he tells the story in his own way and from his own point of view.

You must know, my friends, said he, that it was toward the end of
the year eighteen hundred and ten that I and Massena and the
others pushed Wellington backward until we had hoped to drive him
and his army into the Tagus. But when we were still twenty-five
miles from Lisbon we found that we were betrayed, for what had
this Englishman done but build an enormous line of works and
forts at a place called Torres Vedras, so that even we were
unable to get through them! They lay across the whole Peninsula,
and our army was so far from home that we did not dare to risk a
reverse, and we had already learned at Busaco that it was no
child's play to fight against these people. What could we do,
then, but sit down in front of these lines and blockade them to
the best of our power? There we remained for six months, amid
such anxieties that Massena said afterward that he had not one
hair which was not white upon his body.

For my own part, I did not worry much about our situation, but I
looked after our horses, who were in much need of rest and green
fodder. For the rest, we drank the wine of the country and
passed the time as best we might. There was a lady at
Santarem--but my lips are sealed. It is the part of a gallant
man to say nothing, though he may indicate that he could say a
great deal.

One day Massena sent for me, and I found him in his tent with a
great plan pinned upon the table. He looked at me in silence
with that single piercing eye of his, and I felt by his
expression that the matter was serious. He was nervous and ill