It seems I’ve once again been bitten by the Napoleonic bug. How or why, I’ll never know. It is one of those things that seems to happen every so often…<\/p>\n
So far the bug has only impacted my reading habits, but I suspect it will soon cause me more pain, as I’m feeling the need to setup a war game or two, and once that happens, I know I’ll need to paint more figures and… Well, we all know what happens next – a complete derailment of all other game projects.<\/p>\n
Alright then, so the Napoleonic bug ‘stuff’ is as out of the way as it is going to be (for now), lets move on to the ‘something different’ bit. Since we are on the theme of Napoleonics, I thought it would be fun to share a bit of my recent (fiction) reading.<\/p>\n
In addition to the purely historical aspects of the Napoleonic wars I’ve always enjoined a bit of fiction thrown into the mix. Sure, we have all heard of Bernard Cornwell’s Richard Sharpe and of course we can’t forget Lance Corporal Matthew Dodd of the 95th Rifles. We first meet Corporal Dodd in “Death to the French” by C.S. Forrester; Matthew Dodd also makes an appearance in ‘Sharpes Escape’ by Bernard Cornwell. A character that I had all but forgotten is: Brigadier Gerard, the hero of a series of comic short stories by Arthur Conan Doyle. The hero of these stories is Etienne Gerard, a Hussar in the French Army during the Napoleonic Wars. Gerard is most vain – he is convinced that he is the bravest soldier, greatest swordsman, most accomplished horseman and gallant lover in all of France…<\/p>\n
The stories were originally published in The Strand<\/strong> magazine between December 1894 and September 1903. They were later issued in two volumes as ‘The Exploits of Brigadier Gerard’, and ‘The Adventures of Gerard’. While the stories can still be found in print (most recent prints 2008) and online, I thought it would be fun to share the earliest of these stories with you here on Table Top Talk<\/strong>. So, without further delay I present for your reading pleasure from December 1894…<\/p>\n HOW THE BRIGADIER WON HIS MEDAL<\/strong><\/p>\n The Duke of Tarentum, or Macdonald, as his old comrades prefer to call ‘Brigadier Gerard of the Hussars,’ said he, with the air of the corporal I saluted.<\/p>\n ‘Major Charpentier of the Horse Grenadiers.’<\/p>\n My companion answered to his name.<\/p>\n ‘The Emperor has a mission for you.’<\/p>\n Without more ado he flung open the door and announced us.<\/p>\n I have seen Napoleon ten times on horseback to once on foot, and I think He was standing at the side of the room, away from the window, looking ‘You have not yet received the cross of honour, Brigadier Gerard?’ he I replied that I had not, and was about to add that it was not for want ‘And you, Major?’ he asked.<\/p>\n ‘No, sire.’<\/p>\n ‘Then you shall both have your opportunity now.’<\/p>\n He led us to the great map upon the wall and placed the tip of ‘I will be frank with you, gentlemen, as with two comrades. You have ‘Now,’ said he, ‘the further into the country these people march, the Ah, if I could tell you the glow of pride which it gave me to be taken ‘I will show you your route,’ said he, turning back to the map. ‘Your I am a rough soldier, but I have words and ideas. I had begun to speak ‘And you, Major Charpentier?’<\/p>\n ‘If we find our route unsafe, are we at liberty to choose another?’ said ‘Soldiers do not choose, they obey.’ He inclined his head to show that Well, as you may think, we lost little time in getting upon our way. In When we came out of the town we passed through the French camp, and then For my own part, I confess that I shed a tear until the thought came I have never been very friendly with this Charpentier; and now for Well, we came at last to Bazoches, where he was to take the southern ‘What do you make of it, Brigadier?’ he asked.<\/p>\n ‘Of what?’<\/p>\n ‘Of our mission.’<\/p>\n ‘Surely it is plain enough.’<\/p>\n ‘You think so? Why should the Emperor tell us his plans?’<\/p>\n ‘Because he recognized our intelligence.’<\/p>\n My companion laughed in a manner which I found annoying.<\/p>\n ‘May I ask what you intend to do if you find these villages full of ‘I shall obey my orders.’<\/p>\n ‘But you will be killed.’<\/p>\n ‘Very possibly.’<\/p>\n He laughed again, and so offensively that I clapped my hand to my sword. I stopped to give Violette a meal at a wayside auberge on the side of a When I heard that Blucher had been there for two days, I was much When I came to the farmhouse which lies to the right of the road just Three Uhlans were at the mouth of the main street, their horses Well, the first thing that I did was to dismount and to lead my mare I must have been well within the enemy’s lines now, for I heard a number It was a lovely moon, and every tree threw a black bar across the road. I am an excellent soldier. I do not say this because I am prejudiced in All this flashed on me as if by instinct, you understand. My eyes had But it was not over yet. If she had been fresh she might have gained a The officer’s mount was a bay–a fine horse, though not to be spoken of ‘Rendez-vous!’ he yelled.<\/p>\n ‘I must compliment monsieur upon his French,’ said I, resting the barrel But they were not so easily shaken off, these brigands. The two troopers Well, I had the dragoons behind me and the hussars in front. Never since Who should be at the head of the troop but old Bouvet, whom I saved at ‘The enemy is there,’ said he. ‘You cannot go.’<\/p>\n ‘I prefer to go where the enemy is,’ I answered.<\/p>\n ‘But why not go straight to Paris with your despatch? Why should you ‘A soldier does not choose–he obeys,’ said I, just as I had heard Old Bouvet laughed in his wheezy way, until I had to give my moustachios ‘Well’, said he, ‘you had best come along with us, for we are all bound So away we went, jingling and clanking through the quiet night until we His information was certain, for his brother was the Mayor’s coachman, We were into the town like a torrent, hacked down the vedettes, rode Well, it was at this point that I made an error–a very serious error it There is no doubt that the mare was spent, but still it is true that I When the house was cleared I took a bucket of water out for Violette, And now I come to the part of my story which may seem singular to you, Old Bouvet was waiting in the passage when I entered, and he asked me ‘Where is the wine?’ I asked.<\/p>\n ‘Ah, you may trust two hussars to find where the wine is,’ said he, and When we got there we found another door, which opened on to a winding Bouvet is a brave man: I will say that for him. He flashed out his sword ‘It is all over,’ I cried, grasping at Bouvet’s sleeve.<\/p>\n ‘There is one more to die,’ he shouted, and away he went like a madman Well, it was not a very rosy prospect down there either. Bouvet had My first plan was to set fire to the house, in the hope of escaping in There was a slight ray of light coming from some slit or grating. The I have said that at the further end of the cellar there was a dim grey But only for a moment. ‘Courage!’ I thought. ‘Am I not a hussar, a At first I had feared to light my candle lest I should make a mark of I held my candle high, and presently I caught a glimpse of the man’s ‘Monsieur,’ he cried, in excellent French, ‘I surrender myself on a ‘Sir,’ said I, ‘a Frenchman knows how to treat an unfortunate enemy. ‘I am the Count Boutkine, of the Emperor’s own Don Cossacks,’ said he. ‘And would it be an indiscretion,’ I asked, ‘if I were to inquire how ‘Nothing more simple,’ said he. ‘It was our intention to start at early I thought of how old Bouvet had behaved under the same conditions, and ‘Count Boutkine,’ said I, ‘I find myself in a most difficult position.’<\/p>\n ‘And why?’ he asked.<\/p>\n ‘Because I have promised you your life.’<\/p>\n His jaw dropped a little.<\/p>\n ‘You would not withdraw your promise?’ he cried.<\/p>\n ‘If the worst comes to the worst I can die in your defence,’ said I; ‘What is it, then?’ he asked.<\/p>\n ‘I will be frank with you,’ said I. ‘You must know that our fellows, and The Russian grew pale at my words and the way in which I said them.<\/p>\n ‘But this is terrible,’ said he.<\/p>\n ‘Horrible!’ said I. ‘If we were to go up together at this moment I ‘I am in your hands,’ he cried. ‘What would you suggest that we should ‘That worst of all.’<\/p>\n ‘And why?’<\/p>\n ‘Because our fellows will ransack the house presently, and then you ‘Should I then take the uniform off?’<\/p>\n ‘Excellent!’ I cried. ‘Hold, we have it! You will take your uniform off ‘It is not the French I fear so much as the Poles.’<\/p>\n ‘But my uniform will be a safeguard against either.’<\/p>\n ‘How can I thank you?’ he cried. ‘But you–what are you to wear?’<\/p>\n ‘I will wear yours.’<\/p>\n ‘And perhaps fall a victim to your generosity?’<\/p>\n ‘It is my duty to take the risk,’ I answered; ‘but I have no fears. I His fingers trembled with eagerness as he tore off his tunic. His boots ‘With your leave,’ said I, ‘I shall now bind you to a barrel.’<\/p>\n He made a great fuss over this, but I have learned in my soldiering There were only about twenty steps, and yet, while I came up them, I When I made my way out into the hall, with all the nonchalance in my The front of the hall was full of Prussian infantry, who were knocking There were a hundred horses tethered about outside, most of them Well, the town was full of Prussians by this time. They lined the One or two officers spoke to me with an air of authority, but I shook my Ah, my friend, you who read this, if you have any heart, you will feel I dug my spurs into my pony then, for if I were only far enough from the And it gave me a glow of happiness, as I rode, to think that I had done When I had got as far as Dammartin I caught a first glimpse of our own At this a young officer galloped out from among the dragoons, also Well, the road was clear, and about three o’clock in the afternoon I was Although I am a man singularly free from conceit, still I must confess I was hardly in costume to visit a King; but, after all, if one has a ‘Were you the only messenger?’ he asked.<\/p>\n ‘There was one other, sir,’ said I. ‘Major Charpentier, of the Horse ‘He has not yet arrived,’ said the King of Spain.<\/p>\n ‘If you had seen the legs of his horse, sire, you would not wonder at ‘There may be other reasons,’ said Talleyrand, and he gave that singular Well, they paid me a compliment or two, though they might have said a I need not say that I rode back by a safe route, for I had seen quite When I came to the headquarters I was shown straight into the Emperor’s ‘What the deuce are you doing here?’ he shouted. When he was angry he ‘I have the honour to report to you, sire,’ said I, ‘that I have ‘What!’ he yelled, and his two eyes transfixed me like bayonets. Oh, ‘What has become of Charpentier?’ he asked.<\/p>\n ‘He is captured,’ said Macdonald.<\/p>\n ‘By whom?’<\/p>\n ‘The Russians.’<\/p>\n ‘The Cossacks?’<\/p>\n ‘No, a single Cossack.’<\/p>\n ‘He gave himself up?’<\/p>\n ‘Without resistance.’<\/p>\n ‘He is an intelligent officer. You will see that the medal of honour is When I heard those words I had to rub my eyes to make sure that I was ‘As to you,’ cried the Emperor, taking a step forward as if he would When I heard those cruel words and saw the angry, white face which ‘Sire,’ said I, and the tears would trickle down my cheeks whilst I I dashed the tears from my eyes as I spoke, and with such fire and ‘There, there!’ said he. ‘Forget anything which I may have said. I I turned to the door, and my hand was upon the handle, when the Emperor ‘You will see,’ said he, turning to the Duke of Tarentum, ‘that If you enjoyed this story and would like to see more posted here, let us know and we will be more than happy to post more of these fun stories.<\/em><\/p>\n More news later this week…<\/em><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" It seems I’ve once again been bitten by the Napoleonic bug. How or why, I’ll never know. It is one of those things that seems to happen every so often… So far the bug has only impacted my reading habits, … Continue reading
\nhim, was, as I could perceive, in the vilest of tempers. His grim,
\nScotch face was like one of those grotesque door-knockers which one sees
\nin the Faubourg St Germain. We heard afterwards that the Emperor had
\nsaid in jest that he would have sent him against Wellington in the
\nSouth, but that he was afraid to trust him within the sound of the
\npipes. Major Charpentier and I could plainly see that he was smouldering
\nwith anger.<\/p>\n
\nwith the recruit.<\/p>\n
\nthat he does wisely to show himself to the troops in this fashion, for
\nhe cuts a very good figure in the saddle. As we saw him now he was the
\nshortest man out of six by a good hand’s breadth, and yet I am no very
\nbig man myself, though I ride quite heavy enough for a hussar. It is
\nevident, too, that his body is too long for his legs. With his big,
\nround head, his curved shoulders, and his clean-shaven face, he is more
\nlike a Professor at the Sorbonne than the first soldier in France. Every
\nman to his taste, but it seems to me that, if I could clap a pair of
\nfine light cavalry whiskers, like my own, on to him, it would do him no
\nharm. He has a firm mouth, however, and his eyes are remarkable. I have
\nseen them once turned on me in anger, and I had rather ride at a square
\non a spent horse than face them again. I am not a man who is easily
\ndaunted, either.<\/p>\n
\nup at a great map of the country which was hung upon the wall. Berthier
\nstood beside him, trying to look wise, and just as we entered, Napoleon
\nsnatched his sword impatiently from him and pointed with it on the map.
\nHe was talking fast and low, but I heard him say, ‘The valley of the
\nMeuse,’ and twice he repeated ‘Berlin.’ As we entered, his aide-de-camp
\nadvanced to us, but the Emperor stopped him and beckoned us to his side.<\/p>\n
\nasked.<\/p>\n
\nof having deserved it, when he cut me short in his decided fashion.<\/p>\n
\nBerthier’s sword on Rheims.<\/p>\n
\nboth been with me since Marengo, I believe?’ He had a strangely pleasant
\nsmile, which used to light up his pale face with a kind of cold
\nsunshine. ‘Here at Rheims are our present headquarters on this the 14th
\nof March. Very good. Here is Paris, distant by road a good twenty-five
\nleagues. Blucher lies to the north, Schwarzenberg to the south.’ He
\nprodded at the map with the sword as he spoke.<\/p>\n
\nmore completely I shall crush them. They are about to advance upon
\nParis. Very good. Let them do so. My brother, the King of Spain, will be
\nthere with a hundred thousand men. It is to him that I send you. You
\nwill hand him this letter, a copy of which I confide to each of you. It
\nis to tell him that I am coming at once, in two days’ time, with every
\nman and horse and gun to his relief. I must give them forty-eight hours
\nto recover. Then straight to Paris! You understand me, gentlemen?’<\/p>\n
\ninto the great man’s confidence in this way. As he handed our letters to
\nus I clicked my spurs and threw out my chest, smiling and nodding to let
\nhim know that I saw what he would be after. He smiled also, and rested
\nhis hand for a moment upon the cape of my dolman. I would have given
\nhalf my arrears of pay if my mother could have seen me at that instant.<\/p>\n
\norders are to ride together as far as Bazoches. You will then separate,
\nthe one making for Paris by Oulchy and Neuilly, and the other to the
\nnorth by Braine, Soissons, and Senlis. Have you anything to say,
\nBrigadier Gerard?’<\/p>\n
\nabout glory and the peril of France when he cut me short.<\/p>\n
\nhe.<\/p>\n
\nwe were dismissed, and turned round to Berthier. I do not know what he
\nsaid, but I heard them both laughing.<\/p>\n
\nhalf an hour we were riding down the High Street of Rheims, and it
\nstruck twelve o’clock as we passed the Cathedral. I had my little grey
\nmare, Violette, the one which Sebastiani had wished to buy after
\nDresden. It is the fastest horse in the six brigades of light cavalry,
\nand was only beaten by the Duke of Rovigo’s racer from England. As to
\nCharpentier, he had the kind of horse which a horse grenadier or a
\ncuirassier would be likely to ride: a back like a bedstead, you
\nunderstand, and legs like the posts. He is a hulking fellow himself, so
\nthat they looked a singular pair. And yet in his insane conceit he ogled
\nthe girls as they waved their handkerchiefs to me from the windows, and
\nhe twirled his ugly red moustache up into his eyes, just as if it were
\nto him that their attention was addressed.<\/p>\n
\nacross the battle-field of yesterday, which was still covered both by
\nour own poor fellows and by the Russians. But of the two the camp was
\nthe sadder sight. Our army was thawing away. The Guards were all right,
\nthough the young guard was full of conscripts. The artillery and the
\nheavy cavalry were also good if there were more of them, but the
\ninfantry privates with their under officers looked like schoolboys with
\ntheir masters. And we had no reserves. When one considered that there
\nwere 80,000 Prussians to the north and 150,000 Russians and Austrians to
\nthe south, it might make even the bravest man grave.<\/p>\n
\nthat the Emperor was still with us, and that on that very morning he had
\nplaced his hand upon my dolman and had promised me a medal of honour.
\nThis set me singing, and I spurred Violette on, until Charpentier had to
\nbeg me to have mercy on his great, snorting, panting camel. The road was
\nbeaten into paste and rutted two feet deep by the artillery, so that he
\nwas right in saying that it was not the place for a gallop.<\/p>\n
\ntwenty miles of the way I could not draw a word from him. He rode with
\nhis brows puckered and his chin upon his breast, like a man who is heavy
\nwith thought. More than once I asked him what was on his mind, thinking
\nthat, perhaps, with my quicker intelligence I might set the matter
\nstraight. His answer always was that it was his mission of which he was
\nthinking, which surprised me, because, although I had never thought much
\nof his intelligence, still it seemed to me to be impossible that anyone
\ncould be puzzled by so simple and soldierly a task.<\/p>\n
\nroad and I the northern. He half turned in his saddle before he left me,
\nand he looked at me with a singular expression of inquiry in his face.<\/p>\n
\nPrussians?’ he asked.<\/p>\n
\nBut before I could tell him what I thought of his stupidity and rudeness
\nhe had wheeled his horse, and was lumbering away down the other road. I
\nsaw his big fur cap vanish over the brow of the hill, and then I rode
\nupon my way, wondering at his conduct. From time to time I put my hand
\nto the breast of my tunic and felt the paper crackle beneath my fingers.
\nAh, my precious paper, which should be turned into the little silver
\nmedal for which I had yearned so long. All the way from Braine to
\nSermoise I was thinking of what my mother would say when she saw it.<\/p>\n
\nhill not far from Soissons–a place surrounded by old oaks, and with so
\nmany crows that one could scarce hear one’s own voice. It was from the
\ninnkeeper that I learned that Marmont had fallen back two days before,
\nand that the Prussians were over the Aisne. An hour later, in the fading
\nlight, I saw two of their vedettes upon the hill to the right, and then,
\nas darkness gathered, the heavens to the north were all glimmering from
\nthe lights of a bivouac.<\/p>\n
\nsurprised that the Emperor should not have known that the country
\nthrough which he had ordered me to carry my precious letter was already
\noccupied by the enemy. Still, I thought of the tone of his voice when he
\nsaid to Charpentier that a soldier must not choose, but must obey. I
\nshould follow the route he had laid down for me as long as Violette
\ncould move a hoof or I a finger upon her bridle. All the way from
\nSermoise to Soissons, where the road dips up and down, curving among fir
\nwoods, I kept my pistol ready and my sword-belt braced, pushing on
\nswiftly where the path was straight, and then coming slowly round the
\ncorners in the way we learned in Spain.<\/p>\n
\nafter you cross the wooden bridge over the Crise, near where the great
\nstatue of the Virgin stands, a woman cried to me from the field, saying
\nthat the Prussians were in Soissons. A small party of their lancers, she
\nsaid, had come in that very afternoon, and a whole division was expected
\nbefore midnight. I did not wait to hear the end of her tale, but clapped
\nspurs into Violette, and in five minutes was galloping her into the
\ntown.<\/p>\n
\ntethered, and they gossiping together, each with a pipe as long as my
\nsabre. I saw them well in the light of an open door, but of me they
\ncould have seen only the flash of Violette’s grey side and the black
\nflutter of my cloak. A moment later I flew through a stream of them
\nrushing from an open gateway. Violette’s shoulder sent one of them
\nreeling, and I stabbed at another but missed him. Pang, pang, went two
\ncarbines, but I had flown round the curve of the street, and never so
\nmuch as heard the hiss of the balls. Ah, we were great, both Violette
\nand I. She lay down to it like a coursed hare, the fire flying from her
\nhoofs. I stood in my stirrups and brandished my sword. Someone sprang
\nfor my bridle. I sliced him through the arm, and I heard him howling
\nbehind me. Two horsemen closed upon me. I cut one down and outpaced the
\nother. A minute later I was clear of the town, and flying down a broad
\nwhite road with the black poplars on either side. For a time I heard the
\nrattle of hoofs behind me, but they died and died until I could not tell
\nthem from the throbbing of my own heart. Soon I pulled up and listened,
\nbut all was silent. They had given up the chase.<\/p>\n
\ninto a small wood through which a stream ran. There I watered her and
\nrubbed her down, giving her two pieces of sugar soaked in cognac from my
\nflask. She was spent from the sharp chase, but it was wonderful to see
\nhow she came round with a half-hour’s rest. When my thighs closed upon
\nher again, I could tell by the spring and the swing of her that it would
\nnot be her fault if I did not win my way safe to Paris.<\/p>\n
\nof them shouting one of their rough drinking songs out of a house by the
\nroadside, and I went round by the fields to avoid it. At another time
\ntwo men came out into the moonlight (for by this time it was a cloudless
\nnight) and shouted something in German, but I galloped on without
\nheeding them, and they were afraid to fire, for their own hussars are
\ndressed exactly as I was. It is best to take no notice at these times,
\nand then they put you down as a deaf man.<\/p>\n
\nI could see the countryside just as if it were daytime, and very
\npeaceful it looked, save that there was a great fire raging somewhere in
\nthe north. In the silence of the night-time, and with the knowledge that
\ndanger was in front and behind me, the sight of that great distant fire
\nwas very striking and awesome. But I am not easily clouded, for I have
\nseen too many singular things, so I hummed a tune between my teeth and
\nthought of little Lisette, whom I might see in Paris. My mind was full
\nof her when, trotting round a corner, I came straight upon half-a-dozen
\nGerman dragoons, who were sitting round a brushwood fire by the
\nroadside.<\/p>\n
\nmy own favour, but because I really am so. I can weigh every chance in a
\nmoment, and decide with as much certainty as though I had brooded for a
\nweek. Now I saw like a flash that, come what might, I should be chased,
\nand on a horse which had already done a long twelve leagues. But it was
\nbetter to be chased onwards than to be chased back. On this moonlit
\nnight, with fresh horses behind me, I must take my risk in either case;
\nbut if I were to shake them off, I preferred that it should be near
\nSenlis than near Soissons.<\/p>\n
\nhardly rested on the bearded faces under the brass helmets before my
\nrowels had touched Violette, and she was off with a rattle like a
\npas-de-charge. Oh, the shouting and rushing and stamping from behind us!
\nThree of them fired and three swung themselves on to their horses. A
\nbullet rapped on the crupper of my saddle with a noise like a stick on a
\ndoor. Violette sprang madly forward, and I thought she had been wounded,
\nbut it was only a graze above the near fore-fetlock. Ah, the dear little
\nmare, how I loved her when I felt her settle down into that long, easy
\ngallop of hers, her hoofs going like a Spanish girl’s castanets. I could
\nnot hold myself. I turned on my saddle and shouted and raved, ‘Vive
\nl’Empereur!’ I screamed and laughed at the gust of oaths that came back
\nto me.<\/p>\n
\nmile in five. Now she could only hold her own with a very little over.
\nThere was one of them, a young boy of an officer, who was better mounted
\nthan the others. He drew ahead with every stride. Two hundred yards
\nbehind him were two troopers, but I saw every time that I glanced round
\nthat the distance between them was increasing. The other three who had
\nwaited to shoot were a long way in the rear.<\/p>\n
\nwith Violette; yet it was a powerful brute, and it seemed to me that in
\na few miles its freshness might tell. I waited until the lad was a long
\nway in front of his comrades, and then I eased my mare down a little–a
\nvery, very little, so that he might think he was really catching me.
\nWhen he came within pistol-shot of me I drew and cocked my own pistol,
\nand laid my chin upon my shoulder to see what he would do. He did not
\noffer to fire, and I soon discerned the cause. The silly boy had taken
\nhis pistols from his holsters when he had camped for the night. He
\nwagged his sword at me now and roared some threat or other. He did not
\nseem to understand that he was at my mercy. I eased Violette down until
\nthere was not the length of a long lance between the grey tail and the
\nbay muzzle.<\/p>\n
\nof my pistol upon my bridle-arm, which I have always found best when
\nshooting from the saddle. I aimed at his face, and could see, even in
\nthe moonlight, how white he grew when he understood that it was all up
\nwith him. But even as my finger pressed the trigger I thought of his
\nmother, and I put my ball through his horse’s shoulder. I fear he hurt
\nhimself in the fall, for it was a fearful crash, but I had my letter to
\nthink of, so I stretched the mare into a gallop once more.<\/p>\n
\nthought no more of their young officer than if he had been a recruit
\nthrown in the riding-school. They left him to the others and thundered
\non after me. I had pulled up on the brow of a hill, thinking that I had
\nheard the last of them; but, my faith, I soon saw there was no time for
\nloitering, so away we went, the mare tossing her head and I my shako, to
\nshow what we thought of two dragoons who tried to catch a hussar. But at
\nthis moment, even while I laughed at the thought, my heart stood still
\nwithin me, for there at the end of the long white road was a black patch
\nof cavalry waiting to receive me. To a young soldier it might have
\nseemed the shadow of the trees, but to me it was a troop of hussars,
\nand, turn where I could, death seemed to be waiting for me.<\/p>\n
\nMoscow have I seemed to be in such peril. But for the honour of the
\nbrigade I had rather be cut down by a light cavalryman than by a heavy.
\nI never drew bridle, therefore, or hesitated for an instant, but I let
\nViolette have her head. I remember that I tried to pray as I rode, but I
\nam a little out of practice at such things, and the only words I could
\nremember were the prayer for fine weather which we used at the school on
\nthe evening before holidays. Even this seemed better than nothing, and I
\nwas pattering it out, when suddenly I heard French voices in front of
\nme. Ah, mon Dieu, but the joy went through my heart like a musket-ball.
\nThey were ours–our own dear little rascals from the corps of Marmont.
\nRound whisked my two dragoons and galloped for their lives, with the
\nmoon gleaming on their brass helmets, while I trotted up to my friends
\nwith no undue haste, for I would have them understand that though a
\nhussar may fly, it is not in his nature to fly very fast. Yet I fear
\nthat Violette’s heaving flanks and foam-spattered muzzle gave the lie
\nto my careless bearing.<\/p>\n
\nLeipzig! When he saw me his little pink eyes filled with tears, and,
\nindeed, I could not but shed a few myself at the sight of his joy. I
\ntold him of my mission, but he laughed when I said that I must pass
\nthrough Senlis.<\/p>\n
\nchoose to pass through the one place where you are almost sure to be
\ntaken or killed?’<\/p>\n
\nNapoleon say it.<\/p>\n
\na twirl and look him up and down in a manner which brought him to
\nreason.<\/p>\n
\nfor Senlis. Our orders are to reconnoitre the place. A squadron of
\nPoniatowski’s Polish Lancers are in front of us. If you must ride
\nthrough it, it is possible that we may be able to go with you.’<\/p>\n
\ncame up with the Poles–fine old soldiers all of them, though a trifle
\nheavy for their horses. It was a treat to see them, for they could not
\nhave carried themselves better if they had belonged to my own brigade.
\nWe rode together, until in the early morning we saw the lights of
\nSenlis. A peasant was coming along with a cart, and from him we learned
\nhow things were going there.<\/p>\n
\nand he had spoken with him late the night before. There was a single
\nsquadron of Cossacks–or a polk, as they call it in their frightful
\nlanguage–quartered upon the Mayor’s house, which stands at the corner
\nof the market-place, and is the largest building in the town. A whole
\ndivision of Prussion infantry was encamped in the woods to the north,
\nbut only the Cossacks were in Senlis. Ah, what a chance to avenge
\nourselves upon these barbarians, whose cruelty to our poor countryfolk
\nwas the talk at every camp fire.<\/p>\n
\nover the guard, and were smashing in the doors of the Mayor’s house
\nbefore they understood that there was a Frenchman within twenty miles of
\nthem. We saw horrid heads at the windows–heads bearded to the temples,
\nwith tangled hair and sheepskin caps, and silly, gaping mouths. ‘Hourra!
\nHourra!’ they shrieked, and fired with their carbines, but our fellows
\nwere into the house and at their throats before they had wiped the sleep
\nout of their eyes. It was dreadful to see how the Poles flung themselves
\nupon them, like starving wolves upon a herd of fat bucks–for, as you
\nknow, the Poles have a blood feud against the Cossacks. The most were
\nkilled in the upper rooms, whither they had fled for shelter, and the
\nblood was pouring down into the hall like rain from a roof. They are
\nterrible soldiers, these Poles, though I think they are a trifle heavy
\nfor their horses. Man for man, they are as big as Kellerman’s
\ncuirassiers. Their equipment is, of course, much lighter, since they are
\nwithout the cuirass, back-plate, and helmet.<\/p>\n
\nmust be admitted. Up to this moment I had carried out my mission in a
\nmanner which only my modesty prevents me from describing as remarkable.
\nBut now I did that which an official would condemn and a soldier excuse.<\/p>\n
\nmight have galloped on through Senlis and reached the country, where I
\nshould have had no enemy between me and Paris. But what hussar can ride
\npast a fight and never draw rein? It is to ask too much of him.
\nBesides, I thought that if Violette had an hour of rest I might have
\nthree hours the better at the other end. Then on the top of it came
\nthose heads at the windows, with their sheepskin hats and their
\nbarbarous cries. I sprang from my saddle, threw Violette’s bridle over a
\nrail-post, and ran into the house with the rest. It is true that I was
\ntoo late to be of service, and that I was nearly wounded by a
\nlance-thrust from one of these dying savages. Still, it is a pity to
\nmiss even the smallest affair, for one never knows what opportunity for
\nadvancement may present itself. I have seen more soldierly work in
\noutpost skirmishes and little gallop-and-hack affairs of the kind than
\nin any of the Emperor’s big battles.<\/p>\n
\nand our peasant guide showed me where the good Mayor kept his fodder. My
\nfaith, but the little sweetheart was ready for it. Then I sponged down
\nher legs, and leaving her still tethered I went back into the house to
\nfind a mouthful for myself, so that I should not need to halt again
\nuntil I was in Paris.<\/p>\n
\nalthough I could tell you at least ten things every bit as queer which
\nhave happened to me in my lifetime. You can understand that, to a man
\nwho spends his life in scouting and vedette duties on the bloody ground
\nwhich lies between two great armies, there are many chances of strange
\nexperiences. I’ll tell you, however, exactly what occurred.<\/p>\n
\nwhether we might not crack a bottle of wine together. ‘My faith, we must
\nnot be long,’ said he. ‘There are ten thousand of Theilmann’s Prussians
\nin the woods up yonder.’<\/p>\n
\ntaking a candle in his hand, he led the way down the stone stairs into
\nthe kitchen.<\/p>\n
\nstair with the cellar at the bottom. The Cossacks had been there before
\nus, as was easily seen by the broken bottles littered all over it.
\nHowever, the Mayor was a _bon-vivant_, and I do not wish to have a
\nbetter set of bins to pick from. Chambertin, Graves, Alicant, white wine
\nand red, sparkling and still, they lay in pyramids peeping coyly out of
\nsawdust. Old Bouvet stood with his candle looking here and peeping
\nthere, purring in his throat like a cat before a milk-pail. He had
\npicked upon a Burgundy at last, and had his hand outstretched to the
\nbottle when there came a roar of musketry from above us, a rush of feet,
\nand such a yelping and screaming as I have never listened to. The
\nPrussians were upon us!<\/p>\n
\nand away he clattered up the stone steps, his spurs clinking as he ran.
\nI followed him, but just as we came out into the kitchen passage a
\ntremendous shout told us that the house had been recaptured.<\/p>\n
\nup the second stair. In effect, I should have gone to my death also had
\nI been in his place, for he had done very wrong in not throwing out his
\nscouts to warn him if the Germans advanced upon him. For an instant I
\nwas about to rush up with him, and then I bethought myself that, after
\nall, I had my own mission to think of, and that if I were taken the
\nimportant letter of the Emperor would be sacrificed. I let Bouvet die
\nalone, therefore, and I went down into the cellar again, closing the
\ndoor behind me.<\/p>\n
\ndropped the candle when the alarm came, and I, pawing about in the
\ndarkness, could find nothing but broken bottles. At last I came upon
\nthe candle, which had rolled under the curve of a cask, but, try as I
\nwould with my tinderbox, I could not light it. The reason was that the
\nwick had been wet in a puddle of wine, so suspecting that this might be
\nthe case, I cut the end off with my sword. Then I found that it lighted
\neasily enough. But what to do I could not imagine. The scoundrels
\nupstairs were shouting themselves hoarse, several hundred of them from
\nthe sound, and it was clear that some of them would soon want to moisten
\ntheir throats. There would be an end to a dashing soldier, and of the
\nmission and of the medal. I thought of my mother and I thought of the
\nEmperor. It made me weep to think that the one would lose so excellent a
\nson and the other the best light cavalry officer he ever had since
\nLasalle’s time. But presently I dashed the tears from my eyes.
\n‘Courage!’ I cried, striking myself upon the chest. ‘Courage, my brave
\nboy. Is it possible that one who has come safely from Moscow without so
\nmuch as a frost-bite will die in a French wine-cellar?’ At the thought I
\nwas up on my feet and clutching at the letter in my tunic, for the
\ncrackle of it gave me courage.<\/p>\n
\nthe confusion. My second to get into an empty wine-cask. I was looking
\nround to see if I could find one, when suddenly, in the corner, I espied
\na little low door, painted of the same grey colour as the wall, so that
\nit was only a man with quick sight who would have noticed it. I pushed
\nagainst it, and at first I imagined that it was locked. Presently,
\nhowever, it gave a little, and then I understood that it was held by the
\npressure of something on the other side. I put my feet against a
\nhogshead of wine, and I gave such a push that the door flew open and I
\ncame down with a crash upon my back, the candle flying out of my hands,
\nso that I found myself in darkness once more. I picked myself up and
\nstared through the black archway into the gloom beyond.<\/p>\n
\ndawn had broken outside, and I could dimly see the long, curving sides
\nof several huge casks, which made me think that perhaps this was where
\nthe Mayor kept his reserves of wine while they were maturing. At any
\nrate, it seemed to be a safer hiding-place than the outer cellar, so
\ngathering up my candle, I was just closing the door behind me, when I
\nsuddenly saw something which filled me with amazement, and even, I
\nconfess, with the smallest little touch of fear.<\/p>\n
\nfan of light striking downwards from somewhere near the roof. Well, as I
\npeered through the darkness, I suddenly saw a great, tall man skip into
\nthis belt of daylight, and then out again into the darkness at the
\nfurther end. My word, I gave such a start that my shako nearly broke its
\nchin-strap! It was only a glance, but, none the less, I had time to see
\nthat the fellow had a hairy Cossack cap on his head, and that he was a
\ngreat, long-legged, broad-shouldered brigand, with a sabre at his waist.
\nMy faith, even Etienne Gerard was a little staggered at being left alone
\nwith such a creature in the dark.<\/p>\n
\nbrigadier, too, at the age of thirty-one, and the chosen messenger of
\nthe Emperor?’ After all, this skulker had more cause to be afraid of me
\nthan I of him. And then suddenly I understood that he was
\nafraid–horribly afraid. I could read it from his quick step and his
\nbent shoulders as he ran among the barrels, like a rat making for its
\nhole. And, of course, it must have been he who had held the door against
\nme, and not some packing-case or wine-cask as I had imagined. He was the
\npursued then, and I the pursuer. Aha, I felt my whiskers bristle as I
\nadvanced upon him through the darkness! He would find that he had no
\nchicken to deal with, this robber from the North. For the moment I was
\nmagnificent.<\/p>\n
\nmyself, but now, after cracking my shin over a box, and catching my
\nspurs in some canvas, I thought the bolder course the wiser. I lit it,
\ntherefore, and then I advanced with long strides, my sword in my hand.
\n‘Come out, you rascal!’ I cried. ‘Nothing can save you. You will at last
\nmeet with your deserts.’<\/p>\n
\nhead staring at me over a barrel. He had a gold chevron on his black
\ncap, and the expression of his face told me in an instant that he was an
\nofficer and a man of refinement.<\/p>\n
\npromise of quarter. But if I do not have your promise, I will then sell
\nmy life as dearly as I can.’<\/p>\n
\nYour life is safe.’ With that he handed his sword over the top of the
\nbarrel, and I bowed with the candle on my heart. ‘Whom have I the honour
\nof capturing?’ I asked.<\/p>\n
\n‘I came out with my troop to reconnoitre Senlis, and as we found no sign
\nof your people we determined to spend the night here.’<\/p>\n
\nyou came into the back cellar?’<\/p>\n
\ndawn. Feeling chilled after dressing, I thought that a cup of wine would
\ndo me no harm, so I came down to see what I could find. As I was
\nrummaging about, the house was suddenly carried by assault so rapidly
\nthat by the time I had climbed the stairs it was all over. It only
\nremained for me to save myself, so I came down here and hid myself in
\nthe back cellar, where you have found me.’<\/p>\n
\nthe tears sprang to my eyes as I contemplated the glory of France. Then
\nI had to consider what I should do next. It was clear that this Russian
\nCount, being in the back cellar while we were in the front one, had not
\nheard the sounds which would have told him that the house was once again
\nin the hands of his own allies. If he should once understand this the
\ntables would be turned, and I should be his prisoner instead of he being
\nmine. What was I to do? I was at my wits’ end, when suddenly there came
\nto me an idea so brilliant that I could not but be amazed at my own
\ninvention.<\/p>\n
\n‘but the difficulties are great.’<\/p>\n
\nespecially the Poles, are so incensed against the Cossacks that the mere
\nsight of the uniform drives them mad. They precipitate themselves
\ninstantly upon the wearer and tear him limb from limb. Even their
\nofficers cannot restrain them.’<\/p>\n
\ncannot promise how far I could protect you.’<\/p>\n
\ndo? Would it not be best that I should remain here?’<\/p>\n
\nwould be cut to pieces. No, no, I must go and break it to them. But even
\nthen, when once they see that accursed uniform, I do not know what may
\nhappen.’<\/p>\n
\nand put on mine. That will make you sacred to every French soldier.’<\/p>\n
\nwill ascend in your uniform. A hundred swords will be turned upon me.
\n“Hold!” I will shout, “I am the Brigadier Gerard!” Then they will see my
\nface. They will know me. And I will tell them about you. Under the
\nshield of these clothes you will be sacred.’<\/p>\n
\nand breeches were much like my own, so there was no need to change them,
\nbut I gave him my hussar jacket, my dolman, my shako, my sword-belt, and
\nmy sabre-tasche, while I took in exchange his high sheepskin cap with
\nthe gold chevron, his fur-trimmed coat, and his crooked sword. Be it
\nwell understood that in changing the tunics I did not forget to change
\nmy thrice-precious letter also from my old one to my new.<\/p>\n
\nnever to throw away chances, and how could I tell that he might not,
\nwhen my back was turned, see how the matter really stood, and break in
\nupon my plans? He was leaning against a barrel at the time, so I ran six
\ntimes round it with a rope, and then tied it with a big knot behind. If
\nhe wished to come upstairs he would, at least, have to carry a thousand
\nlitres of good French wine for a knapsack. I then shut the door of the
\nback cellar behind me, so that he might not hear what was going forward,
\nand tossing the candle away I ascended the kitchen stair.<\/p>\n
\nseemed to have time to think of everything that I had ever hoped to do.
\nIt was the same feeling that I had at Eylau when I lay with my broken
\nleg and saw the horse artillery galloping down upon me. Of course, I
\nknew that if I were taken I should be shot instantly as being disguised
\nwithin the enemy’s lines. Still, it was a glorious death–in the direct
\nservice of the Emperor–and I reflected that there could not be less
\nthan five lines, and perhaps seven, in the _Moniteur_ about me. Palaret
\nhad eight lines, and I am sure that he had not so fine a career.<\/p>\n
\nface and manner that I could assume, the very first thing that I saw was
\nBouvet’s dead body, with his legs drawn up and a broken sword in his
\nhand. I could see by the black smudge that he had been shot at close
\nquarters. I should have wished to salute as I went by, for he was a
\ngallant man, but I feared lest I should be seen, and so I passed on.<\/p>\n
\nloopholes in the wall, as though they expected that there might be yet
\nanother attack. Their officer, a little man, was running about giving
\ndirections. They were all too busy to take much notice of me, but
\nanother officer, who was standing by the door with a long pipe in his
\nmouth, strode across and clapped me on the shoulder, pointing to the
\ndead bodies of our poor hussars, and saying something which was meant
\nfor a jest, for his long beard opened and showed every fang in his head.
\nI laughed heartily also, and said the only Russian words that I knew. I
\nlearned them from little Sophie, at Wilna, and they meant: ‘If the night
\nis fine we shall meet under the oak tree, but if it rains we shall meet
\nin the byre.’ It was all the same to this German, however, and I have no
\ndoubt that he gave me credit for saying something very witty indeed, for
\nhe roared laughing, and slapped me on my shoulder again. I nodded to him
\nand marched out of the hall-door as coolly as if I were the commandant
\nof the garrison.<\/p>\n
\nbelonging to the Poles and hussars. Good little Violette was waiting
\nwith the others, and she whinnied when she saw me coming towards her.
\nBut I would not mount her. No. I was much too cunning for that. On the
\ncontrary, I chose the most shaggy little Cossack horse that I could see,
\nand I sprang upon it with as much assurance as though it had belonged to
\nmy father before me. It had a great bag of plunder slung over its neck,
\nand this I laid upon Violette’s back, and led her along beside me. Never
\nhave you seen such a picture of the Cossack returning from the foray. It
\nwas superb.<\/p>\n
\nside-walks and pointed me out to each other, saying, as I could judge
\nfrom their gestures, ‘There goes one of those devils of Cossacks. They
\nare the boys for foraging and plunder.’<\/p>\n
\nhead and smiled, and said, ‘If the night is fine we shall meet under the
\noak tree, but if it rains we shall meet in the byre,’ at which they
\nshrugged their shoulders and gave the matter up. In this way I worked
\nalong until I was beyond the northern outskirt of the town. I could see
\nin the roadway two lancer vedettes with their black and white pennons,
\nand I knew that when I was once past these I should be a free man once
\nmore. I made my pony trot, therefore, Violette rubbing her nose against
\nmy knee all the time, and looking up at me to ask how she had deserved
\nthat this hairy doormat of a creature should be preferred to her. I was
\nnot more than a hundred yards from the Uhlans when, suddenly, you can
\nimagine my feelings when I saw a real Cossack coming galloping along the
\nroad towards me.<\/p>\n
\nfor a man like me, who had gone through so many dangers and trials, only
\nat this very last moment to be confronted with one which appeared to put
\nan end to everything. I will confess that for a moment I lost heart, and
\nwas inclined to throw myself down in my despair, and to cry out that I
\nhad been betrayed. But, no; I was not beaten even now. I opened two
\nbuttons of my tunic so that I might get easily at the Emperor’s message,
\nfor it was my fixed determination when all hope was gone to swallow the
\nletter and then die sword in hand. Then I felt that my little, crooked
\nsword was loose in its sheath, and I trotted on to where the vedettes
\nwere waiting. They seemed inclined to stop me, but I pointed to the
\nother Cossack, who was still a couple of hundred yards off, and they,
\nunderstanding that I merely wished to meet him, let me pass with a
\nsalute.<\/p>\n
\nlancers I thought I might manage the Cossack without much difficulty. He
\nwas an officer, a large, bearded man, with a gold chevron in his cap,
\njust the same as mine. As I advanced he unconsciously aided me by
\npulling up his horse, so that I had a fine start of the vedettes. On I
\ncame for him, and I could see wonder changing to suspicion in his brown
\neyes as he looked at me and at my pony, and at my equipment. I do not
\nknow what it was that was wrong, but he saw something which was as it
\nshould not be. He shouted out a question, and then when I gave no answer
\nhe pulled out his sword. I was glad in my heart to see him do so, for I
\nhad always rather fight than cut down an unsuspecting enemy. Now I made
\nat him full tilt, and, parrying his cut, I got my point in just under
\nthe fourth button of his tunic. Down he went, and the weight of him
\nnearly took me off my horse before I could disengage. I never glanced at
\nhim to see if he were living or dead, for I sprang off my pony and on to
\nViolette, with a shake of my bridle and a kiss of my hand to the two
\nUhlans behind me. They galloped after me, shouting, but Violette had had
\nher rest, and was just as fresh as when she started. I took the first
\nside road to the west and then the first to the south, which would take
\nme away from the enemy’s country. On we went and on, every stride taking
\nme further from my foes and nearer to my friends. At last, when I
\nreached the end of a long stretch of road, and looking back from it
\ncould see no sign of any pursuers, I understood that my troubles were
\nover.<\/p>\n
\nto the letter what the Emperor had ordered. What would he say when he
\nsaw me? What could he say which would do justice to the incredible way
\nin which I had risen above every danger? He had ordered me to go through
\nSermoise, Soissons, and Senlis, little dreaming that they were all three
\noccupied by the enemy. And yet I had done it. I had borne his letter in
\nsafety through each of these towns. Hussars, dragoons, lancers,
\nCossacks, and infantry–I had run the gauntlet of all of them, and had
\ncome out unharmed.<\/p>\n
\noutposts. There was a troop of dragoons in a field, and of course I
\ncould see from the horsehair crests that they were French. I galloped
\ntowards them in order to ask them if all was safe between there and
\nParis, and as I rode I felt such a pride at having won my way back to my
\nfriends again, that I could not refrain from waving my sword in the air.<\/p>\n
\nbrandishing his sword, and it warmed my heart to think that he should
\ncome riding with such ardour and enthusiasm to greet me. I made
\nViolette caracole, and as we came together I brandished my sword more
\ngallantly than ever, but you can imagine my feelings when he suddenly
\nmade a cut at me which would certainly have taken my head off if I had
\nnot fallen forward with my nose in Violette’s mane. My faith, it
\nwhistled just over my cap like an east wind. Of course, it came from
\nthis accursed Cossack uniform which, in my excitement, I had forgotten
\nall about, and this young dragoon had imagined that I was some Russian
\nchampion who was challenging the French cavalry. My word, he was a
\nfrightened man when he understood how near he had been to killing the
\ncelebrated Brigadier Gerard.<\/p>\n
\nat St Denis, though it took me a long two hours to get from there to
\nParis, for the road was blocked with commissariat waggons and guns of
\nthe artillery reserve, which was going north to Marmont and Mortier. You
\ncannot conceive the excitement which my appearance in such a costume
\nmade in Paris, and when I came to the Rue de Rivoli I should think I had
\na quarter of a mile of folk riding or running behind me. Word had got
\nabout from the dragoons (two of whom had come with me), and everybody
\nknew about my adventures and how I had come by my uniform. It was a
\ntriumph–men shouting and women waving their handkerchiefs and blowing
\nkisses from the windows.<\/p>\n
\nthat, on this one occasion, I could not restrain myself from showing
\nthat this reception gratified me. The Russian’s coat had hung very loose
\nupon me, but now I threw out my chest until it was as tight as a
\nsausage-skin. And my little sweetheart of a mare tossed her mane and
\npawed with her front hoofs, frisking her tail about as though she said,
\n‘We’ve done it together this time. It is to us that commissions should
\nbe intrusted.’ When I kissed her between the nostrils as I dismounted at
\nthe gate of the Tuileries, there was as much shouting as if a bulletin
\nhad been read from the Grand Army.<\/p>\n
\nsoldierly figure one can do without all that. I was shown up straight
\naway to Joseph, whom I had often seen in Spain. He seemed as stout, as
\nquiet, and as amiable as ever. Talleyrand was in the room with him, or I
\nsuppose I should call him the Duke of Benevento, but I confess that I
\nlike old names best. He read my letter when Joseph Buonaparte handed it
\nto him, and then he looked at me with the strangest expression in those
\nfunny little, twinkling eyes of his.<\/p>\n
\nGrenadiers.’<\/p>\n
\nit,’ I remarked.<\/p>\n
\nsmile of his.<\/p>\n
\ngood deal more and yet have said too little. I bowed myself out, and
\nvery glad I was to get away, for I hate a Court as much as I love a
\ncamp. Away I went to my old friend Chaubert, in the Rue Miromesnil, and
\nthere I got his hussar uniform, which fitted me very well. He and
\nLisette and I supped together in his rooms, and all my dangers were
\nforgotten. In the morning I found Violette ready for another
\ntwenty-league stretch. It was my intention to return instantly to the
\nEmperor’s headquarters, for I was, as you may well imagine, impatient to
\nhear his words of praise, and to receive my reward.<\/p>\n
\nenough of Uhlans and Cossacks. I passed through Meaux and Ch\u00e2teau
\nThierry, and so in the evening I arrived at Rheims, where Napoleon was
\nstill lying. The bodies of our fellows and of St Prest’s Russians had
\nall been buried, and I could see changes in the camp also. The soldiers
\nlooked better cared for; some of the cavalry had received remounts, and
\neverything was in excellent order. It was wonderful what a good general
\ncan effect in a couple of days.<\/p>\n
\nroom. He was drinking coffee at a writing-table, with a big plan drawn
\nout on paper in front of him. Berthier and Macdonald were leaning, one
\nover each shoulder, and he was talking so quickly that I don’t believe
\nthat either of them could catch a half of what he was saying. But when
\nhis eyes fell upon me he dropped the pen on to the chart, and he sprang
\nup with a look in his pale face which struck me cold.<\/p>\n
\nhad a voice like a peacock.<\/p>\n
\ndelivered your despatch safely to the King of Spain.’<\/p>\n
\nthose dreadful eyes, shifting from grey to blue, like steel in the
\nsunshine. I can see them now when I have a bad dream.<\/p>\n
\nawarded to him.’<\/p>\n
\nawake.<\/p>\n
\nhave struck me, ‘you brain of a hare, what do you think that you were
\nsent upon this mission for? Do you conceive that I would send a really
\nimportant message by such a hand as yours, and through every village
\nwhich the enemy holds? How you came through them passes my
\ncomprehension; but if your fellow-messenger had had but as little sense
\nas you, my whole plan of campaign would have been ruined. Can you not
\nsee, coglione, that this message contained false news, and that it was
\nintended to deceive the enemy whilst I put a very different scheme into
\nexecution?’<\/p>\n
\nglared at me, I had to hold the back of a chair, for my mind was failing
\nme and my knees would hardly bear me up. But then I took courage as I
\nreflected that I was an honourable gentleman, and that my whole life had
\nbeen spent in toiling for this man and for my beloved country.<\/p>\n
\nspoke, ‘when you are dealing with a man like me you would find it wiser
\nto deal openly. Had I known that you had wished the despatch to fall
\ninto the hands of the enemy, I would have seen that it came there. As I
\nbelieved that I was to guard it, I was prepared to sacrifice my life for
\nit. I do not believe, sire, that any man in the world ever met with more
\ntoils and perils than I have done in trying to carry out what I thought
\nwas your will.’<\/p>\n
\nspirit as I could command I gave him an account of it all, of my dash
\nthrough Soissons, my brush with the dragoons, my adventure in Senlis, my
\nrencontre with Count Boutkine in the cellar, my disguise, my meeting
\nwith the Cossack officer, my flight, and how at the last moment I was
\nnearly cut down by a French dragoon. The Emperor, Berthier, and
\nMacdonald listened with astonishment on their faces. When I had finished
\nNapoleon stepped forward and he pinched me by the ear.<\/p>\n
\nwould have done better to trust you. You may go.’<\/p>\n
\ncalled upon me to stop.<\/p>\n
\nBrigadier Gerard has the special medal of honour, for I believe that if
\nhe has the thickest head he has also the stoutest heart in my army.’<\/p>\n