thrilled with passion.

'Very good, Colonel. You have said enough,' he cried, in a choking
voice. 'You say that you have had a very distinguished career. I promise
you also a very distinguished ending. Colonel Etienne Gerard of the
Third Hussars shall have a death of his own.'

'And I only beg,' said I, 'that you will not commemorate it in verse.' I
had one or two little ironies to utter, but he cut me short by a furious
gesture which caused my three guards to drag me from the cave.

Our interview, which I have told you as nearly as I can remember it,
must have lasted some time, for it was quite dark when we came out, and
the moon was shining very clearly in the heavens. The brigands had
lighted a great fire of the dried branches of the fir-trees; not, of
course, for warmth, since the night was already very sultry, but to cook
their evening meal. A huge copper pot hung over the blaze, and the
rascals were lying all round in the yellow glare, so that the scene
looked like one of those pictures which Junot stole out of Madrid. There
are some soldiers who profess to care nothing for art and the like, but
I have always been drawn towards it myself, in which respect I show my
good taste and my breeding. I remember, for example, that when Lefebvre
was selling the plunder after the fall of Danzig, I bought a very fine
picture, called 'Nymphs Surprised in a Wood,' and I carried it with me
through two campaigns, until my charger had the misfortune to put his
hoof through it.

I only tell you this, however, to show you that I was never a mere
rough soldier like Rapp or Ney. As I lay in that brigands' camp, I had
little time or inclination to think about such matters. They had thrown