The Adventures of Gerard

Chapter 7

How the Brigadier Bore Himself at Waterloo

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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

of, 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 where- ever{sic} 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.

"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 of 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 c****d 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 far 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 ere 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

an 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 daye{sic} 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.