第51章 How the Brigadier Bore Himself at Waterloo(7)

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, Imust 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 withcries 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 nowbefore 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.