Next morning it was my turn, for I was the only aide- de-camp
left. I was his favourite aide-de-camp. His heart went out
always to a smart soldier. I declare that I think there were
tears in his black eyes when he sent for me that morning.

"Gerard," said he. "Come here!"

With a friendly gesture he took me by the sleeve and he led me to
the open window which faced the east. Beneath us was the
infantry camp, and beyond that the lines of the cavalry with the
long rows of picketed horses.

We could see the French outposts, and then a stretch of open
country, intersected by vineyards. A range of hills lay beyond,
with one well-marked peak towering above them. Round the base of
these hills was a broad belt of forest. A single road ran white
and clear, dipping and rising until it passed through a gap in
the hills.

"This," said Massena, pointing to the mountain, "is the Sierra de
Merodal. Do you perceive anything upon the top?"

I answered that I did not.

"Now?" he asked, and he handed me his field-glass.

With its aid I perceived a small mound or cairn upon the crest.

"What you see," said the Marshal, "is a pile of logs which was
placed there as a beacon. We laid it when the country was in our