Tom Burke Of Ours, Volume I

by Charles James Lever

  CHAPTER XLIV. THE CANTEEN.

  The Emperor returned that night to Elchingen, accompanied by a numerousstaff, among whom was the General d'Auvergne. I remember well thetoilsome ascent of the steep town, which, built on a cliff above theDanube, was now little better than a heap of ruins, from the assault ofNey's division two days before. Scrambling our way over fallen housesand massive fragments of masonry, we reached the square that forms thehighest point of the city; from thence we looked down upon the greatplain, with the majestic Danube winding along for miles. In the valleylay Ulm, now sad and silent: no watch-fires blazed along its desertedramparts, and through its open gates there streamed the idle tide ofsoldiers and camp followers, curious to see the place which once theyhad deemed almost impregnable. The quartier-general was establishedhere, and the different staffs disposed of themselves, as well as theywere able, throughout the houses near: most of these, indeed, had beendeserted by their inhabitants, whose dread of the French was a feelingministered to by every artifice in the power of the Austrian Government.As for me, I was but a young campaigner, and might from sheer ignorancehave passed my night in the open air, when by good fortune I caughtsight of my old companion, Pioche, hurrying along a narrow street,carrying a basket well stored with bottles on his arm.

  "Ah, mon lieutenant, you here! and not supped yet, I 'd wager a crown?"

  "You'd win it too, Pioche; nor do I see very great chance of my doingso."

  "Come along with me, sir; Mademoiselle Minette has just opened hercanteen in the flower-market. Such it was once, they tell me; but thereis little odor left there now, save such as contract powder gives.But no matter you 'll have a roast capon and sausages, and some of theAustrian wine; I have just secured half a dozen bottles here."

  I need scarcely say that this was an invitation there was no declining,and I joined the corporal at once, and hurried on to mademoiselle'squarters. We had not proceeded far, when the noise of voices speakingand singing in a loud tone announced that we were approaching thecanteen.

  "You hear them, mon lieutenant!" said Pioche, with a look of delight;"you hear the rogues. _Par Saint Jaaques_, they know where to makethemselves merry. Good wine for drinking, lodging for nothing, fire forthe trouble of lighting it, are brave inducements to enjoy life."

  "But it 's a canteen; surely mademoiselle is paid?"

  "Not the first night of a campaign, I suppose," said he, with a voiceof rebuke. "_Parbleu_! that would be a pretty affair! No, no; each manbrings what he can find, drinks what he is able, and leaves the rest;which, after all, is a very fair stock-in-trade to begin with. And sonow, mon lieutenant, to commence operations regularly, just sling thisham on your sabre over your shoulder, and take this turkey carelessly inyour hand,--that 's it. Here we are; follow me."

  Passing through an arched gateway, we entered a little courtyard whereseveral horses were picketed, the ground about them being strewnwith straw knee-deep; cavalry saddles, holsters, and sheepskins layconfusedly on every side, along with sabres and carbines; a great lamp,detached from its position over the street entrance, was suspended froma lance out of a window, and threw its light over the scene. Steppingcautiously through this chaotic heap, we reached a glass door, fromwithin which the riotous sounds were most audibly issuing. Pioche pushedit open, and we entered a large room, full fifty feet in length, at oneend of which, under a species of canopy, formed by two old regimentalcolors, sat Mademoiselle Minette,--for so I guessed to be a verypretty brunette, with a most decidedly Parisian look about her air andtoilette; a table, covered with a snow-white napkin, was in frontof her, on which lay a large bouquet and an open book, in which sheappeared to be writing as we came in. The room on either side wasfilled by small tables, around which sat parties drinking, card-playing,singing or quarrelling as it might be, with a degree of energy andvociferation only campaigning can give an idea of.

  The first thing which surprised me was, that all ranks in the serviceseemed confusedly mixed up together, there being no distinction of classwhatever; captains and corporals, sergeants, lieutenants, colonels, andtambourmajors, were inextricably commingled, hobnobbing, handshaking,and even kissing in turn, that most fraternal and familiar "tu" ofdearest friendship being heard on every side.

  Resisting a hundred invitations to join some party or other as he passedup the room, Pioche led me forward towards Mademoiselle Minette, topresent me in due form ere I took my place.

  The honest corporal, who would have charged a square without blinking,seemed actually to tremble as he came near the pretty vivandiere; andwhen, with a roguish twinkle of her dark eye, and a half smile on hersaucy lip, she said, "Ah, c'est toi, gros Pioche?" the poor fellow couldonly mutter a "Oui, Mademoiselle," in a voice scarce loud enough to beheard.

  "And monsieur," said she, "whom I have the honor to see?"

  "Is my lieutenant. Mademoiselle; or he is aide-de-camp of my general,which comes to the same thing."

  With a few words of gracious civility, well and neatly expressedmademoiselle welcomed me to the canteen, which, she said, had often beengraced by the presence of General d'Auvergne himself.

  "Yes, by Saint Denis!" cried Pioche, with energy; "Prince Murat, andMarechal Davoust, too, have been here."

  Dropping his voice to a whisper, he added something that called a faintblush to mademoiselle's cheek as she replied, "You think so, do you?"Then, turning to me, asked if I were not disposed to sup.

  "Yes, that he is," interrupted Pioche; "and here is the materiel;"--withwhich he displayed his pannier of bottles, and pointed to the spoilswhich, following his directions, I carried in my hands.

  The corporal having despatched the fowls to the kitchen, proceededto arrange a little table at a short distance from where mademoisellesat,--an arrangement, I could perceive, which called forth some ratherangry looks from those around the room, and I could overhear morethan one muttered Sacre! as to the ambitious pretensions of the "grosPioche."

  He himself paid little if any attention to these signs of discontent,but seemed wholly occupied in perfecting the table arrangements, whichhe did with the skill and despatch of a tavern waiter.

  "Here, mon lieutenant, this is your place," said he, with a bow, as heplaced a chair for me at the head of the board; and then, with a politeobeisance to the lady, he added, "Avec permission, Mademoiselle," andtook his own seat at the side.

  A very appetizing dish made its appearance at this moment; andnotwithstanding my curiosity to watch the proceedings of the party, andmy admiration for mademoiselle herself, hunger carried the day, and Iwas soon too deeply engaged in the discussion of my supper to pay muchattention to aught else. It was just then that, forgetting where I was,and unmindful that I was not enjoying the regular fare of an inn, Icalled out, as if to the waiter, for "bread." A roar of laughter ranthrough the room at my mistake, when a dark-whiskered little fellow, inan undress frock, stuck his small sword into a loaf, and handed it to mefrom the table where he sat.

  There was something in the act which rather puzzled me, and might havecontinued longer to do so, had not Pioche whispered me in a low voice,"Take it, take it."

  I reached out my hand for the purpose, when, just as I had caught theloaf, with a slight motion of his wrist he disengaged the point of theweapon, and gave me a scratch on the back of my hand. The gesture I madecalled forth a renewed peal of laughing; and I now perceived, from thelittle man's triumphant look at his companions, that the whole thing wasintended as an insult. Resolving, however, to go quietly in the matter,I held out my hand when it was still bleeding, and said,--

  "You perceive, sir?"

  "Ah, an accident, _morbleu!_, said he, with a careless shrug of hisshoulders, and a half leer of impertinent indifference.

  "So is this also," replied I, as, springing up, I seized the sword hewas returning to its scabbard, and smashed the blade across my knee.

  "Well done, well done!" cried twenty voices in a breath; while thewhole room rose in a confused manlier to take one side or other inthe contest, se
veral crowding around the little man, whose voice hadsuddenly lost its tone of easy impertinence, and was now heard swearingaway, with the most guttural intonation.

  "What kind of swordsman are you?" whispered Pioche, in my ear.

  "Sufficiently expert to care little for an enemy of his caliber."

  "Ah, you don't know that," replied he; "it's Francois, the maitred'armes of the Fourth."

  "You must not fight him, Monsieur," said mademoiselle, as she laid herhand on mine, and looked up into my face with a most expressive glance.

  "They are waiting for you without, mon lieutenant," said an oldsergeant-major, touching his cap as he spoke.

  "Come along," said Pioche, with a deeply-muttered oath; "and, by theblood of Saint Louis, it shall be the last time Maitre Francois showshis skill in fence, if I cost them the fire of a platoon to-morrow."

  I was hurried along by the crowd to the court, a hundred differentadvisers whispering their various counsels in my ears as I went.

  "Take care of his lunge in tierce,--mind that," cried one.

  "Push him outside the arm,--outside, remember; take my advice, youngman," said an old sous-officier,--"close on him at once, take his pointwhere he gives it, and make sure of your own weapon."

  "No bad plan either," cried two or three. "Monsieur Auguste is right;Francois can't bear the cold steel, and if he sees it close, he loseshis head altogether."

  The courtyard was already cleared for action; the horses picketed in onecorner, the straw removed, and a blaze of light from all the lamps andcandles of the supper-room showed the ground as clearly as at noonday.While my antagonist was taking off his coat and vest,--an operationI did not choose to imitate,--I took a rapid survey of the scene,and notwithstanding the rush of advisers around me, was sufficientlycollected to decide on my mode of acting.

  "Come, mon lieutenant, off with your frock," said an officer at my side;"even if you don't care for the advantage of a free sword-arm, thosefellows yonder won't believe it all fair, if you do not strip."

  "Yes, yes, take it off," said a fellow in the crowd, "your fineepaulettes may as well escape tarnishing; and that new coat, too, willbe all the better without a hole in it."

  I hastily threw off my coat and waistcoat, when the crowd fell back, andthe maitre d'armes advancing into the open space with a light and nimblestep, cried out, "En garde, Monsieur!" I stood my ground, and crossed mysword with his.

  For a few seconds I contented myself with merely observing my adversary,who handled his weapon not only with all the skill of an accomplishedswordsman, but with a dexterity that showed me he was playing off hisart before his companions.

  As if to measure his distance, he made two or three slight passes overthe guard of my sword, and then grating his blade against mine with thatpeculiar motion which bodes attack, he fixed his eyes on mine, to drawoff my attention from his intended thrust. The quickness and facilitywith which his weapon changed from side to side of mine, the easy motionof his wrist, and the rigid firm ness of his arm, all showed me I wasno match for him,--although one of the best of my day at the militaryschool,--and I did not venture to proceed beyond mere defence. He sawthis, and by many a trick endeavored to induce an attack,--now droppinghis point carelessly, to address a monosyllable to a friend near; nowthrowing open his guard, as if from negligence.

  At length, as if tired with waiting, he called out, "_Que cela finisse!_"and rushed in on me.

  Tom masters the "Maitre d'Armes"]

  The rapidity of the assault, for a second or so, completely overcame me;and though I defended myself mechanically, I could neither follow hisweapon with my eye nor anticipate his intended thrust. Twice his pointtouched my sword-arm above the wrist, and by a slight wound there, savedmy lungs from being pierced. At last, after a desperate rally, in whichhe broke in on my guard, he made a fearful lunge at my chest. I bentforward, and received his blade in the muscles of my back, when, with awheel round, I smashed the sword in me, and buried my own up to the hiltin his body. He fell bathed in blood; and I, staggering backwards, wascaught in Pioche's arms at the moment when all consciousness was fastleaving me.

  A few minutes after I came to myself, and found that I was lying ona heap of straw in the yard, while two regimental surgeons were mostindustriously engaged in trying to stop the hemorrhage of my wounds.

  With little interest in my own fate, I could not help feeling anxiousabout my antagonist. They shook their heads mournfully in reply to myquestion, and desired me to be as calm as possible, for my life hung ona very thread. The dressing completed, I was carried into the house, andlaid on a bed in a small, neat-looking chamber, which I heard, as theycarried me along, mademoiselle had kindly placed at my disposal. Sheherself assisted to place the pillow beneath my head, and then withnoiseless gesture closed the curtains of the window, and took her seatat the bedside.

  The moment the others had left the room, I turned to ask for' the maitred'armes. But she could only say that his companions of the Fourth hadcarried him away to the ambulance, refusing all offers of aid exceptfrom the surgeons of their own corps.

  "They say," added she, with a naive simplicity, "that Francois is notmade like other folk, and that the only doctors who understand him arein the Fourth Regiment. However that may be, it will puzzle them sadlythis time; you have given him his _coup de conge_."

  "I hope not, sincerely," said I, with a shudder.

  "And why not?" cried mademoiselle, in astonishment. "Is it not a goodservice you render to the whole brigade? Would not the division be allthe happier if such as he, and Pichot, and the rest of them--"

  "Pichot,--Amedee Pichot?"

  "Yes, Amedee Pichot, to be sure. But what's that knocking outside? Ah,there 's Pioche at the window!"

  Mademoiselle arose and walked towards the door; but before she reachedit, it was opened, and General d'Auvergne entered the room.

  "Is he here?" asked he, in a low voice.

  "Yes, General," said mademoiselle, with a courtesy, as she placed thechair for him to sit down. "He is much better. I 'll wait outside tillyou want me," added she, as she left the room and closed the door.

  "Come, come, my boy," said the kind old man, as he took my hand in his,"don't give way thus. I have made many inquiries about this affair,and they all tend to exculpate you. This fellow Francois is the _mauvaisetete_ of the regiment, and I only wish his chastisement had come fromsome other hand than yours."

  "Will he live. General?" asked I, with a smothering fulness in my throatas I uttered the words.

  "Not if he be mortal, I believe. The sword pierced his chest from sideto side."

  I groaned heavily as I heard these words; and burying my head beneaththe clothes, became absorbed in my grief. What would I not have enduredthen of insult and contumely, rather than suffer the terrible load uponmy conscience of a fellow-creature's blood, shed in passion and revenge!How willingly would I have accepted the most despised position among mento be void of this crime!

  "It matters not," cried I, in my despair--"it matters not how I guide mypath, misfortunes beset me at every turn of the way--"

  "Speak not thus," said the general, sternly. "The career you haveembarked in is a stormy and a rough one. Other men have fared worsethan you have in it,--and without repining too. You knew of one suchyourself, who in all the saddest bereavements of his hopes cherished asoldier's heart and a soldier's courage."

  The allusion to my poor friend, Charles de Meudon, brought the tearsto my eyes, and I felt that all my sufferings were little compared withhis.

  "Let your first care be to get well as soon as you can: happily yourname may escape the Emperor's notice in this affair by appearing in thelist of wounded; our friend the maitre d'armes is not likely to discoveron you. The campaign is begun, however, and you must try to take yourshare of it. The Emperor's staff starts for Munich to-morrow. I mustaccompany them; but I leave you in good hands here, and this detachmentwill occupy Elchingen at least ten days longer."

  Scarcely had the general l
eft me when mademoiselle re-entered the room.

  "So Monsieur," said she, smiling archly, "you have been left in my care,it seems. Morbleu! it's well the vivandiere of the regiment is not aprude, or I should scarcely know how to act. Well, well, one can only doone's best. And now, shall I read for you, or shall I leave you quietfor an hour or two?"

  "Just so; leave him alone for a little while," said a gruff voicefrom the end of the bed, at the same time that the huge beard and redmustache of Pioche appeared peeping above the curtain.

  "Is he not stupid, that great animal of a cuirassier?" saidmademoiselle, starting at the voice so unexpectedly heard. "I say, moncaporal, right face,--march. Do you hear, sir? You 've got the feuille deroute; what do you stay for?"

  "Ah, Mademoiselle!" said the poor fellow, as he smoothed down hishair on his forehead, and looked the very impersonation of sheepishadmiration.

  "Well?" replied she, as if not understanding his appeal to herfeelings--"well?"

  A look of total embarrassment, an expression of complete bewilderment,was his only reply; while his eyes wandered round the room till they metmine; and then, as if suddenly conscious that a third party was present,he blushed deeply, and said,--

  "Too true, mon lieutenant; she does with me what she will."

  "Don't believe him. Monsieur," interposed she, quickly. "I told him toget knocked on the head a dozen times, and he 's never done so."

  "I would though, and right soon too, if you were only in earnest," saidhe, with a vehemence that bespoke the truth of the assertion.

  "There, there," said she, with a smile, as she held out her hand to him;"we are friends."

  The poor fellow pressed it to his lips with the respectful devotion of aBayard; and with a muttered "This evening," left the room.

  "It is no small triumph, Mademoiselle," said I, "that you have inspiredsuch a passion in the hardy breast of the cuirassier."

  A saucy shake of the head, as though she did not like the compliment,was the only reply. She bent her head down over her work, and seemedabsorbed in its details; while I, reverting to my own cares, becamesilent also.

  "And so, Monsieur," said she, after a long pause--"and so you deemthis conquest of mine a very wonderful thing?"

  "You mistake me," said I, eagerly,--"you mistake me much. My surprisewas rather that one like Pioche, good-hearted, simple fellow as he is,should possess the refinement of feeling--"

  Minnet_and_Pioche]

  "A clever flank movement of yours. Lieutenant," interposed she, with apleasant laugh; "and I'll not attack you again. And, after all, I am alittle proud of my conquest."

  "The confession is a flattering one, from one who doubtless has had agreat many to boast of."

  "A great many, indeed!" replied she, naively; "so many, that I can'treckon them,--not to boast of, however, as you term it. _Par bleu!_ someof them had little of that--But here comes the doctor, and I must notlet him see us talking. _Ma foi_, they little think when their backs areturned how seldom we mind their directions!"

  The surgeon's visit was a matter of a few seconds; he contented himselfwith feeling my pulse and reiterating his advice as to quiet.

  "You have got the best nurse in the army. Monsieur," said he, as hetook his leave. "I have only one caution to give you,--take care if anaffection of the heart be not a worse affair than a thrust of a smallsword. I have known such a termination of an illness before now."

  Mademoiselle made no reply save an arch look of half anger, and left theroom; and I, wearied and exhausted, sank into a heavy slumber.

  CHAPTER XLV. THE "VIVANDIERE OF THE FOURTH"

  Von three entire weeks my wound confined me to the limits of mY chamber;and Yet, were it not for my impatience to be up and stirring, mY lifewas not devoid of happiness.

  Every movement of the army, in its most minute detail, was dailyreported to me by Mademoiselle Minette. The bulletins of the Emperor,the promotions, the _on dits_ of the bivouac and the march, broughtby the various battalions, as they moved on towards the east, were allrelated by her with such knowledge of military phrase and soldiers'style as to amuse me, equally by her manner as by what she told.

  The cuirassiers marched soon after I received my wound, and thoughattached to the corps, she remained behind at Elchingen, having pledgedherself, as she said, to the general, to restore me safe and soundbefore she left me. The little window beside my bed offered awidely-extended view over the great plain beneath; and there I have satthe entire day, watching the columns of cavalry and infantry as theypoured along, seemingly without ceasing, towards the Lower Danube.Sometimes the faint sounds of the soldiers' songs would reachme,--the rude chorus of a regiment timing their step to some warrior'schant,--and set my heart a beating to be with them once more; sometimesmy eye would rest upon the slow train of wagons, surmounted with a whiteflag, that wound their way heavily in the rear, and my spirit sank as Ithought over the poor wounded fellows that were thus borne onward withthe tide of war, as the crushed serpent trails his wounded folds behindhim.

  Mademoiselle seldom left me. Seated at her work, often for hours withoutspeaking, she would follow the train of her own thoughts, and whenby chance she gave a passing glance through the window at the scenebeneath, some single word would escape her as to the regiments or theirofficers, few of which were unknown to her, at least by reputation.

  I could not but mark, that within the last twelve or fourteen days sheseemed more sad and depressed than before; the lively gayety of hercharacter had given place to a meek and suffering melancholy, which Icould not help attributing to the circumstances in which she was placed,away from all her ordinary pursuits and the companions of her dailylife. I hinted as much one day, and was about to insist on her leavingme, when she suddenly interrupted me, saying,--

  "It is all true. I am sad, and know not why, for I never felt happier;yet, if you wished me to be gay as I used to be, I could not for theworld. It is not because I am far from those I have learned to look onas my brothers; not so, my changeful fortune has often placed me thus.Perhaps it's your fault, mon lieutenant," said she, suddenly, turningher eyes full upon me.

  "Mine, Minette,--mine!" said I, in amazement.

  She blushed deeply, and held down her head, while her bosom heavedseveral times convulsively; and then, while a deathly paleness spreadover her cheek, she said, in a low, broken voice,--

  "Perhaps it is because I am an orphan, and never knew what it was tohave those whose dispositions I should imitate, and whose tastesI should study; but somehow I feel even as though I could not helpbecoming like those I am near to,--following them, ay, and outstrippingthem, in all their likings and dislikings."

  "And so, as you seem sad and sorrowful, it is more than probable thatyou took the color of my thoughts. I should feel sorry, Minette, tothink it were thus; I should ill repay all your kindness to me. I musttry and wear a happier countenance."

  "Do so, and mine will soon reflect it," said she, laughing. "But,perhaps, you have cause for sorrow," added she, as she stole a glance atme beneath her eyelashes.

  "You know, Minette, that I am an orphan like yourself," said I, halfevading the question.

  "Ah!" cried she, passionately, "if I had been a man, I should like to besuch a one as Murat there. See how his black eyes sparkle, and his proudlip curls, when the roll of artillery or the clattering of a platoon isheard! how his whole soul is in the fight! I remember once--it was atthe Iser--his brigade was stationed beneath the hill, and had no ordersto move forward for several hours. He used to get off his horse and walkabout, and endeavor, by pushing the smoke away, thus, with his hand, andalmost kneeling to the ground, to catch a view of the battle; and thenhe would spring into the saddle, and for sheer passion dash the spursinto his horse's flank, till he reared and plunged again. I watched himthus for hours. I loved to look on him, chafing and fretting like hisown mettled charger, he was so handsome! 'A drink, Minette! Somethingto cool my lips, for Heaven's sake,' said he, at last, as he saw mestanding near him. I filled the
little cup you see here with wine,and handed it to him. Scarcely had he raised it to his lips, when anaide-decamp galloped up, and whispered some words in haste.

  "'Ha, ha!' cried he, with a shout of joy; 'they want us, then! Thesquadrons will advance by sections, and charge!--charge!' And withthat he flung the goblet from him to the ground; and when I took it up Ifound that with the grasp of his strong fingers he had crushed it nearlytogether: see here! I never would let it be changed; it is just as atthe time he clasped it, and I kept it as a souvenir of the prince."

  She took from a little shelf the cup, as she spoke, and held it upbefore me with the devoted admiration with which some worshipper wouldregard a holy relic.

  "And that," said Minette, as she pressed to her lips a faded cockade,whose time-worn tints still showed the tricolored emblems of theRepublic--"that do I value above the cross of the Legion itself."

  "Whose was it, Minette? Some brave soldier's, I'm sure."

  "And you may be sure. That was the cockade of Le Premier Grenadier de laFrance,--La Tour d'Auvergne, the cousin of your own general."

  Seeing that I had not heard before of him, she paused for a few secondsin amazement, and then muttered, "A brave school to train the youthof France it must be where the name of La Tour d' Auvergne was nevermentioned!"

  Having thus vented her indignation, she proceeded to tell me of herhero, who, though descended from one of the most distinguished familiesof France, yet persisted in carrying his musket in the ranks of theRepublican army, never attaining to a higher grade, nor known by anyother title than the "Premier Grenadier de la France." Foremost in everypost of danger, the volunteer at every emergency of more than ordinaryperil, he refused every proffer of advancement, and lived among hiscomrades the simple life of a soldier.

  "He fell at Neuburg," said mademoiselle, "scarce a day's march fromhere; they buried him on the field, and placed him dead, as he had beenever while living, with his face towards the enemy. And you never heardof him? _Juste Ciel!_ it is almost incredible. You never brigaded withthe Forty-fifth of the line; that 's certain."

  "And why so?"

  "Because they call his name at every parade muster as though he werestill alive and well. The first man called is La Tour d' Auvergne, andthe first soldier answers, 'Mort sur le champ de bataille.' That 's aprouder monument than your statues and tombstones--is it not?"

  "Indeed it is," said I, to whom the anecdote was then new, though Iafterwards lived to hear it corroborated in every respect.

  With many such traits of the service did mademoiselle beguile thetime,--now telling of the pleasant life of the cantonment; now of thewild scenes of the battlefield. Young as she was, she had seen much ofboth, and learned around the bivouac fires the old traditions of theRevolutionary armies, and the brave deeds of the first veterans ofFrance. In such narratives, too, her own enthusiastic nature burstforth in all its vehemence: her eyes would sparkle, and her words comerapidly, as she described some fierce attack or headlong charge; and itwas impossible to listen without catching up a portion of her ardor, sowrapped up did she herself become in the excitement of her story.

  Thus one evening, while describing the passage of the Adige, afterdetailing most circumstantially the position and strength of theattacking columns, and describing how each successive advance wasrepulsed by the murderous fire of the artillery, she proceeded to relatethe plan of a flank movement, effected by some light infantry regimentthrown across the river a considerable distance up the stream.

  "We came along," said she, "under the shade of some willows, and at lastreached the ford. The leading companies halted; two officers sounded theriver, and found that it was passable. I was close by at the time. Itwas the Colonel Lajolais who commanded the brigade, and he asked me fora goutte.

  "'It may be the last you 'll ever give me, Minette,' said he; 'I don'texpect to see you again.'

  "'Are you going to remain at this side, Colonel?' said I.

  "'No, _parbleu!_' said he, 'not when the Twenty-second cross to theother.'

  "'Neither am I, then,' said I; 'my place is with the head of thebattalion.'

  "Well, well; they all pressed me to stay back; they said a thousandkind things too. But that only decided me the more to go on; and as thesignal rocket was fired, the word was given, and on we went. For thefirst eight or ten paces it was mere wading; but suddenly a grenadier inthe front called out, _Gare!_ lift your muskets; it's deep here.' And soit was. With one plunge down I went; but they seized me by the arms andcarried me along, and some way or other we reached the bank. _Morbleu!_I felt half drowned. But there was little time to think over thesethings, for scarcely had the column formed when the cry of 'Cavalry!'was given, and down came the lancers with a swoop. But we were allready. The flank companies fell back, and formed in square, and atremendous volley sent them off faster than they came.

  "'Now, then, push forward double quick!' said the old colonel; 'the _pasde charge!_, Alas! the poor little drummer was lying dead at his feet.The thought suddenly seized me; I sprang forward, unstrung his drum,threw the strap over my shoulder, and beat the _pas de charge_! A cheerran along the whole battalion, and on we went. _Mort de ceil!_ I wasnever so near the fire before. There was the enemy, scarce two hundredyards off,--two great columns, with artillery between,--waiting for us.'Keep her back! keep back, Minette, _brave fille!_' I heard no more; a shotcame whizzing past, and struck me here."

  She pulled down her dress as she spoke, and disclosed the scar of abullet's track on her white shoulder; then, as if suddenly recollecting,she blushed deeply, drew her kerchief closely around her, and mutteredin a low voice,--

  "_Ma foi_, how these things make one forget to be a woman!" And withthat she hung down her head, and despite all I could say would not utteranother word.

  Such was the vivandiere of the Fourth: blending in her character thewoman's weakness and the soldier's ardor; the delicacy of feeling, whichnot even the life of camps and bivouacs could eradicate, with the wildenthusiasm for glory,--the passion of her nation. It needed not her darkeyes, shaded with their long black fringe; her oval face, whose frecklesbut displayed the transparent skin beneath; her graceful figure and herelastic step,--to make her an object of attraction in the regiment.Nor could I be surprised to learn, as I did, how many a high offerof marriage had been made to her by those soldiers of fortune whosegallantry and daring had won them honors in the service.

  To value at their real price such attractions, one should meet them faraway, and remote from the ordinary habits of the world: in the wild,reckless career of the camp; on the long march; beside the wearywatchfire; ay, on the very field of battle,--amid the din, the clamor,and the smoke,--the cheers, the cries of carnage. Then, indeed, such anapparition had something magical in it. To see that tender girl trippingalong fearlessly from rank to rank as though she had a charmed life, nowsaluting with her hand some brave soldier as he rode by to the charge,now stooping beside the wounded, and holding to his bloodless lips thelonged-for cup; to watch her as she rode gracefully at the head of theregiment, or lay beside the fire of the bivouac, relating with a woman'sgrace some story of the campaign, while the gray-bearded veteran and theraw youth hung on each word, and wondered how the scenes in which theymingled and acted could bear such interest when told by rosy lips,--whowould wonder if she had many lovers? Who would not rather be surprisedat those who remained coldly indifferent to such charms as hers?

  Let my confession, then, excite neither astonishment nor suspicion, whenI acknowledge, that in such companionship the days slipped rapidly over.I never wearied of hearing her tell of the scenes she had witnessed, nordid she of recounting them; and although a sense of reproach used nowand then to cross me for the life of inactivity and indolence I wasleading. Mademoiselle Minette promised me many a brave opportunity ofdistinction to come, and campaigns of as great glory as even those ofItaly and Egypt.

  END OF VOL. I.

 
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