + +You have already divined my plan; but you may well ask how could I hope +to pass myself off as the Emperor. + +My figure is as you still see it, and his was never beautiful, for he +was both short and stout. But a man's height is not remarked when he is +in the saddle, and for the rest one had but to sit forward on the horse +and round one's back and carry oneself like a sack of flour. I wore the +little cocked hat and the loose grey coat with the silver star which was +known to every child from one end of Europe to the other. Beneath me was +the Emperor's own famous white charger. It was complete. + +Already as I rode clear the Prussians were within two hundred yards of +us. I made a gesture of terror and despair with my hands, and I sprang +my horse over the bank which lined the road. It was enough. A yell of +exultation and of furious hatred broke from the Prussians. + +It was the howl of starving wolves who scent their prey. I spurred my +horse over the meadow-land and looked back under my arm as I rode. Oh, +the glorious moment when one after the other I saw eight horsemen come +over the bank at my heels! Only one had stayed behind, and I heard +shouting and the sounds of a struggle. I remembered my old sergeant of +Chasseurs, and I was sure that number nine would trouble us no more. The +road was clear and the Emperor free to continue his journey. + +But now I had to think of myself. If I were overtaken the Prussians +would certainly make short work of me in their disappointment. If it +were so--if I lost my life--I should still have sold it at a glorious +price. But I had hopes that I might shake them off. With ordinary +horsemen upon ordinary horses I should have had no difficulty in doing +so, but here both steeds and riders were of the best. It was a grand +creature that I rode, but it was weary with its long night's work, and +the Emperor was one of those riders who do not know how to manage +a horse. He had little thought for them and a heavy hand upon their +mouths. On the other hand, Stein and his men had come both far and fast. +The race was a fair one. + +So quick had been my impulse, and so rapidly had I acted upon it, that +I had not thought enough of my own safety. Had I done so in the first +instance I should, of course, have ridden straight back the way we had +come, for so I should have met our own people. But I was off the road +and had galloped a mile over the plain before this occurred to me. Then +when I looked back I saw that the Prussians had spread out into a long +line, so as to head me off from the Charleroi road. I could not turn +back, but at least I could edge toward the north. I knew that the whole +face of the country was covered with our flying troops, and that sooner +or later I must come upon some of them. + +But one thing I had forgotten--the Sambre. In my excitement I never gave +it a thought until I saw it, deep and broad, gleaming in the morning +sunlight. It barred my path, and the Prussians howled behind me. I +galloped to the brink, but the horse refused the plunge. I spurred him, +but the bank was high and the stream deep. + +He shrank back trembling and snorting. The yells of triumph were louder +every instant. I turned and rode for my life down the river bank. +It formed a loop at this part, and I must get across somehow, for my +retreat was blocked. Suddenly a thrill of hope ran through me, for I saw +a house on my side of the stream and another on the farther bank. Where +there are two such houses it usually means that there is a ford between +them. A sloping path led to the brink and I urged my horse down it. On +he went, the water up to the saddle, the foam flying right and left. +He blundered once and I thought we were lost, but he recovered and an +instant later was clattering up the farther slope. As we came out I +heard the splash behind me as the first Prussian took the water. There +was just the breadth of the Sambre between us. + +I rode with my head sunk between my shoulders in Napoleon's fashion, and +I did not dare to look back for fear they should see my moustache. I had +turned up the collar of the grey coat so as partly to hide it. Even +now if they found out their mistake they might turn and overtake the +carriage. But when once we were on the road I could tell by the drumming +of their hoofs how far distant they were, and it seemed to me that the +sound grew perceptibly louder, as if they were slowly gaining upon me. +We were riding now up the stony and rutted lane which led from the ford. +I peeped back very cautiously from under my arm and I perceived that my +danger came from a single rider, who was far ahead of his comrades. + +He was a Hussar, a very tiny fellow, upon a big black horse, and it was +his light weight which had brought him into the foremost place. It is +a place of honour; but it is also a place of danger, as he was soon to +learn. I felt the holsters, but, to my horror, there were no pistols. +There was a field-glass in one and the other was stuffed with papers. My +sword had been left behind with Violette. + +Had I only my own weapons and my own little mare I could have played +with these rascals. But I was not entirely unarmed. The Emperor's own +sword hung to the saddle. It was curved and short, the hilt all crusted +with gold--a thing more fitted to glitter at a review than to serve a +soldier in his deadly need. I drew it, such as it was, and I waited my +chance. Every instant the clink and clatter of the hoofs grew nearer. +I heard the panting of the horse, and the fellow shouted some threat at +me. There was a turn in the lane, and as I rounded it I drew up my white +Arab on his haunches. As we spun round I met the Prussian Hussar face to +face. He was going too fast to stop, and his only chance was to ride me +down. Had he done so he might have met his own death, but he would have +injured me or my horse past all hope of escape. But the fool flinched as +he saw me waiting and flew past me on my right. I lunged over my Arab's +neck and buried my toy sword in his side. It must have been the finest +steel and as sharp as a razor, for I hardly felt it enter, and yet his +blood was within three inches of the hilt. His horse galloped on and he +kept his saddle for a hundred yards before he sank down with his face on +the mane and then dived over the side of the neck on to the road. For my +own part I was already at his horse's heels. A few seconds had sufficed +for all that I have told. + +I heard the cry of rage and vengeance which rose from the Prussians as +they passed their dead comrade, and I could not but smile as I wondered +what they could think of the Emperor as a horseman and a swordsman. I +glanced back cautiously as before, and I saw that none of the seven men +stopped. The fate of their comrade was nothing compared to the carrying +out of their mission. + +They were as untiring and as remorseless as bloodhounds. + +But I had a good lead and the brave Arab was still going well. I thought +that I was safe. And yet it was at that very instant that the most +terrible danger befell me. The lane divided, and I took the smaller of +the two divisions because it was the more grassy and the easier for the +horse's hoofs. Imagine my horror when, riding through a gate, I found +myself in a square of stables and farm-buildings, with no way out save +that by which I had come! Ah, my friends, if my hair is snowy white, +have I not had enough to make it so? + +To retreat was impossible. I could hear the thunder of the Prussians' +hoofs in the lane. I looked round me, and Nature has blessed me with +that quick eye which is the first of gifts to any soldier, but most of +all to a leader of cavalry. Between a long, low line of stables and the +farm-house there was a pig-sty. Its front was made of bars of wood four +feet high; the back was of stone, higher than the front. What was beyond +I could not tell. The space between the front and the back was not more +than a few yards. It was a desperate venture, and yet I must take it. +Every instant the beating of those hurrying hoofs was louder and louder. +I put my Arab at the pig-sty. She cleared the front beautifully and came +down with her forefeet upon the sleeping pig within, slipping forward +upon her knees. I was thrown over the wall beyond, and fell upon my +hands and face in a soft flower-bed. My horse was upon one side of the +wall, I upon the other, and the Prussians were pouring into the yard. +But I was up in an instant and had seized the bridle of the plunging +horse over the top of the wall. It was built of loose stones, and I +dragged down a few of them to make a gap. As I tugged at the bridle and +shouted the gallant creature rose to the leap, and an instant afterward +she was by my side and I with my foot on the stirrup. + +An heroic idea had entered my mind as I mounted into the saddle. These +Prussians, if they came over the pig-sty, could only come one at once, +and their attack would not be formidable when they had not had time to +recover from such a leap. Why should I not wait and kill them one by +one as they came over? It was a glorious thought. They would learn that +Etienne Gerard was not a safe man to hunt. My hand felt for my sword, +but you can imagine my feelings, my friends, when I came upon an empty +scabbard. It had been shaken out when the horse had tripped over that +infernal pig. On what absurd trifles do our destinies hang--a pig on one +side, Etienne Gerard on the other! Could I spring over the wall and get +the sword? Impossible! The Prussians were already in the yard. I turned +my Arab and resumed my flight. + +But for a moment it seemed to me that I was in a far worse trap than +before. I found myself in the garden of the farm-house, an orchard in +the centre and flower-beds all round. A high wall surrounded the whole +place. I reflected, however, that there must be some point of entrance, +since every visitor could not be expected to spring over the pig-sty. I +rode round the wall. As I expected, I came upon a door with a key upon +the inner side. I dismounted, unlocked it, opened it, and there was a +Prussian Lancer sitting his horse within six feet of me. + +For a moment we each stared at the other. Then I shut the door and +locked it again. A crash and a cry came from the other end of the +garden. I understood that one of my enemies had come to grief in trying +to get over the pig-sty. How could I ever get out of this cul-de-sac? +It was evident that some of the party had galloped round, while some had +followed straight upon my tracks. Had I my sword I might have beaten off +the Lancer at the door, but to come out now was to be butchered. And +yet if I waited some of them would certainly follow me on foot over the +pig-sty, and what could I do then? I must act at once or I was lost. But +it is at such moments that my wits are most active and my actions most +prompt. Still leading my horse, I ran for a hundred yards by the side +of the wall away from the spot where the Lancer was watching. There I +stopped, and with an effort I tumbled down several of the loose stones +from the top of the wall. The instant I had done so I hurried back to +the door. As I had expected, he thought I was making a gap for my escape +at that point, and I heard the thud of his horse's hoofs as he galloped +to cut me off. As I reached the gate I looked back, and I saw a +green-coated horseman, whom I knew to be Count Stein, clear the pig-sty +and gallop furiously with a shout of triumph across the garden. + +“Surrender, your Majesty, surrender!” he yelled; “we will give you +quarter!” I slipped through the gate, but had no time to lock it on +the other side. Stein was at my very heels, and the Lancer had already +turned his horse. Springing upon my Arab's back, I was off once more +with a clear stretch of grass land before me. Stein had to dismount to +open the gate, to lead his horse through, and to mount again before he +could follow. + +It was he that I feared rather than the Lancer, whose horse was +coarse-bred and weary. I galloped hard for a mile before I ventured to +look back, and then Stein was a musket-shot from me, and the Lancer +as much again, while only three of the others were in sight. My nine +Prussians were coming down to more manageable numbers, and yet one was +too much for an unarmed man. + +It had surprised me that during this long chase I had seen no fugitives +from the army, but I reflected that I was considerably to the west of +their line of flight, and that I must edge more toward the east if I +wished to join them. Unless I did so it was probable that my pursuers, +even if they could not overtake me themselves, would keep me in view +until I was headed off by some of their comrades coming from the +north. As I looked to the eastward I saw afar off a line of dust which +stretched for miles across the country. This was certainly the main road +along which our unhappy army was flying. But I soon had proof that +some of our stragglers had wandered into these side tracks, for I came +suddenly upon a horse grazing at the corner of a field, and beside +him, with his back against the bank, his master, a French Cuirassier, +terribly wounded and evidently on the point of death. I sprang down, +seized his long, heavy sword, and rode on with it. Never shall I forget +the poor man's face as he looked at me with his failing sight. He was an +old, grey-moustached soldier, one of the real fanatics, and to him this +last vision of his Emperor was like a revelation from on high. + +Astonishment, love, pride--all shone in his pallid face. He said +something--I fear they were his last words--but I had no time to listen, +and I galloped on my way. + +All this time I had been on the meadow-land, which was intersected in +this part by broad ditches. Some of them could not have been less than +from fourteen to fifteen feet, and my heart was in my mouth as I went at +each of them, for a slip would have been my ruin. + +But whoever selected the Emperor's horses had done his work well. The +creature, save when it balked on the bank of the Sambre, never failed me +for an instant. + +We cleared everything in one stride. And yet we could not shake off! +those infernal Prussians. As I left each water-course behind me I looked +back with renewed hope; but it was only to see Stein on his white-legged +chestnut flying over it as lightly as I had done myself. He was my +enemy, but I honoured him for the way in which he carried himself that +day. + +Again and again I measured the distance which separated him from the +next horseman. I had the idea that I might turn and cut him down, as +I had the Hussar, before his comrade could come to his help. But the +others had closed up and were not far behind. I reflected that this Stein +was probably as fine a swordsman as he was a rider, and that it might +take me some little time to get the better of him. In that case the +others would come to his aid and I should be lost. On the whole, it was +wiser to continue my flight. + +A road with poplars on either side ran across the plain from east to +west. It would lead me toward that long line of dust which marked the +French retreat. I wheeled my horse, therefore, and galloped down it. As +I rode I saw a single house in front of me upon the right, with a great +bush hung over the door to mark it as an inn. Outside there were several +peasants, but for them I cared nothing. What frightened me was to see +the gleam of a red coat, which showed that there were British in the +place. However, I could not turn and I could not stop, so there was +nothing for it but to gallop on and to take my chance. There were no +troops in sight, so these men must be stragglers or marauders, from whom +I had little to fear. As I approached I saw that there were two of them +sitting drinking on a bench outside the inn door. I saw them stagger to +their feet, and it was evident that they were both very drunk. One stood +swaying in the middle of the road. + +“It's Boney! So help me, it's Boney!” he yelled. He ran with his hands +out to catch me, but luckily for himself his drunken feet stumbled and +he fell on his face on the road. The other was more dangerous. He had +rushed into the inn, and just as I passed I saw him run out with his +musket in his hand. He dropped upon one knee, and I stooped forward over +my horse's neck. + +A single shot from a Prussian or an Austrian is a small matter, but +the British were at that time the best shots in Europe, and my drunkard +seemed steady enough when he had a gun at his shoulder. I heard the +crack, and my horse gave a convulsive spring which would have unseated +many a rider. For an instant I thought he was killed, but when I turned +in my saddle I saw a stream of blood running down the off hind-quarter. +I looked back at the Englishman, and the brute had bitten the end off +another cartridge and was ramming it into his musket, but before he had +it primed we were beyond his range. These men were foot-soldiers and +could not join in the chase, but I heard them whooping and tally-hoing +behind me as if I had been a fox. The peasants also shouted and ran +through the fields flourishing their sticks. From all sides I heard +cries, and everywhere were the rushing, waving figures of my pursuers. +To think of the great Emperor being chivvied over the country-side in +this fashion! It made me long to have these rascals within the sweep of +my sword. + +But now I felt that I was nearing the end of my course. I had done all +that a man could be expected to do--some would say more--but at last I +had come to a point from which I could see no escape. The horses of my +pursuers were exhausted, but mine was exhausted and wounded also. It was +losing blood fast, and we left a red trail upon the white, dusty road. +Already his pace was slackening, and sooner or later he must drop under +me. I looked back, and there were the five inevitable Prussians--Stein +a hundred yards in front, then a Lancer, and then three others riding +together. + +Stein had drawn his sword, and he waved it at me. For my own part I was +determined not to give myself up. + +I would try how many of these Prussians I could take with me into the +other world. At this supreme moment all the great deeds of my life rose +in a vision before me, and I felt that this, my last exploit, was indeed +a worthy close to such a career. My death would be a fatal blow to those +who loved me, to my dear mother, to my Hussars, to others who shall be +nameless. But all of them had my honour and my fame at heart, and I felt +that their grief would be tinged with pride when they learned how I had +ridden and how I had fought upon this last day. Therefore I hardened my +heart and, as my Arab limped more and more upon his wounded leg, I drew +the great sword which I had taken from the Cuirassier, and I set my +teeth for my supreme struggle. My hand was in the very act of tightening +the bridle, for I feared that if I delayed longer I might find myself on +foot fighting against five mounted men. + +At that instant my eye fell upon something which brought hope to my +heart and a shout of joy to my lips. + +From a grove of trees in front of me there projected the steeple of a +village church. But there could not be two steeples like that, for the +corner of it had crumbled away or been struck by lightning, so that it +was of a most fantastic shape. I had seen it only two days before, +and it was the church of the village of Gosselies. It was not the hope +of reaching the village which set my heart singing with joy, but it was +that I knew my ground now, and that farm-house not half a mile ahead, +with its gable end sticking out from amid the trees, must be that very +farm of St. Aunay where we had bivouacked, and which I had named to +Captain Sabbatier as the rendezvous of the Hussars of Conflans. There +they were, my little rascals, if I could but reach them. With every +bound my horse grew weaker. Each instant the sound of the pursuit grew +louder. I heard a gust of crackling German oaths at my very heels. A +pistol bullet sighed in my ears. Spurring frantically and beating my +poor Arab with the flat of my sword I kept him at the top of his speed. +The open gate of the farm-yard lay before me. I saw the twinkle of steel +within. Stein's horse's head was within ten yards of me as I thundered +through. + +“To me, comrades! To me!” I yelled. I heard a buzz as when the angry +bees swarm from their nest. Then my splendid white Arab fell dead under +me and I was hurled on to the cobble-stones of the yard, where I can +remember no more. + +Such was my last and most famous exploit, my dear friends, a story which +rang through Europe and has made the name of Etienne Gerard famous in +history. + +Alas! that all my efforts could only give the Emperor a few weeks more +liberty, since he surrendered upon the 15th of July to the English. But +it was not my fault that he was not able to collect the forces still +waiting for him in France, and to fight another Waterloo with a happier +ending. Had others been as loyal as I was the history of the world might +have been changed, the Emperor would have preserved his throne, and such +a soldier as I would not have been left to spend his life in planting +cabbages or to while away his old age telling stories in a cafe. You ask +me about the fate of Stein and the Prussian horsemen! Of the three +who dropped upon the way I know nothing. One you will remember that I +killed. There remained five, three of whom were cut down by my Hussars, +who, for the instant, were under the impression that it was indeed the +Emperor whom they were defending. Stein was taken, slightly wounded, and +so was one of the Uhlans. The truth was not told to them, for we thought +it best that no news, or false news, should get about as to where the +Emperor was, so that Count Stein still believed that he was within a few +yards of making that tremendous capture. “You may well love and honour +your Emperor,” said he, “for such a horseman and such a swordsman I have +never seen.” He could not understand why the young colonel of Hussars +laughed so heartily at his words--but he has learned since. + + + + +VIII. The Last Adventure of the Brigadier + +I will tell you no more stories, my dear friends. It is said that man is +like the hare, which runs in a circle and comes back to die at the point +from which it started. + +Gascony has been calling to me of late. I see the blue Garonne winding +among the vineyards and the bluer ocean toward which its waters sweep. +I see the old town also, and the bristle of masts from the side of the +long stone quay. My heart hungers for the breath of my native air and +the warm glow of my native sun. + +Here in Paris are my friends, my occupations, my pleasures. There all +who have known me are in their grave. And yet the southwest wind as +it rattles on my windows seems always to be the strong voice of the +motherland calling her child back to that bosom into which I am ready to +sink. I have played my part in my time. The time has passed. I must pass +also. + +Nay, dear friends, do not look sad, for what can be happier than a life +completed in honour and made beautiful with friendship and love? And +yet it is solemn also when a man approaches the end of the long road and +sees the turning which leads him into the unknown. But the Emperor and +all his Marshals have ridden round that dark turning and passed into +the beyond. My Hussars, too--there are not fifty men who are not waiting +yonder. I must go. But on this the last night I will tell you that which +is more than a tale--it is a great historical secret. My lips have +been sealed, but I see no reason why I should not leave behind me some +account of this remarkable adventure, which must otherwise be entirely +lost, since I and only I, of all living men, have a knowledge of the +facts. + +I will ask you to go back with me to the year 1821. + +In that year our great Emperor had been absent from us for six years, +and only now and then from over the seas we heard some whisper which +showed that he was still alive. You cannot think what a weight it was +upon our hearts for us who loved him to think of him in captivity eating +his giant soul out upon that lonely island. From the moment we rose +until we closed our eyes in sleep the thought was always with us, and we +felt dishonoured that he, our chief and master, should be so humiliated +without our being able to move a hand to help him. There were many who +would most willingly have laid down the remainder of their lives to +bring him a little ease, and yet all that we could do was to sit and +grumble in our cafes and stare at the map, counting up the leagues of +water which lay between us. + +It seemed that he might have been in the moon for all that we could do +to help him. But that was only because we were all soldiers and knew +nothing of the sea. + +Of course, we had our own little troubles to make us bitter, as well as +the wrongs of our Emperor. There were many of us who had held high rank +and would hold it again if he came back to his own. We had not found +it possible to take service under the white flag of the Bourbons, or to +take an oath which might turn our sabres against the man whom we loved. +So we found ourselves with neither work nor money. What could we do save +gather together and gossip and grumble, while those who had a little +paid the score and those who had nothing shared the bottle? Now and +then, if we were lucky, we managed to pick a quarrel with one of the +Garde du Corps, and if we left him on his hack in the Bois we felt that +we had struck a blow for Napoleon once again. They came to know our +haunts in time, and they avoided them as if they had been hornets' +nests. + +There was one of these--the Sign of the Great Man--in the Rue Varennes, +which was frequented by several of the more distinguished and +younger Napoleonic officers. Nearly all of us had been colonels or +aides-de-camp, and when any man of less distinction came among us we +generally made him feel that he had taken a liberty. There were Captain +Lepine, who had won the medal of honour at Leipzig; Colonel Bonnet, +aide-de-camp to Macdonald; Colonel Jourdan, whose fame in the army was +hardly second to my own; Sabbatier of my own Hussars, Meunier of the Red +Lancers, Le Breton of the Guards, and a dozen others. + +Every night we met and talked, played dominoes, drank a glass or two, +and wondered how long it would be before the Emperor would be back and +we at the head of our regiments once more. The Bourbons had already +lost any hold they ever had upon the country, as was shown a few years +afterward, when Paris rose against them and they were hunted for the +third time out of France. Napoleon had but to show himself on the +coast, and he would have marched without firing a musket to the capital, +exactly as he had done when he came back from Elba. + +Well, when affairs were in this state there arrived one night in +February, in our cafe, a most singular little man. He was short +but exceedingly broad, with huge shoulders, and a head which was a +deformity, so large was it. His heavy brown face was scarred with white +streaks in a most extraordinary manner, and he had grizzled whiskers +such as seamen wear. Two gold earrings in his ears, and plentiful +tattooing upon his hands and arms, told us also that he was of the sea +before he introduced himself to us as Captain Fourneau, of the Emperor's +navy. He had letters of introduction to two of our number, and there +could be no doubt that he was devoted to the cause. He won our respect, +too, for he had seen as much fighting as any of us, and the burns upon +his face were caused by his standing to his post upon the Orient, at +the Battle of the Nile, until the vessel blew up underneath him. Yet +he would say little about himself, but he sat in the corner of the cafe +watching us all with a wonderfully sharp pair of eyes and listening +intently to our talk. + +One night I was leaving the cafe when Captain Fourneau followed me, and +touching me on the arm he led me without saying a word for some distance +until we reached his lodgings. “I wish to have a chat with you,” said +he, and so conducted me up the stair to his room. There he lit a lamp +and handed me a sheet of paper which he took from an envelope in his +bureau. It was dated a few months before from the Palace of Schonbrunn +at Vienna. “Captain Fourneau is acting in the highest interests of the +Emperor Napoleon. Those who love the Emperor should obey him without +question.--Marie Louise.” That is what I read. I was familiar with the +signature of the Empress, and I could not doubt that this was genuine. + +“Well,” said he, “are you satisfied as to my credentials?” + +“Entirely.” + +“Are you prepared to take your orders from me?” + +“This document leaves me no choice.” + +“Good! In the first place, I understand from something you said in the +cafe that you can speak English?” + +“Yes, I can.” + +“Let me hear you do so.” + +I said in English, “Whenever the Emperor needs the help of Etienne +Gerard I am ready night and day to give my life in his service.” Captain +Fourneau smiled. + +“It is funny English,” said he, “but still it is better than no English. +For my own part I speak English like an Englishman. It is all that I +have to show for six years spent in an English prison. Now I will tell +you why I have come to Paris. I have come in order to choose an agent +who will help me in a matter which affects the interests of the Emperor. +I was told that it was at the cafe of the Great Man that I would find +the pick of his old officers, and that I could rely upon every man there +being devoted to his interests. I studied you all, therefore, and I have +come to the conclusion that you are the one who is most suited for my +purpose.” + +I acknowledged the compliment. “What is it that you wish me to do?” I +asked. + +“Merely to keep me company for a few months,” said he. “You must know +that after my release in England I settled down there, married an +English wife, and rose to command a small English merchant ship, in +which I have made several voyages from Southampton to the Guinea coast. +They look on me there as an Englishman. You can understand, however, +that with my feelings about the Emperor I am lonely sometimes, and that +it would be an advantage to me to have a companion who would sympathize +with my thoughts. One gets very bored on these long voyages, and I would +make it worth your while to share my cabin.” + +He looked hard at me with his shrewd grey eyes all the time that he was +uttering this rigmarole, and I gave him a glance in return which showed +him that he was not dealing with a fool. He took out a canvas bag full +of money. + +“There are a hundred pounds in gold in this bag,” said he. “You will be +able to buy some comforts for your voyage. I should recommend you to get +them in Southampton, whence we will start in ten days. The name of the +vessel is the Black Swan. I return to Southampton to-morrow, and I shall +hope to see you in the course of the next week.” + +“Come now,” said I. “Tell me frankly what is the destination of our +voyage?” + +“Oh, didn't I tell you?” he answered. “We are bound for the Guinea coast +of Africa.” + +“Then how can that be in the highest interests of the Emperor?” I asked. + +“It is in his highest interests that you ask no indiscreet questions and +I give no indiscreet replies,” he answered, sharply. So he brought the +interview to an end, and I found myself back in my lodgings with nothing +save this bag of gold to show that this singular interview had indeed +taken place. + +There was every reason why I should see the adventure to a conclusion, +and so within a week I was on my way to England. I passed from St. +Malo to Southampton, and on inquiry at the docks I had no difficulty in +finding the Black Swan, a neat little vessel of a shape which is called, +as I learned afterward, a brig. There was Captain Fourneau himself upon +the deck, and seven or eight rough fellows hard at work grooming her and +making her ready for sea. He greeted me and led me down to his cabin. + +“You are plain Mr. Gerard now,” said he, “and a Channel Islander. I +would be obliged to you if you would kindly forget your military ways +and drop your cavalry swagger when you walk up and down my deck. +A beard, too, would seem more sailor-like than those moustaches.” + +I was horrified by his words, but, after all, there are no ladies on the +high seas, and what did it matter? He rang for the steward. + +“Gustav,” said he, “you will pay every attention to my friend, Monsieur +Etienne Gerard, who makes this voyage with us. This is Gustav Kerouan, +my Breton steward,” he explained, “and you are very safe in his hands.” + +This steward, with his harsh face and stern eyes, looked a very warlike +person for so peaceful an employment. + +I said nothing, however, though you may guess that I kept my eyes open. +A berth had been prepared for me next the cabin, which would have +seemed comfortable enough had it not contrasted with the extraordinary +splendour of Fourneau's quarters. He was certainly a most luxurious +person, for his room was new-fitted with velvet and silver in a way +which would have suited the yacht of a noble better than a little West +African trader. + +So thought the mate, Mr. Burns, who could not hide his amusement and +contempt whenever he looked at it. + +This fellow, a big, solid, red-headed Englishman, had the other berth +connected with the cabin. There was a second mate named Turner, who +lodged in the middle of the ship, and there were nine men and one boy +in the crew, three of whom, as I was informed by Mr. Burns, were Channel +Islanders like myself. This Burns, the first mate, was much interested +to know why I was coming with them. + +“I come for pleasure,” said I. + +He stared at me. + +“Ever been to the West Coast?” he asked. + +I said that I had not. + +“I thought not,” said he. “You'll never come again for that reason, +anyhow.” + +Some three days after my arrival we untied the ropes by which the ship +was tethered and we set off upon our journey. I was never a good sailor, +and I may confess that we were far out of sight of any land before I was +able to venture upon deck. At last, however, upon the fifth day I drank +the soup which the good Kerouan brought me, and I was able to crawl from +my bunk and up the stair. The fresh air revived me, and from that time +onward I accommodated myself to the motion of the vessel. My beard had +begun to grow also, and I have no doubt that I should have made as fine +a sailor as I have a soldier had I chanced to be born to that branch of +the service. I learned to pull the ropes which hoisted the sails, and +also to haul round the long sticks to which they are attached. For the +most part, however, my duties were to play ecarte with Captain Fourneau, +and to act as his companion. It was not strange that he should need one, +for neither of his mates could read or write, though each of them was an +excellent seaman. + +If our captain had died suddenly I cannot imagine how we should have +found our way in that waste of waters, for it was only he who had the +knowledge which enabled him to mark our place upon the chart. He had +this fixed upon the cabin wall, and every day he put our course upon it +so that we could see at a glance how far we were from our destination. +It was wonderful how well he could calculate it, for one morning he said +that we should see the Cape Verd light that very night, and there it +was, sure enough, upon our left front the moment that darkness came. +Next day, however, the land was out of sight, and Burns, the mate, +explained to me that we should see no more until we came to our port in +the Gulf of Biafra. Every day we flew south with a favouring wind, and +always at noon the pin upon the chart was moved nearer and nearer to the +African coast. I may explain that palm oil was the cargo which we were +in search of, and that our own lading consisted of coloured cloths, old +muskets, and such other trifles as the English sell to the savages. + +At last the wind which had followed us so long died away, and for +several days we drifted about on a calm and oily sea, under a sun which +brought the pitch bubbling out between the planks upon the deck. We +turned and turned our sails to catch every wandering puff, until at +last we came out of this belt of calm and ran south again with a brisk +breeze, the sea all round us being alive with flying fishes. For some +days Burns appeared to be uneasy, and I observed him continually shading +his eyes with his hand and staring at the horizon as if he were looking +for land. Twice I caught him with his red head against the chart in the +cabin, gazing at that pin, which was always approaching and yet never +reaching the African coast. At last one evening, as Captain Fourneau and +I were playing ecarte in the cabin, the mate entered with an angry look +upon his sunburned face. + +“I beg your pardon, Captain Fourneau,” said he. + +“But do you know what course the man at the wheel is steering?” + +“Due south,” the captain answered, with his eyes fixed upon his cards. + +“And he should be steering due east.” + +“How do you make that out?” + +The mate gave an angry growl. + +“I may not have much education,” said he, “but let me tell you this, +Captain Fourneau, I've sailed these waters since I was a little nipper +of ten, and I know the line when I'm on it, and I know the doldrums, and +I know how to find my way to the oil rivers. We are south of the line +now, and we should be steering due east instead of due south if your +port is the port that the owners sent you to.” + +“Excuse me, Mr. Gerard. Just remember that it is my lead,” said the +captain, laying down his cards. + +“Come to the map here, Mr. Burns, and I will give you a lesson in +practical navigation. Here is the trade wind from the southwest and here +is the line, and here is the port that we want to make, and here is +a man who will have his own way aboard his own ship.” As he spoke he +seized the unfortunate mate by the throat and squeezed him until he was +nearly senseless. Kerouan, the steward, had rushed in with a rope, and +between them they gagged and trussed the man, so that he was utterly +helpless. + +“There is one of our Frenchmen at the wheel. We had best put the mate +overboard,” said the steward. + +“That is safest,” said Captain Fourneau. + +But that was more than I could stand. Nothing would persuade me to agree +to the death of a helpless man. + +With a bad grace Captain Fourneau consented to spare him, and we carried +him to the after-hold, which lay under the cabin. There he was laid +among the bales of Manchester cloth. + +“It is not worth while to put down the hatch,” said Captain Fourneau. +“Gustav, go to Mr. Turner and tell him that I would like to have a word +with him.” + +The unsuspecting second mate entered the cabin, and was instantly gagged +and secured as Burns had been. + +He was carried down and laid beside his comrade. The hatch was then +replaced. + +“Our hands have been forced by that red-headed dolt,” said the captain, +“and I have had to explode my mine before I wished. However, there is no +great harm done, and it will not seriously disarrange my plans. + +“Kerouan, you will take a keg of rum forward to the crew and tell them +that the captain gives it to them to drink his health on the occasion of +crossing the line. + +“They will know no better. As to our own fellows, bring them down to +your pantry so that we may be sure that they are ready for business. +Now, Colonel Gerard, with your permission we will resume our game of +ecarte.” + +It is one of those occasions which one does not forget. + +This captain, who was a man of iron, shuffled and cut, dealt and +played as if he were in his cafe. From below we heard the inarticulate +murmurings of the two mates, half smothered by the handkerchiefs which +gagged them. Outside the timbers creaked and the sails hummed under the +brisk breeze which was sweeping us upon our way. Amid the splash of the +waves and the whistle of the wind we heard the wild cheers and shoutings +of the English sailors as they broached the keg of rum. We played +half-a-dozen games and then the captain rose. “I think they are ready +for us now,” said he. He took a brace of pistols from a locker, and he +handed one of them to me. + +But we had no need to fear resistance, for there was no one to resist. +The Englishman of those days, whether soldier or sailor, was an +incorrigible drunkard. + +Without drink he was a brave and good man. But if drink were laid before +him it was a perfect madness--nothing could induce him to take it with +moderation. + +In the dim light of the den which they inhabited, five senseless figures +and two shouting, swearing, singing madmen represented the crew of the +Black Swan. Coils of rope were brought forward by the steward, and with +the help of two French seamen (the third was at the wheel) we secured +the drunkards and tied them up, so that it was impossible for them to +speak or move. They were placed under the fore-hatch, as their officers +had been under the after one, and Kerouan was directed twice a day to +give them food and drink. So at last we found that the Black Swan was +entirely our own. + +Had there been bad weather I do not know what we should have done, but +we still went gaily upon our way with a wind which was strong enough to +drive us swiftly south, but not strong enough to cause us alarm. On the +evening of the third day I found Captain Fourneau gazing eagerly out +from the platform in the front of the vessel. “Look, Gerard, look!” he +cried, and pointed over the pole which stuck out in front. + +A light blue sky rose from a dark blue sea, and far away, at the point +where they met, was a shadowy something like a cloud, but more definite +in shape. + +“What is it?” I cried. + +“It is land.” + +“And what land?” + +I strained my ears for the answer, and yet I knew already what the +answer would be. + +“It is St. Helena.” + +Here, then, was the island of my dreams! Here was the cage where our +great Eagle of France was confined! + +All those thousands of leagues of water had not sufficed to keep Gerard +from the master whom he loved. + +There he was, there on that cloud-bank yonder over the dark blue sea. +How my eyes devoured it! How my soul flew in front of the vessel--flew +on and on to tell him that he was not forgotten, that after many days +one faithful servant was coming to his side. Every instant the dark blur +upon the water grew harder and clearer. + +Soon I could see plainly enough that it was indeed a mountainous island. +The night fell, but still I knelt upon the deck, with my eyes fixed upon +the darkness which covered the spot where I knew that the great Emperor +was. An hour passed and another one, and then suddenly a little golden +twinkling light shone out exactly ahead of us. It was the light of the +window of some house--perhaps of his house. It could not be more than +a mile or two away. Oh, how I held out my hands to it!--they were the +hands of Etienne Gerard, but it was for all France that they were held +out. + +Every light had been extinguished aboard our ship, and presently, at +the direction of Captain Fourneau, we all pulled upon one of the ropes, +which had the effect of swinging round one of the sticks above us, and +so stopping the vessel. Then he asked me to step down to the cabin. + +“You understand everything now, Colonel Gerard,” said he, “and you will +forgive me if I did not take you into my complete confidence before. +In a matter of such importance I make no man my confidant. I have long +planned the rescue of the Emperor, and my remaining in England and +joining their merchant service was entirely with that design. All has +worked out exactly as I expected. I have made several successful voyages +to the West Coast of Africa, so that there was no difficulty in my +obtaining the command of this one. One by one I got these old French +man-of-war's-men among the hands. As to you, I was anxious to have one +tried fighting man in case of resistance, and I also desired to have a +fitting companion for the Emperor during his long homeward voyage. My +cabin is already fitted up for his use. I trust that before to-morrow +morning he will be inside it, and we out of sight of this accursed +island.” + +You can think of my emotion, my friends, as I listened to these words. +I embraced the brave Fourneau, and implored him to tell me how I could +assist him. + +“I must leave it all in your hands,” said he. “Would that I could have +been the first to pay him homage, but it would not be wise for me to +go. The glass is falling, there is a storm brewing, and we have the land +under our lee. Besides, there are three English cruisers near the island +which may be upon us at any moment. It is for me, therefore, to guard +the ship and for you to bring off the Emperor.” + +I thrilled at the words. + +“Give me your instructions!” I cried. + +“I can only spare you one man, for already I can hardly pull round the +yards,” said he. “One of the boats has been lowered, and this man will +row you ashore and await your return. The light which you see is indeed +the light of Longwood. All who are in the house are your friends, and +all may be depended upon to aid the Emperor's escape. There is a cordon +of English sentries, but they are not very near to the house. Once you +have got as far as that you will convey our plans to the Emperor, guide +him down to the boat, and bring him on board.” + +The Emperor himself could not have given his instructions more shortly +and clearly. There was not a moment to be lost. The boat with the seaman +was waiting alongside. I stepped into it, and an instant afterward we +had pushed off. Our little boat danced over the dark waters, but always +shining before my eyes was the light of Longwood, the light of the +Emperor, the star of hope. Presently the bottom of the boat grated upon +the pebbles of the beach. It was a deserted cove, and no challenge from +a sentry came to disturb us. I left the seaman by the boat and I began +to climb the hillside. + +There was a goat track winding in and out among the rocks, so I had no +difficulty in finding my way. It stands to reason that all paths in St. +Helena would lead to the Emperor. I came to a gate. No sentry--and +I passed through. Another gate--still no sentry! I wondered what had +become of this cordon of which Fourneau had spoken. I had come now to +the top of my climb, for there was the light burning steadily right in +front of me. I concealed myself and took a good look round, but still I +could see no sign of the enemy. As I approached I saw the house, a long, +low building with a veranda. A man was walking up and down upon the path +in front. I crept nearer and had a look at him. + +Perhaps it was this cursed Hudson Lowe. What a triumph if I could not +only rescue the Emperor, but also avenge him! But it was more likely +that this man was an English sentry. I crept nearer still, and the man +stopped in front of the lighted window, so that I could see him. No; it +was no soldier, but a priest. I wondered what such a man could be doing +there at two in the morning. Was he French or English? If he were one of +the household I might take him into my confidence. If he were English he +might ruin all my plans. + +I crept a little nearer still, and at that moment he entered the house, +a flood of light pouring out through the open door. All was clear for me +now and I understood that not an instant was to be lost. Bending myself +double I ran swiftly forward to the lighted window. + +Raising my head I peeped through, and there was the Emperor lying dead +before me. + +My friends, I fell down upon the gravel walk as senseless as if a bullet +had passed through my brain. So great was the shock that I wonder that I +survived it. + +And yet in half an hour I had staggered to my feet again, shivering in +every limb, my teeth chattering, and there I stood staring with the eyes +of a maniac into that room of death. + +He lay upon a bier in the centre of the chamber, calm, composed, +majestic, his face full of that reserve power which lightened our hearts +upon the day of battle. A half-smile was fixed upon his pale lips, and +his eyes, half-opened, seemed to be turned on mine. He was stouter +than when I had seen him at Waterloo, and there was a gentleness of +expression which I had never seen in life. On either side of him burned +rows of candles, and this was the beacon which had welcomed us at sea, +which had guided me over the water, and which I had hailed as my star +of hope. Dimly I became conscious that many people were kneeling in +the room; the little Court, men and women, who had shared his fortunes, +Bertrand, his wife, the priest, Montholon--all were there. I would have +prayed too, but my heart was too heavy and bitter for prayer. And yet +I must leave, and I could not leave him without a sign. Regardless of +whether I was seen or not, I drew myself erect before my dead leader, +brought my heels together, and raised my hand in a last salute. Then I +turned and hurried off through the darkness, with the picture of the wan, +smiling lips and the steady grey eyes dancing always before me. + +It had seemed to me but a little time that I had been away, and yet the +boatman told me that it was hours. + +Only when he spoke of it did I observe that the wind was blowing half +a gale from the sea and that the waves were roaring in upon the beach. +Twice we tried to push out our little boat, and twice it was thrown back +by the sea. The third time a great wave filled it and stove the bottom. +Helplessly we waited beside it until the dawn broke, to show a raging +sea and a flying scud above it. There was no sign of the Black Swan. +Climbing the hill we looked down, but on all the great torn expanse of +the ocean there was no gleam of a sail. She was gone. Whether she had +sunk, or whether she was recaptured by her English crew, or what strange +fate may have been in store for her, I do not know. Never again in this +life did I see Captain Fourneau to tell him the result of my mission. +For my own part I gave myself up to the English, my boatman and I +pretending that we were the only survivors of a lost vessel--though, +indeed, there was no pretence in the matter. At the hands of their +officers I received that generous hospitality which I have always +encountered, but it was many a long month before I could get a passage +back to the dear land outside of which there can be no happiness for so +true a Frenchman as myself. + +And so I tell you in one evening how I bade good-bye to my master, and +I take my leave also of you, my kind friends, who have listened so +patiently to the long-winded stories of an old broken soldier. Russia, +Italy, Germany, Spain, Portugal, and England, you have gone with me to +all these countries, and you have seen through my dim eyes something of +the sparkle and splendour of those great days, and I have brought back +to you some shadow of those men whose tread shook the earth. Treasure it +in your minds and pass it on to your children, for the memory of a great +age is the most precious treasure that a nation can possess. As the tree +is nurtured by its own cast leaves so it is these dead men and vanished +days which may bring out another blossoming of heroes, of rulers, and of +sages. I go to Gascony, but my words stay here in your memory, and long +after Etienne Gerard is forgotten a heart may be warmed or a spirit +braced by some faint echo of the words that he has spoken. Gentlemen, an +old soldier salutes you and bids you farewell. + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's The Adventures of Gerard, by Arthur Conan Doyle + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE ADVENTURES OF GERARD *** + +***** This file should be named 1644-0.txt or 1644-0.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/1/6/4/1644/ + +Produced by Charles Keller + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. 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