to pieces, and seeing the two thousand prisoners he had taken,
together with the captured cannons and flags, Bonaparte recalled
the young man who had sprung in front of him when death alone
seemed before him.

"Berthier," said he, "tell my aide-de-camp, Valence, to find
that young lieutenant of grenadiers with whom I had a controversy
this morning at the Bridge of Arcola."

"General," stammered Berthier, "Valence is wounded."

"Ah! I remember I have not seen him to-day. Wounded? Where? How?
On the battlefield?"

"No, general," said he, "he was dragged into a quarrel yesterday,
and received a sword thrust through his body."

Bonaparte frowned. "And yet they know very well I do not approve
of duels; a soldier's blood belongs not to himself, but to France.
Give Muiron the order then."

"He is killed, general."

"To Elliot, in that case."

"Killed also."

Bonaparte drew his handkerchief from his pocket and passed it
over his brow, which was bathed with sweat.