[Frontispiece: The Little Countess takes Arms for Her Defence. ]

THE EAGLE OF THE EMPIRE

A STORY OF WATERLOO

By CYRUS TOWNSEND BRADY

AUTHOR OF

 "The Island of Regeneration, " "The Island of the Stairs, " "Britton of the Seventh, " Etc. 

With Frontispiece

By THE KINNEYS

A. L. BURT COMPANY

Publishers

New York

Published by Arrangements with GEORGE H. DORAN COMPANY

Copyright, 1915, By GEORGE H. DORAN COMPANY

DEDICATION

Dedications have gone out of vogue save with the old fashioned. Theancient idea of an appeal to a patron has been eliminated from modernliterature. If a man now inscribes a book to any one it is that he mayassociate with his work the names of friends he loves and delights tohonor. There is always a certain amount of assurance in any suchdedication, the assurance lying in the assumption that there is honorto the recipient in the association with the book. Well, there is nomistaking the purpose anyway. 

One of my best friends, and that friendship has been proved in war andpeace, at home and abroad, is a Bank! The Bank is like Mercy in moreways than one, but particularly in that it is twice blessed; it isblessed in what it receives, I hope, and in what it gives, I know. From the standpoint of the depositor sometimes it is better to receivethan to give. It has been so in my case and I have been able topersuade the Bank to that way of thinking. 

Therefore, in grateful acknowledgment of the very present help it hasbeen to me in time of need and in public recognition of many courtesiesfrom its officers and directors, and as some evidence of my deepappreciation of its many kindnesses to me, I dedicate this book to

THE MOUNT VERNON TRUST COMPANY

of

MOUNT VERNON, NEW YORK

PREFACE

The Battle of Waterloo, which was fought just one hundred years ago andwith which the story in this book ends, is popularly regarded as one ofthe decisive battles of the world, particularly with reference to thecareer of the greatest of all Captains. Personally some study has ledme to believe that Bautzen was really the decisive battle of theNapoleonic wars. If the Emperor had there won the overwhelming victoryto which his combinations and the fortunes of war entitled him he wouldstill have retained his Empire. Whether he would have been satisfiedor not is another question; and anyway as I am practically alone amongstudents and critics in my opinions about Bautzen they can bedismissed. And that he lost that battle was his own fault anyway!

However Napoleon's genius cannot be denied any more than his failure. In this book I have sought to show him at his best and also almost athis worst. For sheer brilliance, military and mental, the campaigningin France in 1814 could not be surpassed. He is there with his rawrecruits, his beardless boys, his old guard, his tactical andstrategical ability, his furious energy, his headlong celerity and hismarvelous power of inspiration; just as he was in Italy when herevolutionized the art of war and electrified the world. Many of thesequalities are in evidence in the days before Waterloo, but during theactual battle upon which his fate and the fate of the world turned, thetired, broken, ill man is drowsily nodding before a farmhouse by theroad, while Ney, whose superb and headlong courage was not accompaniedby any corresponding military ability, wrecks the last grand army. 

And there is no more dramatic an incident in all history, I believe, than Napoleon's advance on the Fifth-of-the-line drawn up on theGrenoble Road on the return from Elba. 

Nor do the Roman Eagles themselves seem to have made such romanticappeal or to have won such undying devotion as the Eagles of the Empire. 

This story was written just before the outbreak of the present Europeanwar and is published while it is in full course. Modern commanderswield forces beside which even the great Army of the Nations thatinvaded Russia is scarcely more than a detachment, and battles last fordays, weeks, even months--Waterloo was decided in an afternoon!--yetwar is the same. If there be any difference it simply grows morehorrible. The old principles, however, are unchanged, and over thefields upon which Napoleon marched and fought, armies are marching andfighting in practically the same way to-day. And great Captains arestill studying Frederick, Wellington and Bonaparte as they have everdone. 

The author modestly hopes that this book may not only entertain by thelove story, the tragic yet happily ended romance within its pages--forthere is romance here aside from the great Captain and hisexploits--but that in a small way it may serve to set forth not so muchthe brilliance and splendor and glory of war as the horror of it. 

We are frightfully fascinated by war, even the most peaceable andpeace-loving of us. May this story help to convey to the reader someof the other side of it; the hunger, the cold, the weariness, thesuffering, the disaster, the despair of the soldier; as well as thelove and the joy and the final happiness of the beautiful Laure and thebrave Marteau to say nothing of redoubtable old Bal-Arrêt, theBullet-Stopper--whose fates were determined on the battlefield amid theclash of arms. 

CYRUS TOWNSEND BRADY. 

 THE HEMLOCKS, EDGECLIFF TERRACE, PARK-HILL-ON-HUDSON. YONKERS, N. Y. 

EPIPHANY-TIDE, 1915. 

CONTENTS

 PROLOGUE VIVE L'EMPEREUR

 BOOK I: THE EMPEROR AT BAY

Chapter

 I. BEARERS OF EVIL TIDINGS II. THE EMPEROR DREAMS III. THE ARMY MARCHES AWAY IV. MARTEAU AND BAL-ARRÊT RIDE V. WHEN THE COSSACKS PASSED VI. MARTEAU BARGAINS FOR THE WOMAN VII. A RESCUE AND A SIEGE VIII. A TRIAL OR ALLEGIANCE IX. THE EMPEROR EATS AND RIDES X. HOW MARTEAU WON THE CROSS XI. AN EMPEROR AND A GENTLEMAN XII. AN ALLIANCE DECLINED XIII. THE THUNDERBOLT STROKE XIV. THE HAMMER OF THE WAR GOD

 BOOK II: THE EAGLE'S FLIGHT

 XV. THE BRIDGE AT ARCIS XVI. THE GATE IN THE WALL XVII. A VETERAN OF THE ARMY OF ITALY XVIII. ALMOST A GENTLEMAN XIX. THE GREAT HONOR ROLL XX. WHEN THE VIOLETS BLOOM AGAIN XXI. LIKE A THIEF IN THE NIGHT XXII. IN THE COUNTESS LAURE'S BED-CHAMBER XXIII. THE MARQUIS GRANTS AN INTERVIEW XXIV. ON THE WHOLE DEATH MAY BE BETTER THAN LIFE XXV. NOT EVEN LOVE CAN FIND A WAY XXVI. THEY MEET A LION IN THE WAY XXVII. COMRADE! GENERAL! EMPEROR!

 BOOK III: THE LAST TRY

 XXVIII. AT THE STAMP OF THE EMPEROR'S FOOT XXIX. WATERLOO--THE FINAL REVIEW XXX. WATERLOO--THE CHARGE OF D'ERLON XXXI. WATERLOO--THE LAST OF THE GUARD XXXII. AT LAST THE EAGLE AND THE WOMAN

PROLOGUE

VIVE L'EMPEREUR

The weatherworn Château d'Aumenier stands in the midst of a noble parkof trees forming part of an extensive domain not far to the northwestof the little town of Sézanne, in the once famous county of Champagne, in France. The principal room of the castle is a great hall in theoldest part of the venerable pile which dates back for eight hundredyears, or to the tenth century and the times of the famous Count Eudeshimself, for whom it was held by one of his greatest vassals. 

The vast apartment is filled with rare and interesting mementos of itsdistinguished owners, including spoils of war and trophies of thechase, acquired in one way or another in the long course of theirhistory, and bespeaking the courage, the power, the ruthlessness, and, sometimes, the unscrupulousness of the hard-hearted, heavy-handed line. Every country in Europe and every age, apparently, has been levied uponto adorn this great hall, with its long mullioned windows, its enormousfireplace, its huge carved stone mantel, its dark oak paneled walls andbeamed ceiling. But, the most interesting, the most precious of allthe wonderful things therein has a place of honor to itself at the endfarthest from the main entrance. 

Fixed against this wall is a broken staff, or pole, surmounted by asmall metallic figure. The staff is fastened to the wall by clamps oftempered steel which are further secured by delicate locks of skillfuland intricate workmanship. The pole is topped by the gilded effigy ofan eagle. 

In dimensions the eagle is eight inches high, from head to feet, andnine and a half inches wide, from wing tip to wing tip. Heraldically, "_Un Aigle Éployé_" it would be called. That is, an eagle in the actof taking flight--in the vernacular, a "spread eagle. " The eagle looksto the left, with its wings half expanded. In its talons it grasps athunderbolt, as in the old Roman standard. Those who have everwandered into the Monastery of the Certosa, at Milan, have seen justsuch an eagle on one of the tombs of the great Visconti family. For, in truth, this emblem has been modeled after that one. 

Below the thunderbolt is a tablet of brass, three inches square, onwhich is a raised number. In this instance, the number is five. Thecopper of which the eagle is molded was originally gilded, but in itspresent battered condition much of the gilt has been worn off, or shotoff, and the original material is plainly discernible. If it could belifted its weight would be found to be about three and a half pounds. 

Around the neck of the eagle hangs a wreath of pure gold. There is aninscription on the back of it, which says that the wreath was presentedto the regiment by the loyal city of Paris after the wonderful Ulmcampaign. 

One of the claws of the eagle has been shot away. The gold laurelwreath has also been struck by a bullet, and some of its leaves aregone. The tip of one wing is missing. The head of the eagle, originally proudly and defiantly erect, has been bent backward so that, instead of a level glance, it looks upward, and there is a deep dent init, as from a blow. And right in the breast gapes a great raggedshot-hole, which pierces the heart of the proud emblem. The eagle hasseen service. It has been in action. It bears its honorable wounds. No attempt has been made to repair it. 

The staff on which the eagle stands has been broken at about half itslength, presumably by a bullet. The shattered, splintered endindicates that the staff is made of oak. It had been painted blueoriginally. The freshness of the paint has been marred. On one side, a huge slice has been cut out of it as if by a mighty sword stroke. The tough wood is gashed and scarred in various places, and there is along, dark blur just above the broken part, which looks as if it mightbe a blood stain. 

Below the eagle, and attached to the remainder of the staff for aboutthree-fourths of its length, is what remains of a battle flag. Thematerial of it was originally rich and heavy crimson silk, borderedwith gold fringe. It is faded, tattered, shot-torn, bullet-ridden, wind-whipped; parts of it have disappeared. It has been carefullymounted, and is stretched out so as to present its face to thebeholder. In dull, defaced letters of gold may be readinscriptions--the imagination piecing out the missing parts. Here is aline that runs as follows:

 _Napoleon, Empereur des Français, au 5e Infanterie de la Ligne. _

And underneath, in smaller and brighter letters, as if a later addition:

 _Grenadiers du Garde Imperiale. _

There has been some sort of device in the middle, but most of it hasdisappeared. From what remains, one guesses that it was a facsimile ofthe eagle on the staff-head. There are little tarnished spots of goldhere and there. A close observation discloses that they are goldenbees. In the corners near the staff, the only ones that are left aregolden wreaths in the center of which may be seen the letter "N". 

On the other side of the flag, hidden from the beholder, are a seriesof names. They have been transcribed upon a silver plate, which isaffixed to the wall below the broken staff. They read as follows:

"Marengo; Ulm; Austerlitz; Jena; Berlin; Eylau; Friedland; Madrid;Eckmuhl; Wagram; Vienna; Smolensk; Moskowa; Bautzen; Leipsic;Montmirail; Arcis. "

Beneath this list is a heavy dash and below all in larger letters, which unlike the rest have been filled with black enamel, is the lastword, "WATERLOO. "

The eagle, the staff, and the flag are enclosed and protected fromcareless handling by a heavy glass case, the panes set in steel andsilver, and the doors carefully locked to prevent its being stolenaway. But its security is not entrusted to these inanimate materialsalone. Every hour of the day and night there keeps watch over it anold soldier. He is armed and equipped as if for battle, in the uniformof the old Fifth Regiment of the Line, somehow temporarily incorporatedin the Imperial Guard as a supplementary regiment of the Grenadiersthereof. The black gaiters, the white trousers, the blue and scarletcoat, with its crossed belts and brilliant decorations, the loftybearskin head-dress, are all strangely in keeping with the relic andits surroundings. 

Sometimes the soldier--and there are five of them whose sole and onlybusiness it is to watch over the flag--paces steadily up and down infront of it, like a sentry on his post. Sometimes he stands before itat parade rest. As to each individual's movements, he suits his fancy. These are old soldiers, indeed, highly privileged, veterans of twentycampaigns, fifty pitched battles, and smaller affairs without number. Their weatherbeaten faces are lined and wrinkled, their mustaches areas white as snow. 

The guard is always relieved at the appointed intervals with militaryformality and precision. One soldier, older, taller than the rest, isin command of the other four. From his buttonhole dangles from a whiteribbon a little cross of white enamel. Though he shows no insignia ofrank higher than that of a Sergeant of the Guard, he has won the prouddistinction of the Legion of Honor. 

At one stated hour in the day, a tall, handsome, distinguished, middle-aged man, wearing for the occasion the uniform of a colonel inthe Imperial Guard, a blood-stained, tarnished, battered, battle-wornuniform, be it observed, comes into the room. He is more often thannot attended by a lovely lady of beauty and grace, in spite of heryears, who leads with either hand a handsome youth and a beautifulmaiden. The four soldiers are always present in full uniform under thecommand of their sergeant at this hour. As the officer enters theyform line, come to attention, and present arms, a salute he gravely andpunctiliously acknowledges. Attendants follow, bearing decanters andglasses; wine for the officer and his family, something stronger forthe soldiers. The glasses are filled. With her own fair hands, thelady hands them to the men. When all are ready the officer holds uphis glass. The men, stacking arms, do the same. The eyes of allglance upward. Above the eagle and the flag upon a shelf upon the wallstands a marble head, product of Canova's marvelous chisel. It isNapoleon. White it gleams against the dark stone of the old hall. Ata nod the soldiers face about, and----

"_Vive l'Empereur_, " says the officer quietly. 

"_Vive l'Empereur_, " in deep and solemn tones repeats the old sergeant. 

"_Vive l'Empereur_, " comes from the lips of the four soldiers, and eventhe woman and the young people join in that ancient acclaim. 

The great Emperor is dead long since. He sleeps beneath the willows inthe low valley in the lonely, far-off, wave-washed islet of St. Helena. But to these men he will never die. It is their blood that is uponthat eagle staff. It was in their hands that it received those wounds. While they carried it, flung to the breeze of battle, it was shot-tornand storm-riven. It is a priceless treasure to them all. As theyfollowed it with the ardor and devotion of youth so they now guard itand respect it with the steadier but not less intense consecration ofmaturity and old age. 

The eagle of a vanished empire, the emblem of a fame that is past. Itis as real to them as when into the hands of one of them it was givenby the Emperor himself on the Champ de Mars so long ago when he waslord of the world. And so long as they live they will love it, reverence it, guard it, salute it as in the past. 

BOOK I

THE EMPEROR AT BAY

CHAPTER I

BEARERS OF EVIL TIDINGS

The Emperor walked nervously up and down the long, low-ceiledapartment, the common room of the public inn at Nogent. Grouped arounda long table in the center of the room several secretaries were busywith orders, reports and dispatches. At one end stood a group ofofficers of high rank in rich uniforms whose brilliance was shrouded byheavy cloaks falling from their shoulders and gathered about them, forthe air was raw and chill, despite a great fire burning in a huge openfireplace. Their cloaks and hats were wet, their boots and trouserssplashed with mud, and in general they were travel-stained and weary. They eyed the Emperor, passing and repassing, in gloomy silence mixedwith awe. In their bearing no less than in their faces was expressed acertain unwonted fierce resentment, which flamed up and became moreevident when the Emperor turned his back in his short, restless marchto and fro, but which subsided as suddenly when he had them underobservation. By the door was stationed a young officer in the uniformof the Fifth Regiment of the infantry of the line. He stood quietly atattention, and was evidently there on duty. 

From time to time officers, orderlies and couriers came into the room, bearing dispatches. These were handed to the young officer and by himpassed over to the Emperor. Never since the days of Job had any manperhaps been compelled to welcome such a succession of bearers of eviltidings as Napoleon on that winter night. 

The Emperor's face was pale always, but there was an ashy graynessabout his pallor in that hour that marked a difference. His face waslined and seamed, not to say haggard. The mask of imperturbability heusually wore was down. He looked old, tired, discouraged. His usualiron self-control and calm had given place to an overwhelmingnervousness and incertitude. He waved his hands, he muttered tohimself, his mouth twitched awry from time to time as he walked. 

"Well, messieurs, " he began at last, in sharp, rather high-pitchednotes--even his voice sounded differently--as he lifted his eyes fromperusing the latest dispatch and faced the uneasy group by thefireplace, "you are doubtless anxious to know the news. " The Emperorstepped over to the table as he spoke, and gathered up a handful ofdispatches and ran over them with his hands. "It is all set forthhere: The Germans and the English have shut up Carnot in Antwerp, " hecontinued rapidly, throwing one paper down. "The Bourbons have enteredBrussels, "--he threw another letter upon the table--"Belgium, you see, is lost. Bernadotte has taken Denmark. Macdonald is falling back onÉpernay, his weak force growing weaker every hour. Yorck, who failedus once before, is hard on his heels with twice, thrice, the number ofhis men. Sacken is trying to head him off. The King of Naples seeksto save the throne on which I established him by withdrawing from menow--the poor fool! The way to Paris along the Marne is open, andBlücher is marching on the capital with eighty thousand Russians, Prussians and Bavarians. Schwarzenburg with many more is close athand. "

Something like a hollow groan broke from the breasts of the auditors asthe fateful dispatches fell one by one from the Emperor's hand. Thesecretaries stopped writing and stared. The young officer by the doorclenched his hands. 

"Sire----, " said one of the officers, the rich trappings of whose dressindicated that he was a Marshal of France. He began boldly but endedtimidly. "Before it is too late----"

Napoleon swung around and fixed his piercing eyes upon him, as hisvoice died away. The Emperor could easily finish the uncompletedsentence. 

"What, you, Mortier!" he exclaimed. 

"I, too, Sire, " said another marshal more boldly, apparently encouragedby the fact that his brother officer had broken the ice. 

"And you, Marmont, " cried the Emperor, transfixing him in turn with areproachful glance. 

Both marshals stepped back abashed. 

"Besides, " said the Emperor gloomily, "it is already too late. I havereserved the best for the last, " he said with grim irony. "The courierwho has just departed is from Caulaincourt. " He lifted the lastdispatch, which he had torn open a moment or two since. He shook it inthe air, crushed it in his hand, laughed, and those who heard him laughshuddered. 

"What does the Duke of Vicenza say, Sire?" chimed in another marshal. 

"It is you, Berthier, " said the Emperor. "You, at least, do not advisesurrender?"

"Not yet, Sire. "

"But when?" asked Napoleon quickly. Without waiting for an answer tohis question, he continued: "The allies now graciously offer us--thinkof it, gentlemen--the limits of 1791. "

"Impossible!" cried a big red-headed marshal. 

"They demand it, Prince of the Moskowa, " answered the Emperor, addressing Marshal Ney. 

"But it's incredible, Sire. "

"What!" burst out Napoleon passionately. "Shall we leave France lessthan we found her, after all these victories, after all theseconquests, after all these submissions of kings and nations? Shall wego back to the limits of the old monarchy? Never!"

"But, Sire----" began Marshal Maret. 

"No more, " said the Emperor, turning upon the Duc de Bassano. "Ratherdeath than that. While we have arms we can at least die. "

He flashed an imperious look upon the assembly, but no one seemed torespond to his appeal. The Emperor's glance slowly roved about theroom. The young captain met his look. Instantly and instinctively hishand went up in salute, his lips framed the familiar phrase:

"_Vive l'Empereur_! Yes, Sire, we can still die for you, " he added ina low respectful voice, but with tremendous emphasis nevertheless. 

He was a mere youth, apparently. Napoleon looked at him approvingly, although some of the marshals, with clouded brows and indignant wordsof protest at such an outburst from so young a man, would have reprovedhim had not their great leader checked them with a gesture. 

"Your name, sir, " he said shortly to the young officer who had beenguilty of such an amazing breach of military decorum. 

"Marteau, Sire. Jean Marteau, at the Emperor's service, " answered theyoung soldier nervously, realizing what impropriety he had committed. 

"It remains, " said the Emperor, looking back at the marshals and theiraides, "for a beardless boy to set an example of devotion in whichPrinces and Dukes of the Empire, Marshals of France, heroes of fiftypitched battles, fail. "

"We will die for you, Sire, for France, die with arms in our hands, ifwe had them, and on the field of battle, " began impetuous Ney. 

"If we don't starve first, Sire, " said cautious Berthier gloomily. 

"Starve!" exclaimed the Emperor. 

"The army is without food, " said Marmont bluntly. 

"It is half naked and freezing, " added Victor. 

"Ammunition fails us, " joined in Oudinot. 

"We have no arms, " added Mortier. 

"Do you, then, advise that we abandon ourselves to the tender merciesof the allies?" asked Napoleon bitterly. 

"Messieurs, it is surely better to die hungry and naked and withoutarms for the Emperor than to consent to his dishonor, which is thedishonor of France, " suddenly burst forth the young man at the door. 

"How dare you, " thundered the usually cool and collected Berthierangrily, "a mere boy, monsieur, assume to speak in the presence of theEmperor, to say nothing of these great captains?"

"May my life be forfeit, _Monsieur le Duc_, " said the young soldiermore boldly, since Napoleon had condoned his first remark, "if I havedone wrong in assuring my Emperor that we would still die for him. "

"Of what regiment are you?" said Napoleon, waving Berthier of thefrowning face into silence. 

"I belong to the fifth of the line, Sire. "

"He is in my corps, Sire, " said Ney. "I have brigaded that veteranregiment with the new recruits of the Young Guard. "

"But I have seen service before, " said the young captain. 

"And I have seen you before, " said Napoleon, fixing upon him apenetrating glance. 

"Yes, Sire, at the end of the bridge over the Elster at Leipsic. Youwere watching the men streaming across when the bridge was blown up. Iwas among the last to cross the bridge. "

"Go on, " said the Emperor, as the young man paused. 

"Your majesty was pleased to say----"

"I recall it all now. I saw you plunge into the river and bring backto shore an Eagle--that of your regiment. You fell at my feet. Youshould have had the Legion of Honor for it. I promised it to you, didI not?"

"Yes, Sire. "

"Why did you not claim it?"

"I was wounded and left for dead; when I got back to France and myregiment I could not add to your anxiety by----"

"Here, " said the Emperor, "I still have power to reward faithfulservants and bold spirits. " He took off his own cross, fastened it onthe heaving breast of the amazed young soldier. "Prince, " continuedthe Emperor, turning to Ney. 

"Sire?"

"Spare me this young man. I need him on my staff. "

"I can ill spare any officer from my weak corps of boys and old men, much less a veteran, " the marshal laughed. "One campaign makes usveterans, it seems, nowadays, but you shall have him. "

"Berthier, " continued Napoleon, "make out the transfer. Give the youngman a step up. Let him be Major. "

"Very well, Sire, " said Berthier, turning to one of the secretaries andgiving him directions. 

"Meanwhile, what's to be done?" continued Napoleon. 

"Tell Caulaincourt to agree to anything, " said Maret bluntly. 

"I yet live, " said Napoleon proudly. "Naked, starving, unarmed, thoughwe may be, I and my soldiers have not forgot our trade. Courage, messieurs. All is not yet lost while your Emperor breathes. Here atNogent, at Montereau and farther back we still have seventy thousandmen. With seventy thousand men and Napoleon much may be accomplished. Blücher, it is true, marches on Paris. He counts on the army ofSchwarzenberg to contain us. He marches leisurely, with wide intervalsbetween his divisions. What shall prevent us----"

"Your majesty, " cried Marmont, his eyes flashing as he divined theEmperor's plan. 

He was the quickest witted and most brilliant of the marshals, but byno means the hardest fighter, or the most loyal and devoted subordinate. 

"I am worn out, " said the Emperor, smiling more kindly upon them. "Ihave scarcely been out of the saddle--I have scarcely had an hour ofsleep since the bloody day of La Rothière. I must have rest. Let nonedisturb me for two hours. Hold the messenger from the Duke of Vicenza. I will give an answer then. "

The Emperor drooped, as he spoke, much of the animation went out of hisface and figure. He looked grayer than ever, heavier than ever, olderthan ever. 

"In two hours awaken me, " he said. 

He stepped toward the door that led to the room reserved for himself, but before he reached it two officers were admitted. Napoleon stoppedand looked at them. They saluted him, walked over to Berthier, theChief of Staff. 

"The soldiers are dying of hunger, " said the first. "The CommissaryGeneral has nothing to give them. He expected a convoy of provisions, but Cossacks, who are reported at Fontainebleau, have captured thetrain. What shall we do?"

Berthier threw up his hands, and turned to the other officer to hearhis report. 

"Ten thousand men are without arms, or with arms unserviceable andbroken. The supply of powder is low. Where shall we get any more?"

The silence in the room was terrible. 

"Sire, " said Berthier in a low voice, turning to Napoleon, standingstaring, "you hear?" He stretched out his hand in appealing gesture. 

The Emperor turned on his heel, without deigning to look or speak. 

"Watch the door for two hours, " he said to the young officer, crashingto the door behind him. "Awaken me then. "

"Gentlemen, " said Berthier despairingly to the other officers, "weshall never persuade him. You had better repair to your commands. Some of you must have something to eat. Divide what you have with theless fortunate divisions. Arm and equip the best men. There is asmall supply at Nogent, I am told. The others must wait. "

"If we could only get at these pigs of Prussians, these dogs ofRussians, " said Ney, "we could take food and guns and powder from them. "

"Doubtless, " said Berthier, not caring to argue that point. 

He bowed to the officers, as they saluted, and went out of the doormuttering and arguing noisily and insubordinately, it must be admitted, and then turned to the table where the secretaries sat. One of themhad laid his head down on his arms, stretched out on the table and wasfast asleep. The marshal awoke him and dismissed him with most of therest. From another Berthier took a paper. He examined it, signed it, sealed it, and handed it to the young officer on guard at the door. 

"Your commission, monsieur, " he said. "Once I was young and full ofenthusiasm and hope and determination. It is well for France that someof her children still retain those things. "

"I thank the Prince de Wagram, " said the young officer, bowing low, "and I beg his pardon for having spoken. "

"The Emperor has forgiven, " said Berthier indifferently. "Hisabsolution covers us all. At least if I fall behind you in those otherqualities of youth I shall not fall behind you in devotion. Come, Maret, " continued the grand marshal. 

The two worthies turned away and went out. The long room sank intosilence. A soldier came in after a while and replenished the fire, saluted and passed out. The pen of the busy secretary, the only oneleft of the group, ceased scratching on the paper. He, too, sank backin his chair asleep. The short day faded into twilight and then intodarkness. From outside beyond the courtyard of the inn came confusednoises, indicating moving bodies of men, the rumble of artillery, theclatter of cavalry, faint words of command. A light snow began tofall. It was intensely raw and cold. The officer picked up his cloak, wrapped it around him, and resumed his immobile guard. 

CHAPTER II

THE EMPEROR DREAMS

Within a mean room, which had hastily been prepared for his use, upon acamp bed, having cast himself down, fully clothed as he was, lay theworn-out, dispirited, embittered Emperor. He sought sleep in vain. Since Leipsic, with its horrible disaster a few months before, onereverse of fortune had succeeded another. He who had entered everycountry a conqueror at the head of his armies, whose myriads ofsoldiers had overrun every land, eating it up with ruthless greed andrapacity, and spreading destruction far and wide, was now at bay. Hewho had dictated terms of peace in all the capitals of Europe at thehead of triumphant legions was now with a small, weak, ill-equipped, unfed army, striving to protect his own capital. France was receivingthe pitiless treatment which she had accorded other lands. With whatmeasure she had meted out, it was being measured back to her again. The cup of trembling, filled with bitterness, was being held to hershrinking lips, and she must perforce drain it to the dregs. After allNapoleon's far-flung campaigns, after all his overwhelming victories, after the vast outpouring of blood and treasure, after all his gloryand all his fame, the end was at hand. 

The prostrate Emperor stared out through the low window into the graysky with its drift of snow across the panes. He heard faintly thetumult outside. Disaster, ruin, despair entered his heart. The youngconscripts were disheartened by defeat, the steady old veterans werepitifully few in number, thousands of them were in foreign prisons, many more thousands of them were dead. Disease was rife among theyouthful recruits, unused to such hard campaigning, as he had summonedto the colors. Without food and without arms, they were beginning todesert their Eagles. The spirit of the marshals and great officerswhom he had raised from the dust to affluence and power was waning. They were worn out with much fighting. They wanted peace, almost atany price. He remembered their eager questions when he had joined thearmy a month ago. 

"What reinforcements has your majesty brought?"

"None, " he had been compelled to answer. 

"What, then, shall we do?" queried one after the other. 

"We must try fortune with what we have, " he had declared undauntedly. 

Well, they had tried fortune. Brienne, where he had been a boy atschool, had been the scene of a brilliantly successful action. Theyhad lost no glory at La Rothière afterward--although they gainednothing else--where with thirty thousand men he had beaten back throughone long bloody day and night thrice that number, only to have toretreat in the end for the salvation of those who had been left alive. And, to him who had been wont to spend them so indifferently, men hadsuddenly become precious, since he could get no more. Every dead orwounded man was now unreplaceable, and each loss made his problemharder to solve. Since those two first battles he had been forcedback, step by step, mile by mile, league by league, everywhere; and allhis lieutenants likewise. Now Schwarzenberg, with one hundred andthirty thousand men, confronted him on the Seine and the Aube, andBlücher, with eighty thousand men, was marching on Paris by way of theMarne, with only Macdonald and his beaten and dispirited men, not tenthousand in number, to hold the fiery old Prussian field marshal incheck. 

"How had it all come to this, and why?" the man asked himself, and, with all his greatness and clearness of vision, the reason did notoccur to him. For he had only himself to blame for his misfortunes. He was not the man that he had been. For a moment his old spirit hadflashed out in the common room of the inn two hours before, but thereaction left him heavy, weary, old, lonely. Physically, he feltunequal to the strain. His human frame was almost worn out. Mere mencannot long usurp the attributes of God. Intoxicated with success, hehad grasped at omnipotence, and for a time had seemed to enjoy it, onlyto fail. The mills of the gods do grind slowly, but they do grindimmeasurably small in the end. 

What a long, bloody way he had traversed since Toulon, since Arcola, since the bridge at Lodi, since Marengo? Into what far-off lands ithad led him: Italy, Egypt, Syria, Spain, Austria, Prussia and thegreat, white, cold empire of the North. And all the long way pavedwith corpses--corpses he had regarded with indifference until to-day. 

It was cold in the room, in spite of the fire in the stove. Itreminded him of that dreadful retreat. The Emperor covered his facewith his hand. No one was there. He could afford to give away. Thererose before him in the darkness the face of the wife of his youth, onlyto be displaced by the nearer woman, the Austrian wife and the littleson whom he had so touchingly confided to the National Guard a monthago when he left Paris for the last try with fortune for his empire andhis life. Would the allies at last and finally beat him; would FrancisJoseph, weak monarch whom he hated, take back his daughter, and withher Napoleon's son, and bring him up in Austria to hate the name ofFrance and his father? The Emperor groaned aloud. 

The darkness fell upon the world outside, upon the room within, uponthe soul of the great Captain approaching the nadir of his fortunes, his spirit almost at the breaking point. To him at last came Berthierand Maret. They had the right of entrance. The time for which he hadasked had passed. Young Marteau admitted them without question. Theyentered the room slowly, not relishing their task, yet resolute todischarge their errand. The greater room outside was alight from fireand from lanterns. Enough illumination came through the door into thebed-chamber for their purpose--more than enough for the Emperor. Heturned his head away, lest they should see what they should see. Thetwo marshals bowed and stood silent. 

"Well?" said the Emperor at last, his voice unduly harsh, as if tocover emotion with its roughness, and they noticed that he did not lookat them. 

"Sire, the courier of the Duke of Vicenza waits for his answer, " saidMaret. 

There was another long pause. 

"Will not your majesty give way for the good of the people?" urgedBerthier. "Give peace to France, sire. The army is hungry----"

"Am I God, messieurs, to feed thousands with a few loaves and fishes?"cried the Emperor bitterly. 

"No, Sire. Therefore, authorize the duke to sign the treaty, and----"

"What!" said Napoleon fiercely, sitting up on the bed and facing them. "You would have me sign a treaty like that? Trample under foot mycoronation oath? Unheard-of disaster may have snatched from me thepromise to renounce my own conquests, but give up those before me, never! Leave France smaller, weaker than I found her! God keep mefrom such a disgrace. Reply to Caulaincourt, since you wish it, buttell him I reject this treaty. We must have better terms. I prefer torun the uttermost risks of war. "

Berthier opened his mouth to speak again, but Napoleon silenced himwith word and gesture. 

"No more, " he said. "Go. "

The two marshals bowed and left the room with downcast heads andresentful hearts. As they disappeared Napoleon called after them. 

"Send me that boy at the door. Lights, " he cried, as the youngofficer, not waiting for the order to be repeated, promptly entered theinner room and saluted. "The maps on the table, bring them here, andthe table, too, " commanded the Emperor. 

Even as the lights which were placed on the table dispelled the dusk ofthe room, so something had dispelled the gloom of the great man's soul. For a moment he looked almost young again. The gray pallor left hischeeks. Fire sparkled in his eyes. 

"Not yet--not yet, " he muttered, spreading the maps upon the table. "We will have one more try with fortune. My star is low on thehorizon, but it has not set yet. "

"Nor shall it set, Sire, while I and my comrades live, " returnedMarteau. 

"You are right, " said the Emperor. "You stand to me for France. Yourspirit typifies the spirit of my soldiery, does it not?"

"Theirs is even greater than mine, Sire, " was the prompt answer. 

"That's well. Do you know the country hereabouts?"

"I was born at Aumenier. "

"Let me see, " said the Emperor, "the village lies beyond Sézanne?"

"Yes, Sire. "

"In an opening in the great woods beyond the marshes of St. Gond, "continued the other, studying the map, "there is a château there. Areyou by any chance of the ancient house of Aumenier?"

"My father was a warden on the estates of the last marquis. "

"Good. Do you know that country?"

"I have hunted over every rod of it as a boy, Sire. "

"I must have news, " said the Emperor, "information, definite tidings. I want to know where Blücher is; where his several army corps are. CanI trust so young a head as yours with great matters?"

"Tortures could not wring from me anything you may confide, yourmajesty, " said the young man resolutely. 

"I believe you, " said the Emperor, looking at him keenly and readinghim like a book. "Look. Before daybreak Marmont marches to Sézanne. The next day after I follow. I shall leave enough men behind the riverhere to hold back Schwarzenberg, or at least to check him if headvances. With the rest I shall fall on Blücher. "

The young man's eyes sparkled. He had been bending over the map. Hedrew himself up and saluted. 

"It is the Emperor at his best, " he said. 

"You have studied the art of war, young sir?"

"I have read every one of your majesty's campaigns. "

"And you see what I would do?"

"Not altogether, but----"

"Fall upon the flank of the unsuspecting Prussian, burst through hisline, break his center, turn to the right or left, beat him in detail, drive him back, relieve Paris, and then----"

"And then, Sire?"

"Come back and do the same thing with Schwarzenberg!"

"Your majesty!" cried the young soldier, as the whole mighty plan wasmade clear to him. 

"Ha! It brightens your eyes and flushes your cheek, does it not? Soit will brighten the eyes and flush the cheeks of France. I will showthem. In six weeks I will drive them across the Rhine. In anothermonth they shall sue for peace and the Vistula shall be our boundary. "

"What does your majesty desire of me?"

"That you go at once. Take with you whomsoever you will. Bring orsend me reports. You are educated?"

"I was a student at your majesty's Military College, " answered theyoung man. 

"Did you finish there?"

"I finished in your majesty's army last year. "

"How old are you?"

"Twenty-two, Sire. "

"You belong to the foot, but you can ride?"

"Anything. "

"Marshal Berthier will give you horses. I shall be at Sézanne the dayafter to-morrow night. You will have news for me then?"

"Or be dead, Sire. "

"I have no use for dead men. Don't get yourself taken. Any fool candie, or be made prisoner. It is a wise man who can live for me andFrance. "

"I shall live, " said the young man simply. "Have you any furthercommand, Sire?"

"None. "

The hand of Marteau was raised in salute. 

"Stop, " said the Emperor, as the soldier turned to the door. 

"Sire?"

"Come back with news, and let us but escape from this tightening coil, and you shall be a lieutenant colonel in my guard. "

"I will do it for love of your majesty alone, " cried the soldier, turning away. 

It was not nearly dawn before Berthier and Maret, who had beenpondering over the dispatch to Caulaincourt, who was fighting theenvoys of the allies at the Congress at Chatillon, ventured to intrudeupon the Emperor. Having come to his decision, as announced to theyoung soldier, who had got his horses and his comrade and gone, theEmperor, with that supreme command of himself which few men possessed, had at last got a few hours of rest. He had dressed himself with theassistance of his faithful valet, Constant, who had given him a bathand shaved him, and he now confronted the two astonished marshals withan air serene--even cheerful. 

"Dispatches!" he said, as they approached him. "It is a question of avery different matter. Tell Caulaincourt to prolong the negotiations, but to concede nothing, to commit me to nothing. I am going to beatBlücher. If I succeed, the state of affairs will entirely change, andwe shall see what we shall see. Tell Marmont to give orders for hiscorps to march immediately after they get some breakfast. No, they maynot wait till morning. Fortune has given the Prussians into my hands. Write to my brother in Paris; tell him that he may expect news from usof the most important character in forty-eight hours. Let theParisians continue their misérérés and their forty-hour-long prayersfor the present. We'll soon give them something else to think of. "

"But, Sire----" feebly interposed Berthier. 

"Do as I tell you, " said the Emperor, good-humoredly, "and leave therest to me. " He was in a mood apparently that nothing could dash thatmorning. "And you will be as much surprised as the Prussians, and Ibelieve that nobody can be more amazed than they will be. "

CHAPTER III

THE ARMY MARCHES AWAY

Gallantly on his errand rode young Marteau. Napoleon's order toBerthier, by him transmitted down the line, had secured four of thebest horses in the army for his messengers. For young Marteau went notalone. With him rode a tall grenadier of the Imperial Guard, whoseoriginal name had been lost, or forgot, in a sobriquet which fitted himperfectly, and which he had richly earned in a long career as asoldier. They called him "Bullet Stopper, " "Balle-Arrêtante, " thecurious compound ran in French, and the soldiers clipped it andcondensed it into "Bal-Arrêt!" He used to boast that he had beenwounded in every country in Europe and in Asia and Africa as well. Hehad been hit more times than any soldier high or low in the army. Hehad distinguished himself by valor, and, but for his humble extractionand meager education, might have risen to a high command. As it was, he was personally known to the Emperor, and was accounted as one of thefavorite soldiers of the army. 

He, too, had been a dweller on the Aumenier estates. It was his talesof adventure which had kindled the martial spirit in young Marteau, whom he had known from his birth. A warm friendship subsisted betweenthe young officer and the old soldier, which no difference in rank orstation could ever impair. When the Emperor had given him leave totake with him whomsoever he would, his thoughts had at once turned toold Bullet Stopper. The latter had gladly accepted the invitation. 

Behold him now, his huge body astride of an enormous horse--for, although the grenadier was a foot-soldier, he could still ride after afashion--plodding along through the mud and the wet and the cold on themission which, if successful, would perhaps enable Napoleon to save thearmy and France, to say nothing of his throne and his family. 

Captain Marteau, or Major Marteau, to give him his new title, had saidnothing as to the nature of his mission, upon which they had beendispatched, to the humble comrade, the faithful follower whoaccompanied him. He had only told him that it was difficult, dangerous, and of vital importance, and he had explained to him thathis familiarity with the country, as well as a warm-hearted admirationand respect for his shrewdness and skill and courage, had caused hisselection. That was enough for the old soldier; dangers, difficulties, were as the breath of life to the veteran. And he was always happy tofollow Marteau, in whose career he took an interest almost fatherly. 

The weather was frightful. It had snowed and then thawed. Thetemperature was now just above the freezing point. The rough wind wasraw, the fierce winter gale was laden with wet snow. The roads, likeall country cross-roads in France, or anywhere else, for that matter, in that day, were a sea of mud. It was well that the pair had broughttwo extra horses. By changing mounts from time to time they wereenabled to spare their beasts and make the greater speed. The Emperorhad impressed upon his young aide the necessity for getting theinformation to him at the earliest possible moment. Haste waseverything. So they pressed on. 

Without waiting for their report, and presuming on his generalknowledge of Blücher's character and shrewdly deducing the exact stateof affairs Napoleon was already acting as if he possessed absolute andaccurate information. The drums were beating the long roll as theyrode through the still dark streets of the little town of Nogent. Horses were being harnessed to guns, baggage wagons were being loaded, ammunition caissons were being got ready. The troops were assemblingout of houses and tents, and coming from around fires, where many ofthem had passed an unsheltered night. 

There was little of the joy, the gaiety, the _élan_ of the Frenchsoldier, to be seen in the faces of the men thus summoned to theEagles. They came, indeed, they answered the call, but with blacklooks and sullen faces and a manner almost despairing. They had foughtand fought and fought. They had been beaten back and back and back, and when they had not been fighting they had been retreating. Andalways they were hungry. And always they were cold. 

The enormous armies of Schwarzenberg had been extended on either side. They were constantly threatened with being outflanked. Most of themwere young soldiers, weary and dispirited, and many of them unarmed. Every battle had reduced the stock of good muskets. Many of thosestill in possession of the troops had been ruined by their unskillfulhandling. 

The supply of regimental officers was utterly inadequate to the demand. The bravest and the best are usually the first to fall; the boldest andmost venturesome the most liable to capture. Perhaps, if the Emperorhad broken up his guard and distributed the veterans among the rawtroops, the effect might have been better, but in that case he wouldhave destroyed his main reliance in his army. No, it was better tokeep the guard together at all hazards. It had already been drawnheavily upon for officers for other corps. 

War was popularly supposed to be a thing of dashing adventure, ofvictory, and plunder. It had been all that before. Experience hadthrust them all unprepared face to face with the naked reality ofdefeat, disease, weary marches over awful roads in freezing cold, indrifting snow, or in sodden mire. They had no guns, they had littlefood, thank God, there was some clothing, such as it was, but even thebest uniforms were not calculated to stand such strains as had beenimposed upon these. 

Only the old guard, staunch, stern, splendid, indomitable, amagnificent body of men, held the army together--they and the cavalry. Murat, peerless horseman, was playing the traitor to save his wretchedNeapolitan throne. But Grouchy, Nansouty, Sebastiani and othersremained. Conditions were bad in the cavalry, but they were not so badas they were in the infantry. And Druot of the artillery also kept ittogether in the retreat. Guns, cannon, were more precious almost thanmen. 

Now early that morning, while it was yet dark, they were called up fromtheir broken sleep to undertake what to them was another purposelessmarch. Even the Eagles drooped in the hands of their bearers. Thesoldiers did not know, they could not see. The great high roads thatled to Paris were being abandoned; they were plunging into unfathomablemorasses; they were being led through dark, gloomy, dreadful woods tothe northward. Where? For what purpose? The dumb, wrathful, insubordinate, despairful army indeed moved at the will of its master, but largely because it realized that it could not stay where it was, and largely because it was better to move on and die than to lie downand die. They were at least warmer on the march!

The spirit of the guard and of the subordinate officers, say from thecolonels down, was good enough, but the generals and the marshals weresick of fighting. They had had enough of it. They had gained all thatthey could gain in their world-wide campaigns, in fame, money, titles, estates. They had everything to lose and nothing to win. They wantedrest, an opportunity to enjoy. Some of them were devoted to theEmperor, in fact, all of them were, but their own comfort andself-interest bulked larger and larger before them. They saw nothingbut defeat at the end of their endeavors, and they wanted to negotiatepeace with such honor as could be had while they were still a force tobe reckoned with. 

Their unwillingness and mutinous spirit, however, had not yet reachedits highest development. That came later, and brought treachery in itstrain. The awful will of the Emperor still overruled them. Wrathfully, insubordinately, protestingly, they still marched when hegave the word. 

The Emperor had been working with that furious concentration which healone of all men seemed to be able to bring about, and which was one ofthe secrets of his power. Orders borne by couriers had streamed in alldirections over the roads. Napoleon was about to undertake the mostdaring and marvelous campaign of his whole history. The stimulus ofdespair, the certainty of ruin unless the advance of the allies couldbe stayed, had at last awakened his dormant energies, filled his veinswith the fire of youth and spring. 

With that comprehensive eye which made him the master of battlefieldsand nations he had forseen everything. Soldiers were coming fromSpain. He had given instructions to magnify their number and theirstrength. He shrewdly surmised that their appearance on the left flankwould cause the cautious Schwarzenberg to pause, to withdraw hisflankers, to mass to meet them. There would be a halt in the advance. The allies still feared the Emperor. Although much of his prestige wasgone, they never made little of Napoleon. He intended to leave some ofthe best troops to confront Schwarzenberg between Nogent and Montereau, under Victor and Oudinot, hard fighters both, with instructions not toengage in any decisive battle, not to allow themselves to be trappedinto that, but to stand on the defensive, to hold the River Seine, toretreat foot by foot, if pressed, to take advantage of every cover, tohold the enemy in check, to contest every foot of the way, to assume astrength which they did not have. 

He promised that so soon as he had fallen upon Blücher he would sendthe news and see that it got to Schwarzenberg and the allied monarchswho were with him. Reverses which he hoped to inflict on the PrussianField Marshal would increase the Austrian hesitation. The Emperorbelieved that the pressure by Oudinot and Victor would be effective. They would draw in their columns and concentrate. 

After he had finished with Blücher and his army, he intended to retracehis steps and do the same thing with Schwarzenberg. Of course, if hefailed with Blücher it was all over. He was the last hope ofFrance--he and his army. If his magnificent dash at the Prussians andRussians was not successful, nothing could delay the end. Napoleon wasstaking all on the throw, taking the gambler's chance, taking itrecklessly, accepting the hazard, but neglecting no means to insure thewinning of the game. 

The Emperor flung a screen of cavalry in front of Marmont, to patrolevery village, to control every farmhouse, to see that no news of hisadvance came to the unsuspecting old Prussian. And then he himselfstayed back in Nogent to see his own orders carried out. He personallyinspected every division, as it marched to the front through the waningnight, the cheerless dawn, the gray dark day. It cut him to the heartto see his soldiers go so silently and so sullenly. Here and there aregiment did cry: "_Vive l'Empereur_"; here and there a voice soundedit, but in the main the men marched dumbly, doggedly. It was only theold guard that gave him the imperial salute in full voice in the oldway. 

Nothing indicated to the Emperor more thoroughly the temper of thesoldiers than that open indifference. Why, even in Russia, ere theirstiffened lips froze into silence, they had breathed out the oldacclaim. The Emperor remembered that grenadier who, when told by thesurgeon that he feared to probe for a ball that had pierced his breastbecause he did not know what he would find, "If you probe deep enoughto reach my heart, " said the soldier with his dying breath, "you willfind the Emperor. "

Grave-faced and frowning, shivering from time to time in the fierce, raw cold, the Emperor watched the troops march by. Well, the day afterto-morrow, if there were any left, they would acclaim him loud enough. The Emperor was cold and cynical. He had never allowed the life of mento stand in the way of his desires, but even his iron nerve, his icyindifference had been shaken. He gave no outward evidence of it, butin his heart he realized more plainly than ever before that when thesewere gone there were no more. And so, perhaps, his shudder was notaltogether due to the cold. 

Whatever his emotions, he steeled his heart, he made his preparationsfor the last try with fortune, the last card to be played, the last dieto be thrown. What would be the end of it? What would be the resultof that final desperate game? The Emperor was a master player--couldeven his finesse and skill and talent and genius make up for the poorhand that had been dealt him because the pack had been so drawn uponthat the good cards had been exhausted, used up, long since?

Did the Emperor realize that even he was not what he had been? Did hecomprehend that he was no longer the soldier, the man, of the past?Did he realize that at last he had tried the patience of that fortunehe had worshiped, beyond the limit; and that whatever favor might bevouchsafed him would only delay the end?

The boys might march and fight, the old guard might sustain its ancientfame, the genius of the Emperor might flash out in full effulgence oncemore--and it would make no difference. The stars on their coursesfought against Sisera. The doom sentence was written. Postponement hemight look forward to, but no final stay of judgment! A few thousandmore lives he might throw away, but these late sacrifices would availnothing. Oh, no; the Emperor's shudder was not altogether due to thecold that winter morning. 

CHAPTER IV

MARTEAU AND BAL-ARRÊT RIDE

Of this young Marteau and old Bullet Stopper, plodding along at thebest speed they could get from their horses, knew nothing. The oldgrenadier was laconic by nature, and his habit of silence had becomeintensified by his years of subordination and service. The youngofficer was wrapped in his own thoughts. Knowing, as they did, everyfoot of the way, the two were able to find short cuts, take advantageof narrow paths over the hills and through the woods, which would haveoffered no passage to the army, even if they had been aware of it. They reached Sézanne hours before Marmont's advance, long before thecavalry even. 

Baiting their horses, and getting a welcome meal at the inn--the townitself had as yet suffered nothing from the ravages of the Cossacks, being too strong for raiding parties--and refusing to answer questions, and paying no attention to wondering looks of the inhabitants, theyrode out again. Their way through the marshes of St. Gond wasdreadful. If only the weather would change, the ground would freeze, how welcome would be the altered conditions. But the half snow, thehalf rain, still beat down upon them. Their poor beasts were almostexhausted. They broke the ice of the Grand Morin river to get waterfor the horses and themselves, and, not daring to kindle a fire, forthey were approaching the country occupied by Blücher, they made ascanty meal from their haversacks. 

They had found the farmhouses and châteaux deserted, evidences of hastyflight and plunder on every side. The Cossacks had swept through theland beyond the town. The people who could had fled to Sézanne, or hadgone westward hurriedly, to escape the raiders. In the ruined villagesand farms they came across many dead bodies of old women, old men andchildren, with here and there a younger woman whose awful fate filledthe old soldier and the young alike with grim and passionate rage. 

"Yonder, " said Marteau, gloomily pointing westward through thedarkness, "lies Aumenier and my father's house. "

"And mine, " added Bullet-Stopper. 

There was no need to express the thought further, to dilate upon it. It had been the Emperor's maxim that war should support war. Hisarmies had lived off the country. The enemy had taken a leaf out ofhis own book. Even the stupid could not fight forever against Napoleonwithout learning something. The allies ate up the land, ravaged it, turned it into a desert--_lex talionis_!

Marteau's father still lived, with his younger sister. OldBullet-Stopper was alone in the world but for his friends. What hadhappened in that little village yonder? What was going on in the greatchâteau, so long closed, now finally abandoned by the proud royalistfamily which had owned it and had owned Marteau and old Bullet-Stopper, and all the rest of the villagers, for that matter, for eight hundredyears, or until the revolution had set them free?

Plunged in those gloomy thoughts the young officer involuntarily took astep in the direction of that village. 

"On the Emperor's service, " said the grenadier sternly, catching hisyoung comrade by the arm. "Later, " he continued, "we may go. "

"You're right, " said Marteau. "Let us move on. "

Whether it was because the roads really were in a worse conditionbecause of that fact that they ran through marshy country, or whetherit was because the men were worn out and their horses more so, theymade the slowest progress of the day. They plodded on determinedlythrough the night. The two weaker horses of the four finally gave wayunder the strain. Husbanding the remaining two with the greatest care, the two soldiers, passing through the deserted villages of St. Prix, onthe Little Morin, and Baye, finally reached the great highroad whichran through Champaubert, Vauxchamps and Montmirail, toward Paris, andwhich, owing to a northward bend of the river, crossed the country someleagues to the southward of the Marne. 

Day was breaking as they reached the edge of the forest bordering theroad, and from a rather high hill had a glimpse of a wide stretch ofcountry before them. Fortunately, while it was still raw and cold, thesun came out and gave them a fair view of a great expanse of rollingand open fields. A scene of great animation was disclosed to them. The road was covered with squadrons of green-coated Russian cavalry, evidently just called to the saddle, and moving eastward at a walk orslow trot. They looked like the advance guard of some importantdivision. There was a low, rolling volume of heavy sound coming fromthe far north, and in the rising sun they thought they coulddistinguish in that direction smoke, as from a battlefield. The sounditself was unmistakable to the veteran. 

"Cannon!" he said. "Fighting there. "

"Yes, " answered Marteau. "The Emperor said that the Prussians andRussians were pressing the Duke of Tarentum, Marshal Macdonald. "

"But what have we here?" asked old Bal-Arrêt, shading his eyes andpeering at the array on the near road. 

A division of Russians, coming from a defile to the right, haddebouched upon a broad plateau or level upon the edge of which thelittle village of Champaubert straggled forlornly. The Cossackhorsemen and the Russian cavalry had cleaned out Champaubert. Therewere no inhabitants left to welcome the Russian division, except deadones, who could offer no hospitality. 

The division was weary and travel-stained, covered with mud, horsesdead beat; the cannon, huge, formless masses of clay, were draggedslowly and painfully forward. It was evident that the commander of thedivision had doubled his teams, but the heavy guns could scarcely bemoved, even by twice the number of horses attached. The poor bruteshad no rest, for, as fast as one gun arrived, both teams were unhitchedand sent over the road to bring up another. A halt was made on theplateau. It was evident to the experienced eyes of the watchers that acamp was about to be pitched. The two men stared in keen interest, with eyes alight with hatred. What they had seen in the country theyhad just passed intensified that hatred, and to the natural racialantagonism, fostered by years of war, were now added bitter personalresentments. 

"That's one of old Marshal Forward's divisions, " said the grenadier, referring to Blücher by his already accepted name, "but what one?"

"Russians, by the look of them, " answered Marteau. 

"You say well. I have seen those green caps and green overcoatsbefore. Umph, " answered Bullet-Stopper, making for him anextraordinarily long speech, "it was colder then than it is now, but wealways beat them. At Friedland, at Eylau, at Borodino, aye, even atthe Beresina. It was the cold and hunger that beat us. What wouldn'tthe guard give to be where we are now. Look at them. They are so sureof themselves that they haven't thrown out a picket or sentries. "

In fact, neither Blücher nor any of his commanders apprehended anydanger whatsoever. That Napoleon would dare to fall on them wasunthinkable. That there could be a single French soldier in theirvicinity save those under Macdonald, being hard pressed by Yorck, neverentered anybody's head. 

"What Russians are they, do you think?" asked Marteau of his comrade. 

"How should I know?" growled the other. "All Russians are alike to me, and----"

Marteau, however, had heard discussions during the time he had been onduty in Napoleon's headquarters. 

"That will be Sacken's corps, unless I am very much mistaken, " he said. 

"And those up yonder toward Épernay, where the firing comes from?"asked the grenadier. 

Marteau shook his head. 

"We must find out, " was the answer. 

"Yes, but how?"

"I don't know. "

"There is only one way, " continued Bal-Arrêt. 

"And that is?"

"To go over there, and----"

"In these uniforms?" observed the young officer. "We should be shot assoon as we should appear, and questioned afterward. "

"Yes, if there was anything left to question, " growled the grenadier. "The Russians will do some scouting. Perhaps some of them will comehere. If so, we will knock them on the head and take their uniforms, wait until nightfall, slip through the lines, find out what we can, andgo back and tell the Emperor. It is very simple. "

"Quite so, " laughed the young officer; "if we can catch two Russians, if their uniforms will fit us, if we can get through, if we can findout, if we can get back. Do you speak Russian, Bal-Arrêt?"

"Not a word. "

"Prussian?"

"Enough to pass myself through I guess, and----"

"Hush, " said the young man, as three Russians suddenly appeared out ofa little ravine on the edge of the wood. 

They had come on a foraging expedition, and had been successful, apparently, for, tied to a musket and carried between two of the menwas a dead pig. How it had escaped the Cossack raiders of the daybefore was a mystery. They were apparently coming farther into theforest for firewood with which to roast the animal. Perhaps, as thepig was small, and, as they were doubtless hungry, they did not wishtheir capture to be widely known. At any rate, they came cautiously upa ravine and had not been noticed until their heads rose above it. They saw the two Frenchmen just about as soon as they were seen. Thethird man, whose arms were free, immediately presented his piece andpulled the trigger. Fortunately it missed fire. If it had gone off itmight have attracted the attention of the Russian outposts, investigations would have been instituted, and all chance of passingthe lines there would have been over. 

At the same time he pulled the trigger he fell like a log. Thegrenadier, who had thrust into his belt a heavy knife, picked up fromsome murdered woodsman on the journey, had drawn it, seized it by theblade, and, with a skill born of olden peasant days, had hurled it atthe Russian. The blade struck the man fairly in the face, and thesharp weapon plunged into the man to the hilt. He threw up his hands, his gun dropped, he crashed down into the ravine stone dead. The nextsecond the two Frenchmen had seized the two Russians. The latter weretaken at a disadvantage. They had retained their clutch on thegun-sling carrying the pig, and, before they realized what wastoward--they were slow thinkers both--a pair of hands was claspedaround each throat. The Russians were big men, and they struggledhard. A silent, terrible battle was waged under the trees, but, try asthey would, the Russians could not get release from the terrible graspof the Frenchmen. The breath left their bodies, their eyes protruded, their faces turned black. 

Marteau suddenly released his prisoner, who dropped heavily to theground. To bind him with his own breast and gun straps and belt was awork of a few moments. When he had finished he tore a piece of clothfrom the coat of the soldier and thrust it into his mouth to gag him. The grenadier had a harder time with his enemy, who was the bigger ofthe two men, but he, too, mastered him, and presently both prisonerslay helpless, bound and gagged. The two Frenchmen rose and stared ateach other, a merry twinkle in the eyes of old Bullet-Stopper, a verypuzzled expression in those of the young soldier. 

"Well, here's our disguise, " said the old soldier. 

"Quite so, " interposed the officer. "But what shall we do with thesetwo?"

"Nothing simpler. Knock them in the head after we have found out whatwe can from them, and----"

But Marteau shook his head. 

"I can't murder helpless prisoners, " he said decisively. 

"If you had seen what they did to us in Russia you wouldn't have anyhesitation on that score, " growled the grenadier. "I had comrades whomthey stripped naked and turned loose in the snow. Some of them theyburied alive, some they gave to the wolves, some they burned to death. I have no more feeling for them than I have for reptiles or devils. "

"I can't do it, " said the younger soldier stubbornly. "We must thinkof some other way. "

Old Bullet-Stopper stood frowning, trying to think of some argument bywhich to overcome these foolish scruples, when an idea came to hisfriend. 

"About half a mile back we passed a deserted house. Let's take themthere and leave them. There will probably be ropes or straps. We canbind them. They will be sheltered and perhaps somebody may come alongand release them. "

"Yes, doubtless somebody will, " said the grenadier gravely, thinkingthat if somebody proved to be a peasant their release would be aneternal one, and glad in the thought. "Very well, you are in command. Give your order. "

At Marteau's direction the straps around the feet of the men wereloosened, they were compelled to get up; they had been disarmed, ofcourse, and by signs they were made to march in the required direction. Casting a backward glance over the encampment, to see whether theabsence of the three had been noticed, and, discerning no excitement ofany sort, Marteau followed the grenadier and the two prisoners. Half amile back in the woods stood the hut. It was a stoutly builtstructure, of logs and stone. A little clearing lay around it. For awonder it had not been burned or broken down, although everything hadbeen cleaned out of it by raiders. The door swung idly on its hinges. The two Russians were forced to enter the hut. They were bound withropes, of which there happened to be some hanging from a nail, the doorwas closed, huge sticks from a surrounding fence were driven into theground against it, so that it could not be opened from the inside, andthe men were left to their own devices. 

As neither Frenchman spoke Russian, and as the Russians understoodneither French nor Prussian, conversation was impossible. Everythinghad to be done by signs. 

"I wouldn't give much for their chance, shut up in that house in thiswood, " said the grenadier, as the two walked away. 

"Nor I, " answered Marteau. "But at least we haven't killed them. "

The two Frenchmen now presented a very different appearance. Beforethey left the hut they had taken off their own great coats, thebearskin shako of the grenadier, and the high, flat-topped, bell-crowned cap of the line regiment of the officer. In place ofthese they wore the flat Russian caps and the long Russian overcoats. Bal-Arrêt might serve for a passable Russian, but no one could mistakeMarteau for anything but a Frenchman. Still, it had to be chanced. 

The two retraced their steps and came to the ravine, where the deadRussian lay. They had no interest in him, save the grenadier's desireto get his knife back. It had served him well, it might be usefulagain. But they had a great interest in the pig. Their exhaustedhorses were now useless, and they had thought they would have to killone to get something to eat. But the pig, albeit he was a lean one, was a treasure indeed. To advance upon the Russian line in broaddaylight would have been madness. Darkness was their only hope. Reaching down into the ravine, the grenadier hoisted the body of thepoor pig to his comrade, and the two of them lugged it back far in thewoods where it was safe to kindle a fire. With flint and steel andtinder, they soon had a blaze going in the sequestered hollow they hadchosen, and the smell of savory roast presently delighted their fancy. They ate their fill for the first time in weeks be it remarked. Ifthey only had a bottle of the famous wine of the country to wash itdown they would have feasted like kings. 

"So far, " said the grenadier, when he could eat no more, "ourexpedition has been successful. If those youngsters down at Nogentcould only smell this pig there would be no holding them. "

"I think it would be well to cook as much of it as we can carry withus. I don't know when we may get any more. "

"That is well thought on, " agreed the old soldier. "Always provide forthe next meal when you can. "

"And, with what's left, as we can't be far from the hut, we'll givethose two poor Russians something to eat. "

"You're too tender-hearted, my lad, " said Bullet-Stopper, his faceclouded, "ever to be a great soldier, I am afraid. "

On an expedition of this kind rank was forgotten, and the humblesubordinate again assumed the role of the advisor. Marteau laughed. 

"Rather than let them starve I would knock them in the head, " he said. 

"That's what I wanted to do, " growled the other savagely. 

When it came to the issue, however, he really did respect the rank ofhis young friend. Accordingly, pieces of the roast pig were taken tothe hut and placed in reach of the prisoners, who were found bound asbefore and looking very miserable. Yet there was something suspiciousin their attitude. The old grenadier turned one of them over anddiscovered that one had endeavored to free the other by gnawing at theropes. Not much progress had been made in the few hours that hadelapsed, but still it was evident that the rope would eventually bebitten through and the men freed. He pointed this out to his officer. 

"Better finish them now, " he said. 

But Marteau shook his head. 

"It will take them all day and night to get free at that rate; by thattime we will be far away, and it will be too late. "

"But if they should tell what they have seen?"

"What can they tell? Only that two Frenchmen fell upon them. No, letthem be. Set the food on the floor here. If they get hungry they canroll over toward it and eat it. "

The gags had been taken out of the mouths of the men. If they did givethe alarm there would be none to hear them, save perhaps a Frenchpeasant passing that way, and at his hands they would meet short shrift. 

Having stuffed their haversacks full of roast pig, they retraced theirsteps and reached the edge of the clearing. It was noon by this time, so much of the day had been spent in the various undertakings that havebeen described, but the Russians were still there. Evidently theyintended to encamp for the day and rest. Probably it was part of theprogram. These would move on, presumably on the morrow, and anotherdivision of the army would come up and take their places. The firingstill continued on the horizon. 

Marteau, who had a soldierly instinct, divined that the cavalry, whichhad long since disappeared to the westward, would try to outflankMacdonald, perhaps get in his rear, and this Russian division wouldmove up and join Yorck's attacking force. The whole proceeding wasleisurely. There was no especial hurry. There was no use tiring outthe men and fighting desperate battles when maneuvering would serve. 

The two made a more careful investigation and discovered that trees ledacross the road about half a mile to the left, and, although the roadswere filled with galloping couriers and many straggling men and smallcommands, yet they decided that by going to the edge of the wood thattouched the road and watching their opportunity they could get acrossunnoticed. 

While they stared deliberating a squadron of cavalry, not of Cossacks, but of Russian cuirassiers left the camp and moved off down thecross-road that led to the south and west--the road, indeed, that ledto the Château d'Aumenier. The officer in command rode in front andwith him were several civilians, at least, while they were covered withheavy fur cloaks, no uniform was visible, and among the civilians wasone unmistakably a woman. A Frenchman always had an eye for a woman. The party was too far away to distinguish features, but the two mennoted the air of distinction about the party and the way the woman rodeher horse, the deference that appeared to be paid to her, and theywasted no little time in wondering what might be toward. However, noexplanation presenting itself to their minds, and, the matter being ofno great importance after all, they turned their attention to thebusiness in hand. 

Working their way through the trees they reached a little coppice closeto the road. They lay down on the ground back of the coppice, wormedtheir way into it, and waited. 

"Here we part, " said Marteau. "There are but two of us. We must getall the information we can. I will find out what division this is infront of us, and I will go back along the road to the eastward andascertain where the other divisions are, and by nightfall I will returnto Sézanne to report to the Emperor. "

"And what am I to do?" asked the grenadier. "Remain here?"

"You will cross the road and proceed in the direction of the firing. Find out, if you can, how the battle goes, what troops are there, whatMarshal Macdonald is doing, and at nightfall retrace your steps andhasten back to Sézanne. "

"Where shall I meet you?"

"Let me think, " answered Marteau. "I shall first go east and thenwest, if I can get around that division ahead yonder. Let us take theroad to d'Aumenier. I will meet you at the old château at ten o'clock, or not later than midnight. There is a by-road over the marsh andthrough the forest by the bank of the river to Sézanne. "

"I know it. "

"Very well, then. It is understood?"

Old Bullet-Stopper nodded. 

"The road is clear, " he said. "Good luck. "

The two men rose to their feet, shook hands. 

"We had better go separately, " said Marteau. "You have the longerdistance. You first. I will follow. "

The officer watched the old grenadier anxiously. He passed the roadsafely, ran across the intervening space, and disappeared in a littleclump of fruit trees surrounding a deserted farmhouse. The young manwaited, listening intently for the sound of a shot or struggle, but heheard nothing. Then he turned, stepped out into the road, saw it wasempty for the moment, set his face eastward, and moved across it to seewhat he could find out beyond. 

CHAPTER V

WHEN THE COSSACKS PASSED

For the first time in years the great hall of the Château d'Aumenierwas brightly lighted. The ancient house stood in the midst of a woodedpark adjacent to the village, overlooking one of the little lakes whoseoutlets flowed into the Morin. In former days it had been the scene ofmuch hospitality, and, even after the revolution in the period of theconsulate and the early empire, representatives of the ancient househad resided there, albeit quietly and in greatly diminished style. Theold Marquis Henri, as uncompromising a royalist soldier as ever lived, had fled to England and had remained there. His younger brother, Robert, compromising his dignity and his principles alike, had finallymade his submission to Napoleon and received back the estates, or whathad not been sequestrated. But he had lived there quietly, had soughtno preferment of the government--even rejecting many offers--and hadconfined his recognition to as narrow limits as possible. He hadmarried and there had been born to him a daughter, whom he had namedafter the ancient dames of his honorable house, Laure. 

The Count d'Aumenier, living thus retired, had fallen into rathercareless habits after the death of his wife, and the little demoisellehad been brought up indifferently indeed. Dark, brown-eyed, black-haired, she had given promise of beauty to come. Left to her owndevices she had acquired accomplishments most unusual in that day andby no means feminine. She could ride, shoot, swim, run, fence, muchbetter than she could dance the old courtly minuet, or the new andpopular waltz, just beginning to make its appearance. A love ofreading and an ancient library in which she had a free range hadinitiated her into many things which the well-brought-up French girlwas not supposed to know, and which, indeed, many of them went to theirgraves without ever finding out. The Count had a well-stored mind, andon occasion he gave the child the benefit of it, while leaving hermainly to her own devices. 

Few of the ancient nobility had come back to the neighborhood. Theiroriginal holdings had been portioned out among the new creations of theImperial Wizard, and with them the Count held little intercourse. Laure d'Aumenier had not reached the marriageable age, else some of thenewly made gentry would undoubtedly have paid court to her. She foundcompanions among the retainers of her father's estate. The devotion ofsome of them had survived the passionate hatreds of the revolution and, failing the Marquis, who was the head of the house, they loyally servedhis brother, and with pride and admiration gave something like feudalworship and devotion to the little lady. 

The Marquis, an old man now, had never forgiven his brother, the Count, for his compromise with principle and for his recognition of the"usurper, " as he was pleased to characterize Napoleon. He had refusedeven to accept that portion of the greatly diminished revenue of theestate which the younger brother had regularly remitted to the Marquis'bankers in London. The whole amount lay there untouched andaccumulating, although, as were many other emigrés, the Marquisfrequently was hard pressed for the bare necessities of life. Withevery year, as Bonaparte--for that was the only name by which hethought of him--seemed to be more and more thoroughly established onthe throne, the resentment of the Marquis had grown. Latterly he hadrefused to hold any communication with his brother. 

The year before the Battle of the Nations, or just before Napoleon setforth on his ill-fated Russian adventure, Count Robert d'Aumenier died. With an idea of amendment, which showed how his conscience had smittenhim for his compromise, he left everything he possessed to his brother, the Marquis, including his daughter, Laure, who had just reached hersixteenth year. With the will was a letter, begging the Marquis totake the young demoiselle under his charge, to complete that ill-begunand worse-conducted education, the deficiencies of which the father toolate realized, in a manner befitting her station, and to provide forher marriage with a proper portion, as if she had been his owndaughter. The Marquis had never married himself, lacking the means tosupport his rank, and it was probable that he never would marry. 

The Marquis was at first minded to refuse the bequest and to disregardthe appeal, but an old retainer of the family, none other than JeanMarteau, the elder, complying with Count Robert's dying wish, had takenthe young Countess Laure across the channel, and had quietly left herin her uncle's care, he himself coming back to act as steward or agentfor the remaining acres of the shrunken Aumenier domain; for theMarquis, having chosen a course and walked in it for so many years, wasnot minded even for the sake of being once more the lord of Aumenier togo back to France, since the return involved the recognition of thepowers that were. 

Old Jean Marteau lived in his modest house between the village and thechâteau. And the château had been closed for the intervening time. Young Jean Marteau, plodding along the familiar way, after a day fullof striking adventure and fraught with important news, instantlynoticed the light coming through the half moons in the shutters overthe windows of the château, as he came around a brow of the hill andoverlooked the village, the lake and the castle in the clearing. Thevillage was as dark as the château was light. 

Marteau was ineffably weary. He had been without sleep for thirty-sixhours, he had ridden twenty leagues and walked--Heaven only knew howmany miles in addition. He had extricated himself from desperatesituations only by his courage, daring, and, in one or two cases, bydownright fighting, rendered necessary by his determination to acquireaccurate information for the Emperor. He had profited, not only by hisinstruction in the military school, but by his campaigning, and he nowcarried in his mind a disposition of the Russian forces which would beof the utmost value to the Emperor. 

The need of some rest, however, was absolute. Marmont's troops, starting out at the same time he had taken his departure, would barelyhave reached Sézanne by this time, so much more slowly did an army movethan a single person. The Emperor, who had intimated that he wouldremain at Nogent until the next day, would scarcely undertake the marchbefore morning. Aumenier lay off to the northwest of Sézanne, distanta few miles. If the young aide could find something to eat and get afew hours' sleep, he could be at Sézanne before the Emperor arrived andhis information would be ready in the very nick of time. With thatthought, after staring hard at the château in some little wonderment, he turned aside from the road that led to its entrance and made for thevillage. 

His mother had died the year before; his father and his sister, withone or two attendants, lived alone. There was no noble blood inMarteau's veins, as noble blood is counted, but his family had beenfollowers and dependents of the Aumeniers for as many generations asthat family had been domiciled in France. Young Jean Marteau had notonly been Laure d'Aumenier's playmate, but he had been her devotedslave as well. To what extent that devotion had possessed him he hadnot known until returning from the military school he had found hergone. 

The intercourse between the young people had been of the frankest andpleasantest character, but, in spite of the sturdy respectability ofthe family and the new principles of equality born of the revolution, young Marteau realized--and if he had failed to do so his father hadenlightened him--that there was no more chance of his becoming asuitor, a welcome suitor, that is, for the hand of Laure d'Aumenierthan there was of his becoming a Marshal of France. 

Indeed, as in the case of many another soldier, that last was not animpossibility. Men infinitely more humble than he in origin and withless natural ability and greatly inferior education had attained thathigh degree. If Napoleon lived long enough and the wars continued andhe had the opportunity, he, too, might achieve that coveteddistinction. But not even that would make him acceptable to CountRobert, no matter what his career had been; and even if Count Robertcould have been persuaded the old Marquis Henri would be doublyimpossible. 

So, on the whole, Jean Marteau had been glad that Laure d'Aumenier hadgone out of his life. He resolved to put her out of his heart in thesame way, and he plunged with splendid energy into the German campaignof 1813, with its singular alternations of success and failure, ofvictory and defeat, of glory and shame. He had been lucky enough towin his captain's commission, and now, as a major, with a position onthe staff of the Emperor, he could look forward to rapid advancement solong as the Emperor lasted. With the bright optimism of youth, eventhough affairs were now so utterly hopeless that the wise old marshalsdespaired, Marteau felt that his foot was on the first rung of theladder of fame and prosperity, and, in spite of himself, as he hadapproached his native village, he had begun to dream again, almost tohope. 

There was something ominous, however, in the appearance of the villagein that dark gray evening hour. There were no barking dogs, noclucking hens, no lowing cattle, no sounds of childish laughter, nosturdy-voiced men or softer-spoken women exchanging greetings. Thestables and sheds were strangely silent. 

The village was a small one. He turned into it, entered the firsthouse, stumbled over a corpse! The silence was of death. With abeating heart and with a strength he did not know he possessed, heturned aside and ran straight to his father's house. 

Standing by itself it was a larger, better and more inviting house thanthe others. The gate of the surrounding stone wall was battered offthe hinges, the front door of the house was open, the garden wastrampled. The house had been half destroyed. A dead dog lay in frontof the door. He could see all that in the half light. He ran down thepath and burst into the wrecked and plundered living room. A fewfeeble embers still glowed in the broad hearth. From them he lighted acandle standing on the mantel shelf. 

The first sight that greeted him was the body of his sister, her tornclothing in frightful disarray, a look of agony and horror upon herwhite set face under its dishevelled hair. She was stone dead. Heknelt down and touched her. She was stone cold, too. He stared ather, a groan bursting from his lips. The groan brought forth anothersound. Was it an echo? Lifting the candle, he looked about him. In afar corner lay a huddled human body. He ran to it and bent over it. It was his father. Knowing the house like a book, he ran and fetchedsome water. There were a few mouthfuls of spirits left in a flask ofvodka he had found in the Russian's overcoat. He bathed his father'sface, forced a few drops of the strong spirit down his throat, and theold man opened his eyes. In the flickering light he caught sight ofthe green cap and coat. 

"Curse you, " he whispered. 

"My father!" cried the young officer. "It is I. "

"My son!"

"What has happened?"

"The Cossacks--I fought for the honor of your sister. Where----" theold man's voice faltered. 

"She is dead yonder, " answered the son. 

"Thank God, " came the faint whisper from the father. "MademoiselleLaure--she--the wagon-train--the castle----"

His voice died away, his eyes closed. Frantically the young manrecalled his father to his senses again. 

"It's no use, " whispered the old man, "a ball in the breast. I amgoing. What do you here?"

"On the service of the Emperor, " answered the young officer. "Father, speak to me!"

"Alas--poor--France, " came the words slowly, one by one, andthen--silence. 

Marteau had seen death too many times not to know it now. He laid theold man's head gently down, he straightened his limbs, he went over tothe form of the poor girl. To what horrors she had beensubjected--like every other woman in the village--before she died!Like his father, he thanked God that she was dead. He lifted her uptenderly and laid her down on a huge settle by the fireplace. He stooda moment, looking from one to the other. The irreligion of the age hadnot seized him. He knelt down and made a prayer. Having dischargedthat duty, he lifted his hands to heaven and his lips moved. Was heinvoking a curse upon these enemies? He turned quickly and went outinto the night, drawing the door behind him, fastening it as tight ashe could. 

He forgot that he was hungry, that he was thirsty, that he was tired, that he was cold. For the moment he almost forgot his duty toward hisEmperor and France, as he walked rapidly through the trees toward thegreat house. But as he walked that stern obligation came back to him. His sister was dead, his father murdered. Well, the first Cossack hecame upon should pay. Meanwhile there was his duty. What had hisfather said?

"The Cossacks--the wagon-train--the Countess Laure. "

What did it mean? Part of it was plain enough. The Cossacks hadraided the village, his father had been stricken down defending hisdaughter, his sister had died. That was easy, but the wagon-train, thecastle, the Countess Laure? Could she have come back? Was that theoccasion for the lights in the château? That body of cavalry that hehad seen leaving Sacken's men that morning with the civilians--was shethat woman? The mystery would be solved at the château. And it wasthere he had arranged to meet his comrade, anyway. 

He stopped and looked back at the devastated village. Already a lightwas blazing in one of the houses. It would soon be afire. He could donothing then. The château called him. He broke into a run again, heavy-footed and tired out though he was. Around the château in thecourtyard were dozens of wagons. His experienced glance told him thatthey were army wagons, containing provisions, arms, ammunition. Someof the covers had been raised to expose the contents. There was not aliving man present, and scarcely a living horse. There had been somesort of a battle evidently, for the wagons were in all sorts ofconfusion and there were dead men and horses everywhere. He did notstop to examine them save to make sure that the dead men were French, proving that the convoy had come from Paris. He threaded his way amongthe wagons and finally reached the steps that led to the broad terraceupon which rose the château. 

The main door was open. There were no soldiers about, which struck himas peculiar, almost terrifying. He went up the steps and across theterrace, and stopped before the building, almost stumbling over thebodies of two men whose uniforms were plainly Russian! He inspectedthem briefly and stepped toward the door of the entrance hall. It wasopen but dimly lighted, and the light wavered fitfully. The faintillumination came into the hall from a big broad open door upon theright, giving entrance to what had been the great room. Still keepingwithin the shadow, he moved carefully and noiselessly into the hall, until he could get a view of the room beyond. 

A huge fire was burning in the enormous fireplace. The many tableswith which the room had been furnished had been pushed together in thecenter, several tall candles pulled from the candelabra and fastenedthere by their own melted wax stood upon these tables and added theirillumination to the fire-light. Several men in uniforms, two of themrough-coated Cossacks, and two whose dress showed clearly that theybelonged to the Russian Imperial Guard, lay on the floor, bound andhelpless. A stout, elderly man, in civilian garb, with a very red faceand an angry look, his wig awry, was lashed to a chair. Between tworuffianly looking men, who held her firmly, stood a woman. 

There were perhaps two dozen other men in the room, unkempt, savage, brutal, armed with all sorts of nondescript weapons from ancientpistols to fowling pieces, clubs and scythes. They were all in a stateof great excitement, shouting and gesturing madly. 

The woman standing between the two soldiers was in the full light. Sosoon as he caught sight of her Marteau recognized her. It was Laured'Aumenier. She had grown taller and more beautiful than when he hadseen her last as a young girl. She had been handled roughly, herclothes were torn, her hair partially unbound. Her captors held herwith an iron grasp upon her arms, but she did not flinch or murmur. She held herself as erect and looked as imperious as if she had been ona throne. 

CHAPTER VI

MARTEAU BARGAINS FOR THE WOMAN

The sight of her predicament filled the young Frenchman with rage andhorror. Drawing his pistol, he strode into the room. What he intendedto do, or how he intended to do it was not clear even to him. Therestood the woman he loved in the clutch of wretches whose very touch waspollution. He must help her. All duties and intentions gave way tothat determination. 

A dead silence fell over the room as he entered and the people caughtsight of him. He stood staring at the occupants and they returned hisstare in good measure. Finally the biggest ruffian, who seemed to bethe leader, found his voice and burst out with a savage oath:

"Another Russian! Well, the more the merrier. "

He raised a huge horse pistol as he spoke. His words were greeted withjeers and yells from the band. With a flash of inspiration Marteau, realizing into what he had been led, dropped his own weapon andinstantly threw up his hands. 

"I am French, messieurs, " he cried loudly as the pistol clattered onthe floor at his feet. 

"What are you doing in that uniform, then?" roared the leader. 

Marteau tore open the heavy green coat, disclosing beneath it hisFrench uniform. He had a second to make up his mind how to answer thatpertinent question. He was quite in the dark as to the meaning of themysterious situation. He opened his mouth and spoke. 

"It is quite simple, " he began, "I am----"

What should he say? What was he? Were these men for the Emperor orfor the king, or were they common blackguards for themselves? Thelatter was probably the true state of the case, but did it please themto pose as royalists? He took a long chance after a quick prayerbecause he wanted to live not so much for himself as for the woman. 

"I am deserting the Emperor, " he said. "I am for the king. "

"No king could have brought us to worse straits than we are now in, "said the leader, lowering his pistol uncertainly, but still keeping theyoung man covered. 

"Right, my friend, " continued Marteau exultantly, realizing that he hadmade the right choice. "Bonaparte is beaten, Blücher is marching onParis, Schwarzenberg has the Emperor surrounded. I thought I might aswell save myself while I had the chance, so I stole this Russian coatto keep myself from freezing to death, and here I am. I belong toAumenier. "

"You'll join us, then?"

"With pleasure. Who do you serve?"

"Ourselves, " laughed the leader grimly. "We're from Fére-Champenoiseway. We're all of the village and countryside that the Cossacks andthe Prussians have left of our families. We're hungry, starving, naked. Do you hear? We were hiding in the woods hard by to-day. There was a wagon-train. A regiment of Cossacks surprised it, killedits defenders, brought it here. We saw it all. "

"And where are the Cossacks gone?" asked the young man, coolly pickingup his pistol from the floor and nonchalantly sitting upon the nearesttable in a careless way which certainly belied the beating of hisheart. He took careful notice of the men. They were ignorant fellowsof the baser sort, half-mad, starving, ferocious peasants, littlebetter than brute beasts, made so by the war. 

"An order came for them. They marched away, leaving a company of othersoldiers like those yonder. " He pointed to the men on the floor. 

"And what became of them?"

"There was an attack from the woods at night--a little handful ofFrench soldiers. They beat them off and followed them down the road. They have been gone half an hour. We heard the firing. We came outthinking to plunder the train. We opened wagon after wagon but foundnothing but arms. We can't eat steel or powder. We killed twosentries, made prisoners of the officers. We'll set fire to the houseand leave them presently. As for this man, we'll kill him, and as forthis woman----"

He laughed meaningly, basely, leering at the girl in hideoussuggestiveness that made her shudder; and which his wretched companionsfound highly amusing. 

"You have done well, " said the young officer quickly, although he wascold with rage at the ruffian's low insinuation. "I hope to have someinterest with the king later. If you will give me your names I willsee that you are rewarded. "

"Never mind our names, " growled the leader, still suspicious, evidently. 

"Food and drink would reward us better now, " shouted a second. 

"Aye, " yelled one of the others, seconding this happy thought. "Wehave eaten nothing since yesterday, and as for drink, it is a weeksince my lips have tasted a swallow of wine. "

"And what would you give me if I could procure you some of the finewine of the country, my friends?" said Marteau quietly, putting greatrestraint upon himself to continue trafficking with these scoundrels. 

"Give? Anything, " answered several in chorus, their red eyes gleaming. 

"If you've got it we'll take it for nothing, " said the brutal leaderwith ferocious cunning. 

"Do I look as if I concealed wine and provisions on my person?" askedthe officer boldly, confident now that he had found the way to masterthese men. 

"No, " was the answer. "But where is it?"

"And be quick about it, " cried a second threateningly. "Those Russiansmay be back at any moment. "

"Is this a jest?" asked a third with a menacing gesture. 

"It would be ill-done to joke with men as hungry as you are, I takeit, " answered Marteau. 

"Hurry, then, " cried a fourth. 

"In good time, my friends. First, a word with you. What are you goingto do with those two prisoners?"

"Knock the men in the head, I told you, " answered the leader. 

"And the woman?"

"We are trying to settle who should have her--first. "

"It's a pity there's only one, still----" began another. 

"I'll make a bargain with you, then, " interrupted Marteau quickly, fingering his weapon while he spoke. "Food and drink in plenty foryou, the woman for me. "

"And what do you want of the woman?"

"Before I was a soldier I lived in Aumenier, I told you. I servedthese people. This woman is an aristocrat. I hate her. "

It was an old appeal and an old comment but it served. These were wilddays like those of the revolution, the license and rapine and ravagingsof which some of the older men present could very well recall. 

"She treated me like dirt under her feet, " went on the officer. "Now Iwant to have my turn. "

"Marteau!" cried the woman for the first time, recognizing him as heturned a grim face toward her, upon which he had very successfullycounterfeited a look of hatred. "Is it indeed----"

"Silence, " thundered the young soldier, stepping near to her andshaking his clenched fist in her face. "These worthy patriots willgive you to me, and then----"

There was a burst of wild laughter throughout the room. 

"It's these cursed aristocrats that have brought these hateful Russiansupon us, " cried one. 

"Give her to the lad and let us have food and drink, " cried another. 

"He'll deal with her, " cried a third. 

"You hear?" asked the chief. 

"I hear, " answered Marteau. "Listen. My father kept this house forits owners. He is dead in the village yonder. "

"The wine, the wine, " roared one, licking his lips. 

"Food. I starve, " cried another, baring his teeth. 

"Wait. Naturally, fleeing from the army, I came to him. My sister isdead too, outraged, murdered. You know?"

"Yes, yes, we know. "

"I want to get my revenge on someone and who better than she?"

The young officer did not dare again to look at the young woman. Hecould feel the horror, the amazement, the contempt in her glance. Wasthis one of the loyal Marteaux?

"Make her suffer for us!"

"Our children!"

"Our mothers!"

"Our daughters!" cried one after the other, intoxicated with theirwrongs, real or fancied, their faces black with rage, their clenchedhands raised to heaven as if invoking vengeance. 

"Have no fear, " said Marteau. "Because of my father's position I knowwhere the wine cellar is, and there is food there. "

"Lead on, " said the chief. "We've talked too much. "

"This way, " replied the young captain, lifting the only candlestickfrom the table. "Leave two men to watch the woman and give the alarm, the rest follow me. "

Marteau knew the old castle like a book. He knew where the keys werekept. Chatting carelessly and giving them every evidence of hisfamiliarity, he found the keys, unlocked the doors, led them from roomto room, from level to level, until finally they reached the winecellar. It was separated from the cellar in which they stood by aheavy iron-bound oaken door. In spite of his easy bearing and manner, suspicions had been aroused in the uneasy minds of the rabble, but whenMarteau lifted the candle and bade them bring their own lights and seethrough an iron grating in the door what the chamber beyond containedand they recognized the casks and bottles, to say nothing of hams, smoked meats and other eatables, their suspicions vanished. They burstinto uproarious acclamation. 

"Hasten, " cried the leader. 

"This is the last door. "

"Have you the key?"

"It is here. "

Marteau lifted the key, thrust it in the lock and turned it slowly, asif by a great effort and, the door opening outward, he drew it back. 

"Enter, " he said. "Help yourselves. "

With cries of joy like famished wolves the whole band poured into thewine cellar. All, that is, but Marteau. As the last men entered heflung the door to and with astonishing quickness turned the key in thelock and turned away. The door had shut with a mighty crash, the noisehad even stopped the rioting plunderers. The first man who had seizeda bottle dropped it crashing to the floor. All eyes and faces turnedtoward the door. The last man threw himself against it frantically. It held as firmly as if it had been the rock wall. They were trapped. The leader was quicker than the rest. He still had his weapon. Thrusting it through the iron bars of the grating in the door he pulledthe trigger. There was a mighty roar, a cloud of smoke, butfortunately in the dim light his aim was bad. Marteau laughed grimly. 

"Enjoy yourselves, messieurs. The provisions are good and you may eatas much as you like. The wine is excellent. Drink your fill!"

The next instant he leaped up the stairs and retraced his steps. Itwas a long distance from the wine-cellar to the great room, but throughthe grating that gave entrance to the courtyard the sound of shots hadpenetrated. One of the ruffians, committing the woman to the care ofthe remaining man, started to follow his comrades. He had his pistolin his hand. He went noisily, muttering oaths, feeling that somethingwas wrong but not being able to divine exactly what. Marteau heard himcoming. He put the candle down, concealed himself and, as the mancame, struck him heavily over the head with the butt of his remainingpistol. He fell like a log. Leaving the candle where it was, theyoung officer, dispossessing his victim of his pistols, entered thehall and, instead of entering the great room by the door by which hehad left it, ran along the hall to the main entrance and thus took theremaining brigand in the rear. 

This man was one of those who had seized the Countess Laure. In spiteof herself the girl started as the officer appeared in the doorway. The man felt her start, wheeled, his eyes recognized the officer. Hehad no pistol, but his fingers went to his belt and with the quicknessof light itself he hurled a knife straight at Marteau. The woman withequal speed caught the man's arm and disturbed his aim. Her movementwas purely instinctive. According to his own words she had even moreto fear from Marteau than from this ruffian. The young officerinstantly dropped to his knees and as he did so presented his pistoland fired. The knife whistled harmlessly over his head and burieditself in the wood paneling of the door. The bullet sped straight toits mark. The unfortunate blackguard collapsed on the floor at thefeet of the girl, who screamed and shrank back shuddering. 

"Now, mademoiselle, " said the young man, advancing into the room, "Ihave the happiness to inform you that you are free. "

CHAPTER VII

A RESCUE AND A SIEGE

The woman stared at him in wild amazement. That she was freetemporarily at least, could not be gainsaid. Her captors had not seenfit to bind her and she now stood absolutely untouched by anyone. Theshooting, the fighting, had confused her. She had only seen Marteau asan accomplice and friend of her assailants, she had no clew to hisapparent change of heart. She did not know whether she had merelyexchanged masters or what had happened. Smiling ironically at herbewilderment, which he somehow resented in his heart, Marteau proceededto further explanation. 

"You are free, mademoiselle, " he repeated emphatically, bowing beforeher. 

"But I thought----"

"Did you think that I could be allied with such cowardly thieves andvagabonds as those?"

"But you said----"

"It was simply a ruse. Could you imagine that one of my family, thatI, should fail in respect and devotion to one of yours, to you? Idetermined to free you the instant I saw you. "

"And will you not complete your good work?" broke out the man tied tothe chair in harsh and foreign but sufficiently comprehensible French, "by straightway releasing me, young sir?"

"But who is this?"

"This is Sir Gervaise Yeovil, " answered Mademoiselle Laure, "myattorney, an English officer-of-the-law, of Lord Castlereagh's suite, who came with me from Chatillon to get certain papers and----"

"Why all this bother and explanation?" burst out Sir Gervaise. "Tellhim to cut these lashes and release me from this cursed bondage, " headded in English. 

"That is quite another matter, sir, " said Marteau gravely. "I regretthat you are an enemy and that I can not----"

"But we are not enemies, Monsieur, " cried one of the officers, who hadjust succeeded in working a gag out of his mouth. "We are Russianofficers of the Imperial Guard and since you have deserted the cause ofthe Corsican you will----"

"Deserted!" thundered Marteau, his pale face flaming. "That was asmuch a ruse as the other. "

"What, then, do you mean by wearing a Russian coat over your uniformand----"

"He is a spy. He shall be hanged, " said the other, also freeinghimself of his gag. 

"Indeed, " laughed Marteau. "And do you gentlemen ask me to release youin order that you may hang me?"

"I won't hang you, " burst out the Englishman. "On the contrary, I'llgive you fifty pounds if you'll cut these cords and----"

Marteau shook his head. 

"Countess, " bellowed Yeovil angrily, "there's a knife on the tableyonder, pray do you----"

The young woman made a swift step in that direction, but the Frenchmanwas too quick for her. 

"Pardon me, mademoiselle, I beg that the first use you make of your newlife be not to aid my enemies. "

"Your enemies, Marteau?"

"The enemies of France, then. "

"Not my uncle's France, " said the girl. 

"But your father's, and I had hoped yours. "

"No, no. "

"In any event, these gentlemen must remain bound for the time being. No harm shall come to you from me, " continued Marteau, addressing thetwo officers. "But as for these hounds----" He stepped over to thetwo Cossacks, who lay mute. He bent over them with such a look ofrage, ruthless determination and evil purpose in his face as startledthe woman into action. 

"Monsieur!" she cried, stepping over to him and striving to interposebetween him and the two men. "Marteau, what would you do?"

"My sister--dead in the cottage yonder after--after----" he choked out. He stopped, his fingers twitching. "My old father! If I served themright I would pitch them into yonder fireplace or torture them, thedogs, the cowards!"

"My friend, " said the young Countess gently, laying her hand on his arm. 

Marteau threw up his hands, that touch recalled him to his senses. 

"I will let them alone for the present, " he said. "Meanwhile----" Heseized the dead man and dragged the body out of sight behind the tables. 

"Will monsieur give a thought to me?" came another voice from the dimrecesses of a far corner. 

"And who are you?" asked Marteau, lifting the light and staring. 

"A Frenchman, sir. They knocked me on the head and left me for dead, but if monsieur would assist me I----"

Marteau stepped over to him, bent down and lifted him up. He was astout, hardy looking peasant boy, pale cheeked, with blood clottedaround his forehead from a blow that he had received. Feverish firesparkled in his eyes. 

"If monsieur wishes help to put these brutes out of the way commandme, " he said passionately. 

"We will do nothing with them at present, " answered Marteau. 

"Quick, Laure, the knife, " whispered the Englishman. 

The Frenchman heard him, however, and wheeled around. 

"Mademoiselle, " he cried, "on your honor I charge you not to abuse theliberty I have secured for you and that I allow you. "

"But, my friends----"

"If you had depended on your friends you would even now be----" hepaused--"as my sister, " he added with terrific intensity. 

"Your pleasure shall be mine, " said the young woman. 

"If I could have a drink of wine!" said the young peasant, sinking downinto a chair. 

"There is a flask which they did not get in the pocket of one of theofficers yonder, " said the young Frenchwoman, looking sympatheticallyat the poor exhausted lad. 

Marteau quickly recovered it, in spite of the protestations of theofficer, who looked his indignation at this little betrayal by thewoman. He gave some of it to the peasant and then offered it tomademoiselle and, upon her declining it, took a long drink himself. Hewas weak and trembling with all he had gone through. 

"Now, what's to be our further course?" asked the countess. 

"I don't know yet. I----"

But the answer was never finished. Shots, cries, the sound ofgalloping horses came faintly through the open door. 

"My men returning!" cried the Russian officer triumphantly. "Our turnwill come now, sir. "

Two courses were open. To run or to fight. Duty said go; love saidstay. Duty was stronger. After a moment's hesitation Marteau dashedfor the door. He was too late. The returning Russian cavalry wasalready entering the courtyard. Fate had decided against him. Hecould not go now. He thought with the swiftness of a veteran. Hesprang back into the hall, threw the great iron-bound door into itsplace, turned the massive key in its lock, thanking God that key andlock were still intact, dropped the heavy bars at top and bottom thatfurther secured it, just as the first horseman thundered upon the door. 

In his rapid passage through the house the young Frenchman had noticedthat all the windows were shuttered and barred, that only the frontdoor appeared to have been opened. He was familiar with the château. He knew how carefully its openings had been secured and how often hisfather had inspected them, to keep out brigands, the waifs and strays, the wanderers, the low men of the countryside. For the moment he wassafe with his prisoners, one man and a boy guarding a score of men andone woman, and holding a château against a hundred and fifty soldiers!Fortunately, there would be no cannon with that troop of cavalry, therewere no cannon in that wagon train, so that they could not batter downthe château over his head. What his ultimate fate would be he couldnot tell. Could he hold that castle indefinitely? If not, what? Howhe was to get away and reach Napoleon with his vital news he could notsee. There must be some way, however. Well, whatever was to be wouldbe, and meanwhile he could only wait developments and hold on. 

The troopers outside were very much astonished to find the heavy doorclosed and the two sentries dead on the terrace. They dismounted fromtheir horses at the foot of the terrace and crowded about the door, upon which they beat with their pistols, at the same time shouting thenames and titles of the officers within. Inside the great hall Marteauhad once more taken command. In all this excitement Laure d'Aumenierhad stood like a stone, apparently indifferent to the appeals of thefour bound men on the floor and the Englishman in the chair that shecut the ropes with which they were bound, while the French officer wasbusy at the door. Perhaps that young peasant might have prevented her, but as a matter of fact, she made no attempt to answer their pleas. She stood waiting and watching. Just as Marteau reëntered the room thechief Russian officer shouted out a command. From where he lay on thefloor his voice did not carry well and there was too much tumultoutside for anyone to hear. In a second Marteau was over him. 

"If you open your mouth again, monsieur, " he said fiercely, "I shallhave to choose between gagging and killing you, and I incline to thelatter. And these other gentlemen may take notice. You, what are younamed?"

"Pierre Lebois, sir, " answered the peasant. 

"Can you fire a gun?"

"Give me a chance, " answered the young fellow. "I've got people dead, yonder, to avenge. "

The brigands had left the swords and pistols of the officers on chairs, tables and the floor. There were eight pistols. Marteau gathered themup. The English baronet yielded one other, a huge, heavy, old-fashioned weapon. 

"There are loopholes in the shutters yonder, " said the officer. "Doyou take that one, I will take the other. They will get away from thedoor in a moment and as soon as you can see them fire. "

"Mademoiselle, " said the Russian officer desperately, "I shall have toreport to the commander of the guard and he to the Czar that you gaveaid and comfort to our enemies. "

"But what can I do?" asked the young woman. "Monsieur Marteau couldcertainly shoot me if I attempted----"

"Assuredly, " said Marteau, smiling at her in a way anything but fierce. 

It was that implicit trust in her that restrained her and saved him. As a girl the young countess had been intensely fond of Jean Marteau. He certainly appeared well in his present role before her. In therevulsion of feeling in finding him not a bully, not a traitor, but adevoted friend and servitor, he advanced higher in her estimation thanever before. Besides, the young woman was by no means so thoroughgoinga loyalist as her old uncle, for instance. 

"I can see them now, monsieur, " said the young peasant from thepeep-hole in the shutter. 

Indeed, the men outside had broken away from the door, groups wererunning to and fro seeking lights and some other entrance. Taking aimat the nearest Marteau pulled the trigger and Pierre followed hisexample. The noise of the explosions was succeeded by a scream ofanguish, one man was severely wounded and another killed. Somethingmysterious had happened while they had been off on the wild goose chaseapparently, the Russians decided. The château had been seized, theirofficers had been made way with, it was held by the enemy. 

"They can't be anything more than wandering peasants, " cried animperious voice in Russian outside. "I thought you had made thoroughwork with them all, Scoref, " continued the speaker. "Your Cossacksmust have failed to complete the job. "

"It will be the first time, " answered Scoref, the _hetman_ of theraiders. "Look, the village burns!"

"Well, what's to be done now?" said the first voice. 

"I don't know, Baron, " was the answer. "Besieging castles is more inyour line than in mine. "

"Shall we fire again, monsieur?" asked Pierre within. 

"No, " was the answer. "Remember we've only got eight shots and we mustwait. "

"Let us have lights, " cried the commander of the squadron. "Here, takeone of those wagons and----"

In a few moments a bright fire was blazing in the courtyard. 

"The shots came from those windows, " continued the Russian. "Keep outof the way and---- Isn't that a window open up there?"

"It is, it is!" came the answer from a dozen throats. 

All the talk being in Russian was, of course, not understood by the twoFrenchmen. 

"One of you climb up there, " continued the Russian. "You see thespout, and the coping, that buttress? Ten roubles to the man who doesit. "

A soldier sprang forward. Those within could hear his heavy body rubalong the wall. They did not know what he was doing or what wastoward. They were in entire ignorance that a shutter had becomedetached from its hinges in the room above the drawing-room and thatthey would soon have to face an attack from the rear. The man whoclimbed fancied himself perfectly secure, and indeed he was from thosewithin. It was a hard climb, but presently he reached thewindow-ledge. His hands clasped it, he made a brave effort, drewhimself up and on the instant from beyond the wagons came a pistolshot. The man shrieked, released his hold and fell crashing to theground. The besiegers broke into wild outcries. Some of them ran inthe direction whence the shot had come. They thought they caught theglimpse of a figure running away in the darkness. Pistols were firedand the vicinity was thoroughly searched, but they found nothing. 

The shot, the man's cry overhead, the body crashing down to the ground, enlightened Marteau. He handed Pierre two of the six remainingpistols, told him to run to the floor above and watch the window. Theyoung peasant crossed himself and turned away. He found the roomeasily enough. It was impossible to barricade the window, but he drewback in the darkness and waited. 

Having found no one in the grove beyond the baggage-wagons, theRussians called for another volunteer and a second man offered. Pierreheard him coming, permitted him to gain the ledge and then thrust thepistol in his face and pulled the trigger. At the same time a bigCossack coming within easy range and standing outlined between theloophole and the fire, Marteau gave him his second bullet, with fataleffect. There flashed into his mind that the shot which had come soopportunely from outside bespoke the arrival of his friend, thegrenadier. He hoped the man would have sense enough to go immediatelyto Sézanne and report the situation. If he could maintain the defenseof the castle for two hours he might be rescued. He stepped to thehall and called up to Pierre. Receiving a cheery reply to the effectthat all was well and that he would keep good watch, he came back intothe great hall and resumed his ward. 

CHAPTER VIII

A TRIAL OF ALLEGIANCE

Mademoiselle d'Aumenier had seated herself at a table and remainedthere in spite of the entreaties and black looks of the prisoners. Marteau did not dare to leave his loophole, but the necessity forwatching did not prevent him from talking. The men outside seemed tohave decided that nothing more could be done for the present. Theywithdrew from out of range of the deadly fire of the defenders and, back of the wagons, kindled fires, and seemed to be preparing to make anight of it. 

The best officers of the detachment were prisoners in the château. Thesubordinate who had been entrusted with the pursuit was young andinexperienced; the Cossack commander was a mere raider. Theythemselves belonged to the cavalry. They decided, after inspecting thewhole building carefully as nearly as they dared in view of theconstant threat of discharge, that they would have to wait untilmorning, unless something occurred to them or some chance favored them. They trusted that at daylight they would have no difficulty ineffecting an entrance somewhere. A total of three men dead and onewounded, to say nothing of the sentries and officers, had adiscouraging effect on night work. They did not dream that there wasan enemy, a French soldier, that is, nearer than Troyes. They supposedthat the castle had been seized by some of the enraged country peoplewho had escaped the Cossacks and that they could easily deal with themin the morning. 

Incidentally, the wine cellars in which the peasants had been shut hadopenings to the outer air, and through them came shouts and cries whichadded to the mystification of the besiegers and increased theirprudence. The walls of the château were massive, the floors thick, thewine cellar far away, and no sound came from them to the inmates of thegreat hall. Indeed, in the exciting adventure that had taken place, the raiders had been completely forgot by Marteau and the others. 

The conversation in the hall was not animated. The Countess Laure, womanlike, at last began to ask questions. 

"Monsieur Marteau, " she asked persuasively, "will you hear reason?"

"I will hear anything, mademoiselle, from you, " was the instant reply. 

"Think of the unhappy state of France. "

"I have had reason enough to think of it to-night, mademoiselle. Myfather and my sister----" his voice faltered. 

"I know, " said the girl sympathetically, and, indeed, she was deeplygrieved for the misfortunes of the faithful and devoted old man and theyoung girl she had loved. She waited a moment and then continued. "The Emperor is at last facing defeat. His cause is hopeless. "

"He yet lives, " answered the soldier softly. 

"Yes, of course, " said the woman. "I do not understand the militarysituation, but my friends----"

"Will monsieur allow me the favor of a word?" interposed the chiefRussian officer courteously. 

"If it is not to summon assistance you may speak, " replied Marteau. 

"As a soldier you know the situation as well as I, " continued theRussian. "Prince Von Schwarzenberg has Napoleon in his grasp. He willhold him until he is ready to seize him, while Field-Marshal Blüchertakes Paris. "

"The Emperor yet lives, " said Marteau, repeating his former remark withmore emphasis and smiling somewhat scornfully. "It is not wise toportion the lion's skin while it covers his beating heart, " he addedmeaningly. 

"Not even the genius of your Emperor, " persisted the Russian moreearnestly, "will avail now, monsieur. He is lost, his cause as well. Why, this very convoy tells the story. We intercepted letters thattold how pressing was its need. Your army is without arms, withoutfood, without clothes. "

"It still has its Emperor. "

"Death!" cried the Russian impatiently. "Must we kill him in order toteach you a lesson?"

"You will not kill him while there is a soldier in France to interposehis body. "

"Very heroic, doubtless, " sneered the Russian, beginning to get angry. "But you know your cause is lost. "

"And if it were?"

"Be reasonable. There are many Frenchmen with the allied armies. Yourrank is----?"

"I am a Major on the Emperor's staff if you are interested to know. "

"Major Marteau, I have no doubt that my interest with my Emperor, theCzar Alexander, with whom I am remotely connected--I may say I am afavorite officer in his guard--would doubtless insure you a Colonel'scommission, perhaps even that of a General of Brigade, with my graciousmaster, or in the army of King Louis after we have replaced him on histhrone if----"

"If what?"

"If you release us, restore us to our command. Permit us to send forhorses to take the place of those we have killed to take the wagons ofthe valuable convoy to our own army. "

"And you would have me abandon my Emperor?"

"For the good of France, " urged the Russian meaningly. 

"Will you answer me a question, monsieur?" continued the young manafter a moment's deep thought. 

"Certainly, if it be not treason to my master. "

"Oh, you have views on treason, then, " said the Frenchman adroitly andnot giving the other time to answer he continued. "To what corps areyou attached?"

"Count Sacken's. "

"And whose division?"

"General Olsuvieff's. "

"Monsieur, " said the young Frenchman calmly, "it is more than probablethat before to-morrow your division will be annihilated and the nextday the corps of General Sacken may meet the same fate. "

The Russian laughed scornfully at what seemed to him the wildestboasting. 

"Are you mad?"

"Not so mad as you will be when it happens. "

The Russian controlled himself with difficulty in the face of theirritating observations. 

"And who will do this?" he asked, at last. 

"The Emperor. "

"Does he command the lightning-flash that he could hurl thethunder-bolt from Troyes?"

"Upon my word, I believe he does, " laughed the Frenchman. 

"This is foolish jesting, boy, " broke out the Englishman. "I am a manof consideration in my own country. The lady here will bear me out. Ioffered you fifty pounds. I will give you five hundred if you willrelease us and----"

"And I offer you my--friendship, " said the Countess, making a longpause before the last word. 

How much of it she meant or how little no one could say. Any ruse wasfair in war like this. Marteau looked at her. The color flamed to hercheek and died away. It had flamed into his cheek and died away also. 

"Gentlemen, " he said, "you offer me rank, money----" hepaused--"friendship----" he shot a meaning glance at the young girl. He paused again. 

"Well?" said the Russian. 

"Speak out, " said the Englishman. "Your answer, lad?"

"I refuse. "

"Don't be a fool, " roared Sir Gervaise bluntly. 

"I refuse, I repeat, " said Marteau. "While the Emperor lives I am hisman. Not rank, not money, not friendship, not love itself even couldmove me. Enough, gentlemen, " he continued imperiously as the twoRussians and the Englishman all began to speak at once. "No more. Such propositions are insults. "

"There is another appeal which ought to be brought to your attention, young sir, " said the second Russian officer when he could be heard. 

"And what is that?"

"Your life. You know that as soon as day breaks the château will beseized. You are a self-confessed spy. You came here wearing a Russianuniform. As soon as we are released we shall hang you as a spy. Butif you release us now, on my word of honor you shall go free. "

"Monsieur is a very brave man, " said Marteau smiling. 

"Why?"

"To threaten me with death while he is in my power. You are the onlywitnesses. I could make way with you all. "

"You forget the Countess and the English gentleman. "

"Although the Countess is the enemy of France----"

"Nay, nay, the friend, " interposed the girl. 

"Be it so. Although she is the enemy of the Emperor then, I cannotbelieve that she could condemn to death by her testimony the man whohas saved her from worse than death, and as for the Englishgentleman----"

"Damme if I'd say a word to hurt you, if only for what you have donefor her, whether you release me or not, " cried Yeovil. 

"You see?"

"Monsieur Jean, " said the Countess, "you put me under great obligationsto you. "

"By saving your life, your honor, mademoiselle! I gladly----"

"By giving me your confidence, " interrupted the girl, who in her secretheart was delighted at the stand the young officer had taken. Shewould have despised him if he had succumbed to the temptation of whichshe herself was part. 

"I could do no less, mademoiselle, " returned Marteau. "I and myforbears have served your house and known it and loved it for eighthundred years. "

"I know it, " answered the girl. "I value the association. I am proudof it. "

"And since you know it and recognize it perhaps you will tell me howyou happen to be here. "

"Willingly, " answered Mademoiselle Laure. "The estates are to be sold. There are deeds and papers of value in the château without whichtransactions could not be completed. I alone knew where they were. With Monsieur Yeovil, my uncle's friend and the father of----" shehesitated and then went on, "so I came to France. "

"But with the invading armies----"

"There was no other way. The Czar Alexander gave me a safe conduct. Acompany of his guards escorted us. Sir Gervaise Yeovil was accreditedto Lord Castlereagh, but with his permission he brought me here first. My uncle was too old to come. Arrived here we found the Cossacks, thewagon-train. There was a battle, a victory, pursuit. Then thosevillains seized us. They stole upon us unsuspecting, having murderedthe sentries, and then you came. "

"I see. And have you the papers?"

"They are---- Not yet, but I may take them?"

"Assuredly, so far as I am concerned, " answered Marteau, "although Iregret to see the old estate pass out of the hands of the ancientfamily. "

"I regret it also, but I am powerless. "

"We played together here as children, " said Marteau. "My father haskept it well since. Your father died and now mine is gone----"

"And I am very sorry, " answered the young woman softly. 

Marteau turned away, peered out of the window and sank into gloomysilence. 

CHAPTER IX

THE EMPEROR EATS AND RIDES

Sézanne was a scene of the wildest confusion that night. It wascongested with troops and more and more were arriving every minute. They entered the town in fearful condition. They had been weary andragged and naked before. Now they were in a state of extremeprostration; wet, cold, covered with mud. The roads were blocked withmired artillery, the guns were sunk into the mud to the hubs, the tiredhorses could no longer move them. The woods on either side were fullof stragglers, many of whom had dropped down on the wet ground andslept the sleep of complete exhaustion. Some, indeed, sick andhelpless, died where they lay. Everything eatable and drinkable inSézanne had vanished as a green field before a swarm of locusts whenMarmont's division had come through some hours before. 

The town boasted a little square or open space in the midst. A hugefire was burning in the center of this open space. A cordon ofgrenadiers kept the ground about the fire clear of stragglers. Suddenly the Emperor rode into the midst. He was followed by a wet, cold, mud-spattered, bedraggled staff, all of them unutterably weary. Intense resolution blazed in the Emperor's eyes. He had had nothing toeat or drink since morning, but that ancient bodily vigor, thatwonderful power of endurance, which had stood him in such good stead indays gone by, seemed to have come back to him now. He was all fire andenergy and determination. So soon as his presence was known, couriersreported to him. Many of them he stopped with questions. 

"The convoy of arms, provisions, powder, " he snapped out to an officerof Marmont's division approaching him, "which was to meet us here. Have you seen it?"

"It has not appeared, Sire. "

"Has anything been heard of it?"

"Nothing yet, your Majesty. "

"Have you scouted for it, sent out parties to find it? Where is theComte de Grouchy?"

"I come from him, Sire. He is ahead of the Duke of Ragusa's corps. "

"Has he come in touch with the enemy?"

"Not yet, Sire. "

"The roads?"

"Worse than those we have passed over. "

"Marshal Marmont?"

"I was ordered by General Grouchy to report to him and then----"

"Well, sir?"

"He sent me back here. "

"For what purpose?"

"To find you, Sire, and to say to you most respectfully from theMarshal that the roads are absolutely impassable. He has put fourteams to a gun and can scarcely move them. To advance is impossible. He but awaits your order to retrace his steps. "

"Retrace his steps!" shouted Napoleon, raising his voice. "Never! Hemust go on. Our only hope, our only chance, salvation lies in aninstant advance. He knows that as well as I. "

"But the guns, Sire?"

"Abandon the guns if necessary. We'll take what cannon we need fromthe enemy. "

And that admission evidenced the force with which the Emperor held hisconvictions as to the present movement. Great, indeed, was thenecessity which would induce Napoleon to order the abandonment of asingle gun. 

"But, Sire----"

"Monsieur, " said Napoleon severely, "you are a young officer, althoughyou wear the insignia of a Colonel. Know that I am not accustomed tohave my commands questioned by anyone. You will return to MarshalMarmont at once. Exchange your tired horse for one of my own. I stillhave a fresh one, I believe. And spare him not. Tell the Duc deRagusa that he must advance at all hazards. Advance with the guns ifhe can, if not then without them. Stay, as for the guns---- Where isthe Mayor of the town?"

"Here, Sire, " answered a plain, simple man in civilian's dress standingnear. 

"Are there any horses left in the countryside, monsieur?"

"Many, your Majesty, wherever the Russians have not passed. "

"I thought so. Gentlemen, " the Emperor turned to his staff, "ride inevery direction. Take the mounted escort. Bid them scatter. Go toevery village and farm. Ask my good French people to bring theirhorses in, to lend them to the Emperor. It is for France. I strikethe last blow for them, their homes, their wives and children. Fortunesmiles upon us. The enemy is delivered into our hands. They shall beliberally rewarded. "

"The men are hungry, " cried a voice from a dark group of officers inthe background. 

"They are weary, " exclaimed another, under cover of the darkness. 

"Who spoke?" asked the Emperor, but he did not wait for an answer, perhaps he did not care for one. "I, too, am hungry, I, your Emperor, and I am weary. I have eaten nothing and have ridden the day long. There is bread, there are guns in the Field-Marshal's army. We shalltake from Blücher all that we need. Then we can rest. You hear?"

"We hear, Sire. "

"Good. Whose division is yonder?"

"Mine, Sire, " answered Marshal Ney, riding up and saluting. 

"Ah, Prince, " said Napoleon, riding over toward him. "Michael, " headded familiarly as he drew nearer, "I am confident that the Prussianshave no idea that we are nearer than Troyes to them. We must getforward with what we can at once and fall on them before they learn ofour arrival and concentrate. We must move swiftly. "

"To-morrow, " suggested Ney. 

"To-night. "

"The conscripts of my young guard are in a state of great exhaustionand depression. If they could have the night to rest in----"

Napoleon shook his head. 

"Advance with those who can march, " he said decisively. "We must fallon Blücher in the morning or we are lost. "

"Impossible!" ejaculated Ney. 

"I banished that word from my vocabulary when I first went into Italy, "said Napoleon. "Where are your troops?"

"Here, your Majesty, " answered Ney, turning, pointing back to darkhuddled ranks drooping over their muskets at parade rest. 

Napoleon wheeled his horse and trotted over to them. The iron hand ofNey had kept some sort of discipline and some sort of organization, butthe distress and dismay of the conscripts was but too plainly evident. 

"My friends, " said the Emperor, raising his voice, "you are hungry----"a dull murmur of acquiescence came from the battalion--"you are wearyand cold----" a louder murmur--"you are discouraged----" silence. "Some of you have no arms. You would fain rest. Well I, your Emperor, am weary, I am hungry, I am old enough to be the father of most of youand I am wet and cold. But we must forget those things. You wonderwhy I have marched you all the day and most of the night through thecold and the wet and the mud. The Prussians are in front of us. Theyare drawn out in long widely separated columns. They have no idea thatwe are near them. One more effort, one more march, and we shall fallupon them. We shall pierce their lines, cut them to pieces, beat themin detail; we shall seize their camps, their guns, their clothes, theirfood. We shall take back the plunder they have gathered as they haveravaged France. They have stolen and destroyed and murdered--you haveseen it. One more march, one more battle for----" he hesitated amoment--"for me, " he said with magnificent egotism and audacity. "Ihave not forgotten how to lead, nor you to follow. We will show themthat at the great game of war we are still master players. Come, ifthere be one too weary to walk, he shall have his Emperor's horse and Iwill march afoot as I have often done for France. "

He spoke with all his old force and power. The tremendous personalmagnetism of the man was never more apparent. The young men of Ney'scorps thrilled to the splendid appeal. There was somethingfascinating, alluring in the picture. They hated the Prussians. Theyhad seen the devastated fields, the dead men and women, the ruinedfarms. The light from the fire played mystically about the greatEmperor on his white horse. He seemed to them like a demi-god. Therewere a few old soldiers in the battalion. The habit of years was uponthem. 

"_Vive l'Empereur_, " one veteran shouted. 

Another caught it up and finally the whole division roared out thatfrightful and thrilling battle cry in unison. 

"That's well, " said the Emperor, a little color coming into his face. "If the lads are of this mettle, what may I expect of the old soldiersof the guard?"

"Forward! Forward!" shouted a beardless boy in one of the front ranks. 

"You hear, Marshal Ney?" said Napoleon, turning to his fightingCaptain. "With such soldiers as these I can go anywhere and doanything. "

"Your Majesty, " cried a staff officer, riding up at a gallop, "thepeasants are bringing their horses in. There is a section of countryto the eastward which has not yet been ridden over by the enemy. "

"Good, " said the Emperor. "As fast as they come up dispatch them toMarmont. You will find me there by the fire in the square for the nexthour. Meanwhile I want the next brigade of horse that reaches Sézanneto be directed to scout in the direction of Aumenier for that missingwagon-train for which we----"

There was a sudden confusion on the edge of the line. The grenadiersforming a circle around the fire had caught a man wearing a Russiangreatcoat and were dragging him into the light. 

"What's this? _Mon Dieu_!" exclaimed Napoleon, recognizing the greenuniform which he had seen on many a battlefield. "A Russian! Here!"

"A soldier of France, Sire, " came the astonishing answer in excellentFrench from the supposed prisoner. 

At this amazing remark in their own tongue the bewildered grenadiers onguard released him. He tore off the green cap and dashed it to theground. 

"Give me a shako. Let me feel the bearskin of the guard again, " hecried impetuously, as his hands ripped open his overcoat, disclosinghis uniform. "I am a grenadier of the line, Sire. "

Napoleon peered down at him. 

"Ah, " he said, "I know you. You are called----"

"Bal-Arrêt, your Majesty. "

"Exactly. Have you stopped any more this time?"

"There is one in my left arm. Your guards hurt when they grasped it. But it is nothing. I didn't come here to speak of bullets, but of----"

"What?"

"The Russians, the Prussians. "

"Where did you get that coat and cap?"

"I rode with Jean Marteau, " answered the grenadier, greatly excited. 

"What of him? Is he alive?"

"I think so. "

"Did you leave him?"

"I did, Sire. "

"And why?"

"To bring you news. "

"Of Marshal Blücher's armies?"

The grenadier nodded his head. 

"What of them? Quick man, your tidings? Have you been among them?"

"All day long. "

"Where are they?"

"General Yorck with his men is at Étampes. "

"And Macdonald?"

"Fighting a rearguard action beyond Château-Thierry. "

"On what side of the Marne?"

"The north side, Sire. Right at La Ferte-sous-Jouarre. "

"What else?"

"Sacken's Russians are advancing along the main road through Montmirailtoward Paris. Olusuvieff's Russian division is at Champaubert. "

"And where are Blücher and Wittgenstein and Wrede?"

"Major Marteau will have to tell you that, Sire. He went that way. "

"You separated?"

"Yes, Sire. "

"You were to meet somewhere?"

"At the Château d'Aumenier. "

"Did you go there?"

"I did, Sire. "

"And you found?"

"The ground around the château filled with wagons. "

"A train?"

"Of arms, clothing, ammunition, everything the army lacks. "

"What was it doing there?"

"There had been a battle. Horses and men were slain; Frenchmen, Cossacks, Russians. I pillaged one wagon, " continued the grenadier. 

He drew forth from the pocket of the coat a bottle and a handful ofhard bread, together with what remained of the roast pig. 

"Will you share your meal with a brother soldier?" asked the Emperor, who was ordinarily the most fastidious of mortals, but who could onoccasion assume the manner of the rudest private soldier. 

"Gladly, " said the proud and delighted grenadier, handing the bottle, the bread and the meat to Napoleon, who took them and drank and aterapidly as he continued to question amid the approving murmurs of thesoldiers, who were so delighted to see their Emperor eat like a commonman that they quite forgot their own hunger. 

"What were the wagons doing there unguarded?"

"I think the men who captured the train were pursuing its guard. Justas I approached the chateau they came riding back. I remained quiet, watching them ride up to the door of the house, which they found barredapparently, for I could hear them beat on it with the butts of theirsabers and pistols. They built a fire and suddenly I heard shots. Bythe light I could see Russians falling. It came into my mind thatMajor Marteau had seized the castle and was holding it. "

"Alone?"

"One soldier of yours, Sire, ought to be able to hold his own against athousand Russians, especially inside a castle wall. "

"And what did you then?"

"I made ready my pistol, Sire, and when I saw a man climbing the wallto get in an open window I shot him. "

"And then?"

"They ran after me, fired at me but I escaped in the darkness. "

"You ran?"

"Because I knew that you must have the news and as Marteau was there itwas necessary for me to bring it. "

"You have done well, " said the Emperor in great satisfaction. "I thankyou for your tidings and your meal. I have never tasted a better. Doyou wish to go to the rear?"

"For a scratch in the arm?" asked old Bullet-Stopper scornfully. "I, who have carried balls in my breast and have some there now?"

"I like your spirit, " said the Emperor, "and I will----"

At this instant a staff officer rode up. 

"General Maurice's cavalry is just arriving, Sire, " he said. 

"Good, " said the Emperor. "The brave light-horseman! My sword hand!I will ride with him myself. Tell the Comte de Vivonne to lead hisdivision toward Aumenier, I will join him at once. " He turned to thoseof his staff who remained in the square. "Remain here, gentlemen. Tell the arriving troops that at daybreak we shall beat the Russians atChampaubert. Bid them hasten if they would take part in the victoryand the plunder. The rest will be easy. "

"And you, Sire?"

"I ride with the cavalry brigade to Aumenier. Tell the men that thewagon-train has arrived. We shall seize it. Food, arms, will bedistributed in the morning. Is that you, Maurice?" he continued, as agallant young general officer attended by a few aides rode up. 

"At your service, Sire, " answered a gay voice. 

"Your cavalry?"

"Weary but ready to follow the Emperor anywhere. "

"Forward, then. There is food and drink at the end of our ride. It isbut a few miles to Aumenier. "

"May I have a horse and go with you, Sire?" asked the old grenadier. 

"Assuredly. See that he gets one and a Cross of the Legion of Honor, too. Come, gentlemen, " continued the Emperor, putting spurs to histired horse. 

CHAPTER X

HOW MARTEAU WON THE CROSS

For a long time the besiegers had given little evidence of theirpresence. Through the loop-holes in the shutters fires could be seenburning, figures coming and going. They were busy about something, butjust what was not apparent. They had been unmolested by the defenders. Marteau had but three pistols and therefore three shots left. Pierre, upstairs, had but one. To kill one or two more Russians would not havebettered their condition. The pistols should be saved for a finalemergency. He had called up to Pierre and had cautioned him. Therewas nothing to do but to wait. 

From time to time the silence was broken by snatches of conversation. As, for instance, the Countess Laure, observing that Marteau wore uponhis breast the Grand Cross of the Legion of Honor, thus began, "You wear a great decoration for a simple----" She stopped awkwardly. 

"For a simple peasant you were about to say, mademoiselle, " answeredMarteau, smiling with a little touch of scorn. "In France to-day evena simple peasant may deserve and receive the favor of the Emperor. "

"I am sure that you are worthy of whatever distinction you may haveachieved, monsieur, " said the Countess gently, grieved at her lack ofconsideration and anxious to make amends. "And as one who takes pridein all associated with her ancient house will you tell me how you gotthat?"

"It was at Leipsic. "

"Ah, we beat you there, " said one Russian meaningly. 

"Yes, " said Marteau. "Perhaps after having seen your backs so manytimes we could afford to turn ours upon you once. "

"I was there, " said the other Russian triumphantly. 

"Were you also at Friedland, at Eylau, at Borodino, at----" beganMarteau angrily. 

"Gentlemen!" said the Countess. 

"Forgive, mademoiselle, " said the Frenchman quickly. "I, at least, will not fight our battles over in the presence of a woman. "

"But the cross?"

"It was nothing. I saved an eagle. The Emperor bestowed it on me. "

"Tell me about it. "

"I was on the bridge at Leipsic when it was blown up by that fatalmistake. The Port-Aigle was torn to pieces. The Colonel seized theEagle as it fell from his hand. I was next to him--afoot. A storm ofbullets swept over the river. As the Colonel on his horse was pushedover the parapet by the flying fugitives a shot struck him. He hadjust strength enough to gasp out, 'Save the Eagle' as he was sweptaway. I was lucky enough to catch the staff--a bullet had broken it--Iseized the upper half with the Eagle and the flag which had almost beenshot to pieces during the battle--the Fifth-of-the-Line had done itsfull duty that day--and I swam with it toward the bank. Really, mademoiselle, any soldier would have done as well. I only happened tobe there. "

"Go on, monsieur, I wish to hear everything. "

"At your pleasure, then, " said Marteau reluctantly, continuing hisstory. 

"The river was filled with men and horses. Marshal Poniatowski wasnear me. He had been wounded, and guided his swimming horse with hisleft hand. The current was swift. We were swept down the stream. Acavalryman next to me was shot from his horse. He fell over upon me. I was forced under water a moment. Another horse, swimmingfrantically, struck my shoulder with his hoof, fortunately it was theleft one. My arm was broken. I seized the tatters of the flag in myteeth--you know I am an expert swimmer, mademoiselle?"

"I know it, " answered the girl, her eyes gleaming at the recital. "Have you forgot the day when, disregarding your warnings, I fell intothe river and was swept away and how you plunged in and brought me tothe shore and never told my father?"

"I have not forgot, " said the young officer simply, "but it was not forme to remind you. "

"And I have not forgot, either. But continue the story, " said theyoung Countess, her eyes shining, her breath coming quicker, as shelistened to the gallant tale so modestly set forth. 

"With my right arm I swam as best I could. There was a horse nearbywhich had lost his rider. I grasped the saddle horn. Somehow Imanaged to reach the shore with the Eagle. I clambered up the bank, slippery with water and with blood, mademoiselle. The Russians werefiring at us from the town. A bullet struck me. "

"Where?"

"I am ashamed to say, in the back, " said the soldier, flushing at therecollection. "But if I had stood up and faced them the Eagle wouldhave been lost. "

The Russian laughed scornfully. 

"In the back, " he cried meaningly, "a fine place for a soldier!"

"Shame, " said the Countess quickly. 

"If I had faced them, " returned the French soldier simply, "I shouldhave been shot in the breast and killed, perhaps, but I should havelost the Eagle. It was my business to save the Eagle at all hazards, even though I should be branded with cowardice for having done so, " hewent on hotly. 

"I understand, " said the Countess. "I, who have known you from achild, know that you are a brave man, monsieur. Proceed. "

"I staggered up the bank. Fortune had brought me to the place wherethe Emperor stood watching. There were staff officers about him. Oh, very few. The slaughter had been dreadful, the confusion wasinconceivable, mademoiselle. They made way for me. How well Iremember the whole scene, " continued the young Frenchman. "The Emperorstood a little apart, his face pale, his head bent. He was frowningand whistling. "

"Whistling! Damme, " burst out Sir Gervaise Yeovil, deeply interestedin the unpretentious account of so heroic a deed. "What was hewhistling?"

"_Malbrook-s'en-va-t'en-guerre_. "

"By gad, " roared the Englishman. "Marlborough beat you. Just waituntil we come in touch with you. "

"There was no Napoleon there, " observed Marteau simply, as if that wereadequate answer. 

"Napoleon or no Napoleon, wait until Wellington----"

"We shall wait. "

"Pardon, Monsieur Yeovil, " said the Countess, "will you not allowMonsieur Marteau to proceed?"

"There is little more to tell, mademoiselle. The Emperor saw me comeup. I was wet, my arm hung useless, the bullet had gone through mybody. There was blood on my uniform coat. I thought that I was dying, that my end was at hand. My strength was ebbing. I concentrated allmy will and power. Holding the Eagle, I lifted it up in salute. 'Whathave we here?' cried the Emperor, fixing his glance upon me. 'Lieutenant Marteau, ' I answered. His voice came to me as in a dreamand my own voice sounded far away. 'Of what regiment?' 'TheFifth-of-the-Line, Sire. ' 'You have saved the Eagle. ' 'Yes, Sire, ' Ireplied. And then consciousness left me. As I fell I heard theEmperor say, 'See that he gets the Legion of Honor if he survives. 'People caught me in their arms. When I woke up I was in France. Here, at Aumenier, in my father's house. "

Young Marteau did not add to his story that, as he fell, he heard theEmperor, deeply moved, exclaim:

"With such men what resources does not France possess?"

"And did the Emperor give you the cross?" eagerly asked the girl. 

"It was forgot until a few days since. When I recovered I rejoined theregiment. To take the duty of an officer suddenly ill I happened to bestationed on service near the Emperor at Nogent. When others wereurging him to make terms, I, though a young soldier, ventured toexpress myself to the contrary. "

"And then?"

"His Majesty pardoned the liberty, recognized me, gave me his owncross, made me a Major on his staff. "

"And the Eagle?"

"It is still carried at the head of what remains of theFifth-of-the-Line, " said the young man proudly. 

"When we have taken your Emperor we will do away with those Eagles, andafter we restore her rightful king to France we shall give her back herancient flag of golden lilies, " said the Russian. 

"Precisely, " said Marteau sharply. "When you have taken the Emperoryou may do all that. The men who have made France so great under himwill care little what you do, monsieur, under such circumstances. "

"And why will they be so indifferent, Monsieur Jean?" asked theCountess curiously. 

"They will be dead, mademoiselle, and their Emperor, too, unless Godpreserve his life for some future use. "

"Happy, " said the young girl, "is the man who can inspire suchdevotion, monsieur. Although I have been trained differently I thinkthat----"

What the Countess thought was never said for at that instant the doorat the farther end of the great room was thrown open suddenly with aviolent crash, and into the apartment came crowding the score ofvillains and scoundrels who had been imprisoned below stairs. They hadmanaged to break out in some way and had returned to the great hall toseize again their captives and to wreak their vengeance upon theirbetrayer. They had got at the wine and were inflamed with drink aswell as revenge and savage passion. They had realized, of course, thatsome enemies were outside but they had not clearly grasped thesituation. All they thought of at the time were the people in thegreat hall. They came crowding through the big doorway, several ofthem handling pistols and all of them shouting savage and fearsomecries of revenge and triumph. 

Instantly the pistols were presented, the triggers pressed and half adozen bullets swept through the room. Marteau had seen the firstmovement of the door. He had divined what had happened. Before thepistols had been leveled he was by the side of the Countess. The tableat which she sat was a huge and heavy one. With one movement he hurledher, chair and all, to the floor, with the other he threw the table onits side in front of her. One of the bullets grazed his cheek, theothers swept harmlessly through the room. He seized from another tabletwo of his remaining pistols and discharged them squarely into the faceof the crowding mass at the other end of the room at point-blank range. The sounds of the shots still echoed when he cried out:

"The knife, Countess. Cut the bonds of the prisoners. We must fighthere for our lives and your honor. "

The Countess Laure was quick to understand. 

"You are safe now. They have no more shots. Hasten, " he urged, reaching down a hand and assisting her to her feet. 

He clutched the barrels of his pistols thereafter and hurled themdirectly into the faces of the infuriated men. Five of them were downand his prompt action had given the people in the room a little respite. 

"Gentlemen, " cried Marteau, sweeping out his sword and stepping intothe open space between the prisoners and the overturned table on onehand and the renegades on the other, "quick, take your swords for thehonor of the Countess and for your lives. "

The man who led the renegades had some idea of military tactics. Hespoke a few sharp words and half a dozen of them backed out of theroom, entered the outer hall and ran around to the door on the side ofthe apartment which gave access to the great hall. The little band ofdefenders retreated into a corner near the fireplace, which was raiseda step or two above the floor of the room. 

Meanwhile Laure had cut the lashings of the Russians, the Cossacks, andthe Englishman. They staggered to their feet numb from their longbondage, but inspired by the frightful imminence of their peril theyseized their swords and presented a bold front to the two-sided enemy. There was one pistol left charged. Marteau handed that to the girl. 

"The last shot, mademoiselle, " he said meaningly, "for yourself if----"

"I understand. "

"If you could only get to the door, " growled the Russian commander, "mymen outside would make short work of----"

"It is impossible until we have dealt with these villains, " saidMarteau. "On guard!" he cried as the marauders suddenly leaped forward. 

The big Englishman, burly, tremendously powerful for all his advancingyears, dropped his sword for a moment, picked up one of the heavy oakchairs and hurled it full into the face of the larger body at thefurther end of the room. One stumbled over it, two others fell. Thenext moment both parties were upon the little group. In their haste, in their drunken excitement, the marauders had not thought to rechargetheir pistols. With swords, scythes and clubs they fell on the sixmen. Their numbers worked to their disadvantage. Three of the mensurrounding the woman, the Frenchman and the two Russian guardsmen, were accomplished swordsmen. The Cossacks were not to be disdained inrough-and-tumble fighting and the Englishman was a valiant ally. Theirracial antagonisms were forgot in their common danger and the deadlyperil of the woman. 

The swords of the soldiers flashed as they thrust and parried. TheCossacks, less skillful, strove to beat down the attackers by sweepingslashes--not the best method for such close fighting. One Cossack waspierced through the breast by a thrust from a renegade and another wascut from his neck almost to his heart by a blow from a scythe. One ofthe Russian officers was wounded, fell to his knees and was dispatched. The Englishman was hit by a billet of wood and dazed. Marteau and theother Russian were still unharmed. But it was going hard with them. In fact, a fierce blow on his blade from a bludgeon shivered the weaponof the Frenchman. A sword was aimed at his heart. There was ablinding flash, a detonation, and the man who held it staggered back. The Countess, the last pistol almost touching the man's body, hadpulled the trigger. Marteau seized the sword of the man who hadmenaced him. The next instant the château was shaken by a terrificroar. The Russians outside having constructed a rude bomb had blown upthe door. 

For a second the combat ceased. The hall was full of smoke. Fromoutside came shots, shrieks, cries, loud curses and groans, cheers, French and Russian voices, the galloping of horses, words of command. The French were there. 

"To me, " shouted Marteau at the top of his voice. "France!"

The first to heed the call was young Pierre. He descended the hall, watched the conflict a moment and, having possessed himself of a club, battered down the man nearest him, unsuspecting an attack from therear, then ranged himself by the side of the surviving Russian and theFrenchman. He did not come through scathless, however, for one of therenegades cut him fiercely as he passed. He stood erect by an effortof will but it was evident he could now add little to the defense. TheRussian took the pistol from his hand. The next second the great hallwas filled with shouting figures of soldiers. Into the smoke andconfusion of the room came Napoleon. 

CHAPTER XI

AN EMPEROR AND A GENTLEMAN

"The Emperor!" cried Marteau. 

The Russian officer recognized Napoleon as quickly as the other. TheEmperor advanced, the soldiers crowding after threw themselves upon therenegades immediately, while the Emperor strode forward alone. Theyoung Russian noble was a quicker witted man than his countrymenordinarily were. He saw a chance to end everything then and there, todo his country a great service, although his life would be forfeitedinstantly in the doing of it. 

"My chance, " he shouted, raising Pierre's pistol. 

The shot was an easy one. It was impossible to miss. Marteau hadstepped forward. The thrill in the tones of the man's voice attractedhis attention. One glance and he saw all. He threw himself in frontof the Emperor just as the Russian pressed the trigger. At the samemoment the Countess Laure, who stood nearest him, struck up theRussian's arm. The bullet buried itself in the ceiling above. 

"Thank God!" cried Marteau as the sound died away and he saw theEmperor standing unharmed. 

Napoleon's keen eye had seen everything. 

"It is this lady, " said he gracefully, "to whom my safety is due. AndI am not unmindful that you interposed your own body between the bulletand your Emperor. "

"Your Majesty, " cried Marteau, now that his Emperor was safe, fain todischarge his duty, "I have tidings of the utmost importance. I haveheld this château and detained this convoy the Russians had captured. It contains powder, food, guns----"

"I know, " said the Emperor. "It comes in the nick of time. "

"And I have to report, Sire, that the corps of Wittgenstein, Wrede andof the Field-Marshal Blücher, himself, are strung out at long intervalsto the eastward of Champaubert. They have no idea of your proximity. "

"Are the divisions in supporting distance of one another?"

"No, Sire. Olsuvieff's division lies isolated at Champaubert. As tothe divisions of Sacken and Yorck I think----"

"I have already received information concerning them, " said theEmperor, "from your friend, Bullet-Stopper. He should be here. "

"I am here, your Majesty, " roared the grenadier, stepping forward, "andsaving your Imperial Presence I am glad to see the lad. It was I, "continued the grenadier, addressing Marteau and presuming on thefamiliarity with which Napoleon sometimes treated his men, "that firedthe shot that brought the man down from the window. "

"And that shot saved us, " said young Marteau. "This young peasanthere----" he bent over Pierre--"he is not dead, Sire, but sorelywounded--he kept them out up there while we held the room here. "

"But these?" asked Napoleon, looking at the prisoners. 

"Renegades who had taken advantage of the absence of the Russianspursuing the escort to the wagon-train to seize the castle. "

"Why did you not impress them for the defense thereof?" asked theEmperor. "They were French undoubtedly----"

"I found them fighting against us. "

Rapidly and in few words Marteau told the story of the night, touchinglightly upon his own part, but the Emperor was soldier enough to readbetween the words of the narration and reconstruct the scene instantly. He turned to one of his officers. 

"Take those scoundrels out. Put them up against the wall and shootthem out of hand. They disgrace the name of France. Bid the surgeonsof the command come here to look to the wounded. "

"They are past hope, except the French boy, your Majesty, " said Yeovil, who having recovered his own consciousness speedily had been examiningthem meanwhile. "I have some skill in wounds. One Cossack is alreadydead. It would be a mercy to put that other out of his misery withthat horrible scythe slash. "

"The Russian officer?"

"Gone, too. "

"And who are you?"

"I am a barrister, " answered the Englishman in bad but comprehensibleFrench. 

"A man of the law. You look it not, " said the Emperor, smiling faintly. 

"Necessity makes us all resort to the sword, " said Sir Gervaise, looking at his bloody blade, for he had fought valiantly with the restand would have been killed but he had been knocked senseless with thatbillet of wood which had hit him on the head and felled him to thefloor. 

"You are, by your language, an Englishman. "

"I am, and proud of it. "

"The English, " said Napoleon slowly, "have been my bitterest enemies. "

"Pardon, Sire, " said the Russian bluntly, "we children of the whiteCzar will dispute that honor with them. "

"And you sought to kill me?" said the Emperor, turning upon the other. "You are a brave man, " he added. 

"And I would have done so but for----"

"Bah!" interrupted Napoleon contemptuously. "The bullet is not moldedthat is destined for me. My career is not to be cut short by the handof any young boy who wears the uniform of the Russian guard. Silence, monsieur! Take him prisoner. See that he be kept under close guard. When we have taken Olsuvieff's division to-morrow and then Sacken'sthere will be many of his comrades to bear him company to Paris. Didany of the men outside escape?"

"No, Sire, " answered General Maurice, entering the room just in time tohear the question. "The wood around the château was completely filledwith my men. Those we have not killed here we have taken prisoner. Most of them were shot down as they strove to break through. "

"That is well, " said the Emperor. 

"And the convoy?" asked General Maurice. 

"Detach a regiment to escort it back to Sézanne. Let it be distributedto the regiments and divisions as they arrive. "

"And those who have gone on ahead?"

"Their arms, equipment and provisions are in the hands of thePrussians. We shall march immediately. As for you, mademoiselle, whatis your name?"

"I am the Comtesse Laure d'Aumenier. "

"H'm, the daughter of the Comte Robert d'Aumenier, who made hissubmission to the Empire and received back his estates, I believe?"

"The same, Sire. "

"Where is he?"

"Dead, Sire, these two years. "

"And you?"

"I went to my uncle in England. "

"To the enemy!" exclaimed Napoleon sharply. 

"To the enemy, " answered the Countess, looking at him courageously. 

"And you came back for what purpose?"

"The estates are to be sold. There were certain papers of which Ialone knew the hiding place. There was no way for me to reach themsave by the courtesy of the Czar Alexander. He sent me toField-Marshal Blücher with instructions to provide me with an escort tothis château. The Field-Marshal did so, and the rest you know. "

"And you propose to sell estates that have been in the hands of thefamily for so long a period? It seems to me that I visited them oncewhen I was a military student at Brienne. Was not your uncle there atthe time, an officer in command?"

"I have heard him say so. "

"I remember him very well now. "

"And he you, your Majesty. "

"And he intends now to sell the estates?"

"He did, Sire, but now that there is a possibility of the re--ofthe----"

"The return of the Bourbons, " said Napoleon, divining her thought asthe Countess paused in confusion, "There is no possibility of that, mademoiselle. In three weeks the armies opposing me will have beenhurled back beyond the frontier. Your family has forfeited its rightsto any consideration at my hands. Your uncle is an _emigré_ who hasnever made his submission. I find you, a Frenchwoman, in the companyof my enemies. Your estates are forfeited. Major Marteau, I make youComte d'Aumenier. The domains are yours. "

"I accept them, your Majesty. "

"What! Is it possible----" cried the Countess Laure, her face flaming. 

"Silence, mademoiselle. By the laws of war I could have you shot. Itwould be a fine example. No Frenchman, however high in rank andstation, no Frenchwoman, however young or beautiful, can fight againstme and France with impunity. Have you anything to say why I should notmete out to you this well-deserved punishment?"

"Nothing, " said the young woman with proud disdain. "The revolutionhas taken the lives of many of my people. I am not better than they. You are the very spirit of the revolution incarnate, Sire, and----"

"Your Majesty, " interposed General Maurice. 

"Well, sir?" said Napoleon. 

General Maurice, a famous light horseman, otherwise known as the Countde Vivonne, was an old friend and a devoted follower of the Emperor. He had interfered before on occasion between Napoleon and his victims. He knew the Emperor thoroughly and loved him. He realized that it washis time to interpose, or someone's, and he had intuition enough tosuspect that his interposition would be most welcome, that indeedNapoleon was playing, as he sometimes loved to do, a little comedy. With a wave of his hand the general checked Marteau, whom he knewslightly, who had sprung forward to protest to the Emperor at the wordsof the woman he loved. 

"Allow me a word, Sire, " asked the General with that exquisite mixtureof courtesy, deference and resolution which characterized hisintercourse with the Emperor. 

"I am always glad to hear from you, my good Maurice, " said the Emperorfamiliarly. "What have you to say?"

"This young woman is no traitor to you or to France, Sire, howeverstrange her position. "

"How do you make that out?" asked the Emperor, the flickering of asmile playing about his lips. 

"It was her hand that struck up the Russian's pistol so that the bulletwent there, " the General of cavalry pointed upward a moment and thenhis hand fell until his index finger was trained upon the Emperor'sheart, "instead of there, " he added meaningly. 

"Very good, " said the Emperor graciously. "But had she not struck upthat hand it was in Marteau's heart that the bullet would have lodged, not in mine, if I remember rightly. "

"And if that gives me a claim, Sire, to your consideration----"

"Have I not rewarded you enough, " asked the Emperor, "in adding theofficial stamp of a patent to the nobility of heart which is alreadyyours and by giving you the forfeited lands of Aumenier to boot?"

"And I would give them all for the safety of the lady yonder, whosefamily mine have served for eight hundred years, with whom I playedwhen a boy, and be content to follow your Majesty as the simple soldierI have always been. "

"Brave heart and true, " said the Emperor, touched. "Mademoiselle, youcannot go back to Blücher. Within two days his army will be no more. I will give you a safe conduct. You can remain here for the night. Couriers will be dispatched to Troyes and to Paris under escort in themorning. They will take you there. You have friends there, I presume?"

"Many. "

"You can remain there or, if opportunity arises, I will give orders tohave you safely conducted so you can go back to England. "

"And me, Sire?" growled out Sir Gervaise Yeovil. 

The Emperor laughed. 

"I am too good a soldier to fight with men of the law, " he said. "Youmay go with your protégée and share her fortunes. "

"I thank your Majesty, " said the Englishman, touched in his bluntnature by this extraordinary magnanimity. "I will report yourconsideration to my king and his people and----"

"And say to them that I long for the moment when I can measure swordswith the Duke of Wellington. "

"And may that moment come speedily, " returned Sir Gervaise. 

"As for the rest, " said the Emperor, turning away in high good humor, "Marteau, you have been continuously on service for two days and twonights and you are wounded----"

"It is nothing. "

"Remain here with old Bullet-Stopper, who, true to his name, has hadanother touch of the enemy's lead. General Maurice, detail a score ofthe weakest of your command, those slightly wounded, to whom a night'srest would be useful. They shall remain here until the courier stopsfor the lady and her English friend, and then under Marteau's commandrejoin me in the morning. "

"Very good, Sire, " said General Maurice, turning away. 

"I thank your Majesty, " said Marteau, "for all you have done for me, and for the Comtesse d'Aumenier. "

"And I thank the Emperor also, " said the young woman, smiling at him. "Your Majesty's generosity almost wins me to an imperial allegiance. "

Napoleon laughed. 

"Not even the Emperor, " he said proudly, "is as black as he is paintedby traitors and the English, Mademoiselle!" he bowed abruptly but notungracefully. "Come, gentlemen, " he said, turning on his heel, "wemust march. "

CHAPTER XII

AN ALLIANCE DECLINED

As the Emperor left the room, followed by the officers and men, alittle silence fell over the three people remaining therein. 

"Monsieur le Comte d'Aumenier!" exclaimed the Countess Laure, wonder, derision and disdain in her voice. "Your château, your domain!"

She looked about the great hall and laughed scornfully. Young Marteauturned crimson. He threw up his head proudly. 

"Mademoiselle----" he began sternly, his voice full of indignantprotest and resentment. 

"Don't be too hard on the lad, Countess, " interposed the Englishman, his interest aroused. "By gad, he saved your honor, your life, and----"

"And, if I mistake not, I repaid the obligation by saving his lifealso, sir. "

"And I recognize it, and am grateful, mademoiselle. "

"I am ordered to report to you, sir, " said a young man, coming into theroom followed by a file of dismounted soldiers, and relieving asituation growing most tense. 

"Very good, " said Marteau, devoutly thankful for the interruption. "You will dispose your men so as to guard the approaches of the châteauat every hand. You will keep a strict lookout, and you will awaken meat dawn. I think there is nothing to be apprehended from the enemy. The advance of the Emperor will have cleared all this section of evenwandering troops of Cossacks by this time, but there are masterless menabroad. "

"I shall know how to deal with them, " said the young officer, saluting. 

"You will also send men to remove these dead bodies and clear up thisroom. Take this poor lad"--pointing to Pierre--"and see that he iscared for. You will find a place for him upstairs. Your regimentalsurgeon----"

"Is attending to the wounded. I will see that the boy gets every care, sir. "

"And Bal-Arrêt?"

"His arm is dressed, and he is the admiration of the camp-fire. "

"I suppose so. "

"Any other orders, Major?"

"None; you may go. "

"Mademoiselle, " said Marteau, facing the Countess as the officer turnedaway, his men taking the dead bodies and the wounded peasant with them, "you wrong me terribly. "

"By saving your life, pray?" she asked contemptuously. 

"By--by--your----" he faltered and stopped. 

"In what way, Monsieur le Comte?" interrupted the young woman, who knewvery well what the young man meant. 

In her irritating use of his new-found title, and in the way in whichit fell from her lips, she cut him like a whip-lash, and she did itdeliberately, too--he, the Count, forsooth!

"Call me Marteau, " he protested, stepping toward her, at which she fellback a little. "Or, better still, as when I was a boy, your faithfulfollower, Jean. "

"If the Emperor has the power, he has made you a Count; if he has not, you are not. "

"What the Emperor makes me is of little consequence between us, mademoiselle. It is what I am that counts. "

"And you remain, then, just Jean Marteau, of the loyal Marteaux?"

"One does not wipe out the devotion of years in a moment. My fatherserved yours, your grandfather, your uncle, your father. I amstill"--he threw up his head proudly as he made the confession--"yourman. "

"But the title----"

"What is a title? Your uncle is in England. He does not purpose tocome back to France unless he whom he calls his rightful king againrules the land. Should that come to be, my poor patent of nobilitywould not be worth the parchment upon which it was engrossed. "

"And the lands?"

"In any case I would but hold them in trust for the Marquis----"

"My uncle is old, childless. I am the last of the long line. "

"Then I will hold them for you, mademoiselle. They are yours. Whenthis war is over, and France is at peace once more, I will take myfather's place and keep them for you. "

"I could not accept such a sacrifice. "

"It would be no sacrifice. "

"I repeat, I cannot consent to be under such obligation, even to you. "

"There is a way----" began the young Frenchman softly, shooting ameaning glance at the young woman. 

"I do not understand, " she faltered. 

"I am peasant born, " admitted Marteau, "but, though no gentle bloodflows through my veins, my family, I think, is as old as your own. "

"It is so, " agreed the Countess, trembling as she began to catch themeaning. "Oh, monsieur, stop. "

"As there has never a d'Aumenier failed to hold the château so therehas never failed a Marteau to follow him, " went on the young man, unheeding her protest. 

"I care as little for distinctions of rank as any demoiselle of oldFrance, perhaps, but----"

"Mademoiselle is right. As for myself, I am a republican at heart, although I follow the Emperor. I, too, care little for thedistinctions of rank, for titles, yet I have earned a title in theservice of the Emperor. Through him, even humble men rise high and gofar. Will you----"

"Monsieur, you must not go on!" cried the girl, "thrusting out herhand, as if to check him. 

"Pardon, " said the young Frenchman resolutely. "Having gone thus far Imust go further. Humble as I am, obscure though I be, I have dared toraise my eyes to heaven--to you, mademoiselle. In my boyhood days youhonored me with your friendship, your companionship. I have madesomething of myself. If mademoiselle would only deign to---- It isimpossible that she should love me--it would be an ineffablecondescension--but is there not some merit in the thought that the lastsurvivors of the two lines should unite to----"

"Impossible!" cried the Countess, her face flushing. "My uncle wouldnever consent. In my veins is the oldest, the noblest blood of France. Even I could not----"

"Be it so, " said Marteau, paling, but standing very erect. "It is, ofcourse, impossible. There is not honor enough or merit enough in theworld, " he went on bitterly, "to obliterate the difference in stationbetween us. The revolution, after all, changed little. Keep thetitle, keep the estates, mademoiselle, I want them not, " continued theyoung soldier bitterly. "Having aspired to you, do you think these arecompensations?"

"You saved my life, " said the girl falteringly. 

"It was nothing. You did as much for me. "

"And my honor, " she added. 

"I ask no reward. "

"By gad!" said Yeovil at this juncture, "I'm damned if I see how youcan withstand him. He is a gallant lad. He has fought bravely and hehas pleaded nobly. You may not win the Countess--as a matter of factshe is pledged to my son--but you deserve her. I've never been able tounderstand any kind of women, much less Frenchwomen, saving yourpresence, mademoiselle. Base-born you may be, Major Marteau, but Iknow a gentleman when I see him, I flatter myself, and, damme, youngman, here's my hand. I can understand your Emperor better since he caninspire the devotion of men like you. "

The two men clasped hands. The Countess looked on. She stepped softlynearer to them. She laid her hand on Marteau's shoulder. 

"Monsieur--Jean, " she said, and there was a long pause between the twowords, "I would that I could grant your request, but it is--yousee--you know I cannot. I am betrothed to Captain Yeovil, with myuncle's consent, of course. I am a very unhappy woman, " she ended, although just what she meant by that last sentence she hardly knew. 

"And this Captain Yeovil, he is a soldier?" asked Marteau. 

"Under Wellington, " answered the father. 

"Now may God grant that I may meet him!"

"You'll find him a gallant officer, " answered the sturdy old Englishmanproudly. 

"When I think of his father I know that to be true, " was the politerejoinder. 

The little Countess sank down on the chair, buried her face in herhands and burst into tears. 

"Well, of all the----" began the Englishman, but the Frenchman checkedhim. 

"Mademoiselle, " he said softly, "were every tear a diamond they couldnot make for me so precious a diadem as they do when I think that youweep for me. I wish you joy with your English captain. I am yourhumble servant ever. "

And Laure d'Aumenier felt very much comforted by those words. It wasabsurd, inconceivable, impossible, of course, and yet no handsomer, braver, truer, more considerate gentleman had ever crossed her horizonthan this descendant of an ancient line of self-respecting, honorableyeomen. She contrasted him with Captain Yeovil, and the contrast wasnot to Marteau's disadvantage! No, decidedly not!

CHAPTER XIII

THE THUNDERBOLT STROKE

On the tenth of February, 1814, for the first time in many days, thesun shone brightly. Nevertheless there was little change in thetemperature; the thaw still prevailed. The sun's heat was not greatenough to dry the roads, nor was the weather sufficiently cold tofreeze them. As the Emperor wrote to his brother, with scarcely anyexaggeration, there was still six feet of mud on highways and by-paths. 

Napoleon, by rapid marching at the head of Maurice's Squadrons d'Élite, mounted grenadiers, chasseurs, hussars and dragoons, had easilyattained a position in front of the van of the army commanded byMarmont, which had rested a few hours at St. Prix, where the roadcrossed the Petit Morin on a bridge. His requisition on the peasantryhad been honored, and great numbers of fresh, vigorous draft horses hadbeen brought in from all sides. There was not much speed to be got outof these farm animals, to be sure, but they were of prodigiousstrength. The ordinary gun teams were relieved, and numbers of theseplow-horses attached to the limbers pulled the precious artillerysteadily toward the enemy. 

Scouts had discovered the fact that Olsuvieff's division was preparingbreakfast on the low plateau upon which was situated the village ofChampaubert, which had been observed by Marteau and Bal-Arrêt. Napoleon reconnoitered the place in person from the edge of the wood. Nansouty's cavalry had earlier driven some Russian skirmishers out ofBaye, but Olsuvieff apparently had no conception of the fact that thewhole French army was hard by, and he had contented himself withsending out a few scouts, who, unfortunately for him, scouted in thewrong direction. 

While waiting for the infantry under Marmont to come up, Napoleon sentNansouty's cavalry around to the left to head off Olsuvieff's advanceand interpose between him and the rear guard of Sacken's division. Even the noise of the little battle--for the skirmish was a hot one--amile down the road, did not apprise the Russian of his danger, and itwas not until the long columns of the French came out of the wood anddeployed and until the guns were hauled into the clearing and wheeledinto action, that he awoke to the fact that an army was upon him and hewould have to fight for his life. 

With his unerring genius Napoleon had struck at the key position, thevery center of Blücher's long drawn-out line. With but thirty thousandmen attacking eighty thousand he had so maneuvered as to be inoverwhelming force at the point of contact! In other words, he had gotthere first with the most men. Blücher's army was separated intodetachments and stretched out over forty miles of roads. 

Olsuvieff's division comprised five thousand men with twenty guns. Atfirst Napoleon could bring against him not many more than that numberof men and guns, to which must be added Nansouty's small cavalrydivision. And Olsuvieff, with all the advantages of the position, madea magnificent defense. As a defensive fighter the stubborn Russiantook a back seat for no soldier in Europe. But the most determinedresistance, the most magnificent courage, could not avail againstoverwhelming numbers, especially directed and led by Napoleon inperson, for with every hour the numbers of the assailants wereincreased by the arrival of fresh troops, while with every hour thedefense grew weaker through casualties. 

Olsuvieff might have surrendered with honor at midday, but he was astubborn soldier, and he realized, moreover, that it was his duty tohold Napoleon as long as possible. Even the most indifferent commandercould not fail to see the danger to Blücher's isolated corps. Couriersbroke through to the east to Sacken and Yorck, who together had overthirty-five thousand men under their command, and to the west toBlücher, with as many more men, telling all these commanders of theextreme peril of the center and of the frightfully dangerous situationin which their carelessness and the ability of their great enemy hadinvolved them. The noise of the firing, too, was carried far and wideover the broad open fields and cultivated farms of the rolling prairieof Champagne. 

Blücher, however, could not credit the intelligence. He believed itimpossible for Napoleon to have escaped from Schwarzenberg. He couldnot conceive that Napoleon would leave the Austrians unopposed to marchto Paris if they would. He could not think that even Napoleon wouldventure to attack eighty thousand men with thirty, and, if he did, hereasoned that Sacken and Yorck and Olsuvieff, singly or in combination, were easily a match for him. The messengers must surely be mistaken. This could only be a raid, a desperate stroke of some corps ordivision. Therefore, he halted and then drew back and concentrated onhis rear guard waiting for further news. 

Sacken and Yorck were nearer the fighting. They could hear and see forthemselves. They at once gave over the pursuit of Macdonald andretraced their steps. Olsuvieff made good his defense until nightfall, when the survivors gave up the battle. Fifteen hundred men of hisbrave division had been killed on the plateau. As many more werewounded and captured, most of whom subsequently died, and there wereabout two thousand unhurt prisoners. Their ammunition was exhausted. They were worn out. They were overwhelmed by massed charges at last. Blücher's line was pierced, his center crushed, and one of the finestdivisions of his army was eliminated. 

In the wagon train recaptured at Aumenier had been found arms andprovisions and ammunition. Another Prussian wagon train, blunderingalong the road, was seized by Maurice's cavalry, which had been sentscouting to the eastward. From the Russian camp the starving Frenchhad got food, more arms and clothing. The dead were quickly despoiled, even the living were forced to contribute to the comfort of theirconquerors. It was night before the last French division got up fromSézanne, but there was enough food and weapons for all. 

A new spirit had come over that army. What had seemed to them apurposeless, ghastly march through the mud was now realized to be oneof the most brilliant manoeuvres Napoleon had ever undertaken. Theconscripts, the raw boys, the National Guards, many of whom had been inaction for the first time that day, were filled with incredibleenthusiasm. They were ready for anything. 

But the army must have rest. It must be permitted to sleep the night. Accordingly the divisions were disposed in the fields. Those who hadfought hardest were given quarters in the village; the next were placedin the captured Russian camp; the others made themselves as comfortableas they could around huge fires. The poor prisoners had little ornothing. The ragged French were at least better clothed than they werein the morning. The defenseless had arms and the whole army had beenfed. There was wine, too; the Russian commissariat was a liberal one. There was much laughter and jovialness in the camps that night. Ofcourse, the guard and the other veterans expected nothing else, but tothe youngsters the brilliant stroke of Napoleon was a revelation. 

As the little Emperor rode from division to division, sometimesdismounting and walking through the camps on foot, he was received withsuch acclaim as reminded him of the old days in Italy. And, indeed, the brief campaign which he had so brilliantly inaugurated can befavorably compared to that famous Italian adventure, or to any othershort series of consecutive military exploits in the whole history ofwar. 

They said that the Emperor had hesitated and lost his great opportunityat Borodino. They said that he had frightfully miscalculated atMoscow, that his judgment had been grievously at fault in the wholeRussian campaign. They said that he had sat idle during a long daywhen the fortunes of his empire might have been settled at Bautzen. They said that, overcome by physical weariness, he had failed to grasphis great opportunity after the victory at Dresden. They said thatLeipsic and the battles that preceded it showed that he had lost theability to see things with a soldier's eye. They declared that he madepictures and presented them to himself as facts; that he thought as anEmperor, not as a Captain. They said that in this very campaign inFrance, the same imperial obsession had taken such hold upon him thatin striving to retain everything from Holland to the end of the Italianpeninsula he stood to lose everything. They said that, if he hadconcentrated all his armies, withdrawn them from outlying dependencies, he could have overwhelmed Blücher and Schwarzenberg, the CzarAlexander, the Emperor Francis and King William, and that, havinghurled them beyond the Rhine, these provinces in dispute would havefallen to his hand again. They said that his practical omnipotence hadblinded his judgment. 

Those things may be true. But, whether they be true or not, no manever showed a finer strategic grasp of a situation, no man everdisplayed more tactical ability on a given field, no man ever conducteda series of more brilliant enterprises, no man ever utilized a small, compact, well-handled force opposed to at least two and a half timesits number, no man ever conducted a campaign which stood higher from aprofessional point of view than this one which began with the marchfrom Nogent and the destruction at Champaubert. 

There was no rest for Napoleon that night. Undoubtedly he was not nowthe man he had been. Paralyzing physical disabilities before and afterinterfered with his movements. The enormous strains to which he hadsubjected his body and brain sometimes resulted in periods of mentalblindness and physical prostration. It was whispered that a strangemalady--was it some form of epilepsy?--sometimes overcame the Emperorso that his faculties and abilities were in abeyance for hours. No manhad ever abused such wonderful mental and physical gifts as heoriginally had possessed by subjecting them to such absolutelyimpossible strains as he, and Nature was having her revenge. But forthat week in February and for a time thereafter there was a strange andmarvelous return of the Emperor's physical powers. 

He had sustained more fatigue than any man in the army, because to allof the personal sufferings of the march in the long day and thesleepless night and the conduct of the battle had been addedresponsibility, but he was as fresh as a boy. His pale cheek showedrare color; his eyes sparkled; his voice was clear and sharp. Thenervous twitching of his mouth ceased. The gray look vanished. He wasonce more the boyish Captain of the Army of Italy, at whom the hugegrenadiers laughed and the gray-headed veterans marveled. 

The Emperor's scouts had been hard at work during the day. They wereconstantly coming and going at his headquarters at Champaubert withdetailed accounts of the situation of the Russians and the Prussians. The Emperor had a momentous decision to make. From the position he hadgained it was equally as easy for him to strike east as to strike west. He decided at last to strike west, realizing that no captain, much lessfiery old Blücher, without an absolute forfeiture of his reputation asa soldier could afford to leave his van unsupported, but that thePrussian Field Marshal must advance to its support. If the Emperor'splans worked out, he could destroy that van, and then turn back andmete out the same fate to the main body coming to its rescue. 

Just about ten miles away to the westward, on the main road to Paris byway of La Ferte-sous-Jouarre, lay the village of Montmirail. As manymiles beyond Montmirail, on the same Paris road, Sacken, with twentythousand men, had been advancing. From Montmirail a road led northwardto Château Thierry and the crossing of the Marne, behind whichMacdonald had been driven by Yorck, with perhaps fifteen thousand more. The Emperor decided to seize Montmirail, throw out a corps to hold backYorck on the northern road, while he crushed Sacken on the other withthe remainder of the army, except one corps, which he would leave atChampaubert to delay Blücher's advance. These army corps were inreality nothing more than weak divisions, less than seven thousandstrong. 

Early in the afternoon Marteau, with old Bullet-Stopper and the littlesquadron of Maurice's cavalry, had rejoined the Emperor. He had beengreatly refreshed by his night's sleep. He had taken advantage of theearly hours of the morning to bury his father and sister, saying suchprayers as he could remember, in default of the parish priest, who hadbeen murdered. The Emperor having sent a courier with an escort backto Nogent, the Countess Laure and her English friend had elected to gowith them. They feared to be left alone in the château all day, in thedisturbed state of the country, and it was easier, perhaps, to reachParis from Nogent by way of the Seine than by going direct fromSézanne. Marteau had approved of their decision. 

The parting between the young people had been as formal as possible. The Englishman, on the contrary, with true British hospitality, hadsaid that if peace ever came he would indeed be glad to welcome him athis home in England. Marteau had sworn to hold the château and itsland in trust for the Countess, although she protested she would nothear of anything of the kind. And then he had bade her farewell. Hehad arrived in time to take part in the hard fighting at the close ofthe day, and had been busy during the early part of the night incarrying messages and resuming his duties at headquarters. 

At two o'clock in the morning Napoleon threw himself down on apeasant's bed in a hut and slept until four. At that hour he awakenedand summoned the officer on duty. Marteau presented himself. TheEmperor, as refreshed by his two hours of sleep as if he had spent thenight in a comfortable bed, addressed the young man familiarly. Nonecould unbend better than he. 

"My good Marteau, " he began. "But stop--Monsieur le Comted'Aumenier"--he smiled--"I have not forgot. Berthier has orders tosend to Paris to have your patent of nobility made out and to see thatthe confiscated Aumenier lands are transferred to you. "

"I thank your Majesty, " said the young aide, deeming it wiser to saynothing of his ultimate intentions regarding the patent of nobility andthe estates. 

"It would be a fine thing, " said the Emperor, "if you and that girlshould come together. She is the last of her line, I understand, saveher old uncle in England, who is unmarried and childless. Is it notso?"

"That is true, Sire. "

"Well, you couldn't do better. She is a woman of spirit andresolution. Her prompt action in the château last night showed it. Icommend her to your consideration. Were I your age and in your stationI should like nothing better. "

"Your Majesty anticipated my desire, my own proposition, in fact. "

"What? You struck while you had the opportunity? That was well. "

"But, unlike you, Sire, I struck unavailingly. "

"The lady refused?"

"Positively. She is of the oldest family in France, while I----"

"Marteau, " said the Emperor sharply, "no more of that. If you cannotbe a descendant, be an ancestor. Look at me. My family began atMontemotte, and to-day the mother of my son is a Hapsburg!"

"But she is engaged to the son of that Englishman, Sire. "

"Bah, what of that? Engagements can be broken, marriages evendissolved. The Holy Father at Rome will refuse me nothing. When Ihave beaten the allies I will take your affair in hand. There are fewpowers in Europe that will turn a deaf ear to the suggestions of theEmperor of the French, believe me. The lady shall be yours. "

"Your Majesty's power, " said the young officer dubiously, "does notextend to women's hearts. "

"Does it not?" laughed the Emperor grimly. "You shall see. My wordshall be law again everywhere. With my favor you will go far. Thereare no patents of nobility that stand higher than mine, for mine arebased on my recognition of merit alone, not on accident of birth. Youserved me well, and you shall see that I am not ungrateful. Meanwhile, to you a new duty is assigned. "

"I welcome it gladly. "

Napoleon took an order prepared the night before from a table. 

"This to General Nansouty. I want him to march at once. Read it. Youwill see, " he continued, "that Nansouty's cavalry is to hold Sacken incheck until I have seized Montmirail. He has guns with him. Let himdeploy, attack vigorously. Keep the enemy occupied and gradually fallback upon Montmirail. Ride with him yourself, and rejoin me atMontmirail about ten in the morning. We should be up then. Youunderstand?" said the Emperor, ready to explain his orders more fully, believing that an order could be more intelligently delivered if thepurport were explained verbally to the bearer, especially in the caseof a skilled and trusted young soldier like Marteau. 

"I understand, Sire. "

"Away, then. Continue to merit my favor, for upon that favorrests"--he laughed, he was in high good spirits and humor thatmorning--"the lady. "

Marteau saluted. In spite of himself a certain hope began to spring upin his heart. That Emperor was almost a demi-god to his men. Whateverhe had essayed he had generally achieved in times past, and who couldtell? Certainly they were on the eve of great events. 

CHAPTER XIV

THE HAMMER OF THE WAR GOD

Nansouty's brilliant cavalrymen were already awake and their generalhaving divined to some extent the part he was to play in the gloriousday, the eleventh of February, the trumpets were already calling hishorsemen to arms when Marteau delivered the order and took his place bythe General as the Emperor's representative, a high position and greatresponsibility for so young a soldier. They made a hasty breakfast andbroke camp. Indeed, there was little to break. The words are onlyused figuratively, since they had no tents. In half an hour afterMarteau had left the Emperor's headquarters, the squadrons were formed. Nansouty, attended by his staff and the young officer, galloped to thehead of the column, gave the word of command and the gallant horsementrotted down the road. 

They had been posted near Fromentières, about two miles fromChampaubert, for the night. The roads were bad, but they took to thefields, and by six o'clock they had passed through the town ofMontmirail, easily driving out a few straggling battalions whichoccupied it. By eight o'clock they were in touch with the columns ofSacken at Vieux Maisons. A bit of woodland covered their approach. Itwas not until they were almost upon them that Sacken's advance came intouch with them. The French horse followed the Russian outposts andadvance guards at a gallop back to the main column, upon which theyfell impetuously. Batteries were also deployed in the woods and openedon the Russians. 

Sacken's men had started after breakfast in a rather leisurely way, andthey had not progressed very far when Nansouty surprised them. TheFrench rode down the advance regiments, threw the heads of the columnsinto confusion, and then galloped back to the shelter of the wood. Believing that he was about to be attacked in force, Sacken deployed, wasting much valuable time before he discovered this was only a cavalryfeint, whereupon he moved forward. It was ten o'clock before hereached a large farm called Haute-Épine. By that time Napoleon wasready for him. He had left Marmont back at Champaubert to hold backBlücher. He threw Mortier forward on the Château-Thierry road to checkYorck. He put Friant, the veteran and splendid fighter, in échelonalong the La Ferte road; withdrew Nansouty's cavalry to cover his ownright, and put Ney and Ricard in his main battle line between Friant onthe road and the river on the left. The guard, with Maurice's cavalryd'élite, he posted on the edge of the woodland, north of Montmirail, ready to throw to the northwestward to Marmont, or to the west to thesupport of Ney and Friant, as events might determine. Thesedispositions were barely completed before the battle was joined by theRussian advance. 

Sacken, who really outnumbered the forces opposed to him by at leasttwo thousand men, since Mortier's corps, guarding the northwest road, was perforce inactive, and since six thousand men had been left atChampaubert under Marmont to retain Blücher, attacked with the utmoststubbornness and gallantry. He could make no impression on Friant, écheloned on the main road, and before the resolute resistance hisadvancing divisions slowly obliqued to the right toward another walledfarmhouse, called Épine-aux-Bois, in a stretch of lowland watered by abrook. 

Napoleon, seeing the whole course of the battle clearly, laid a trapfor him. He withdrew Nansouty from the battle, and ordered Ricard, incommand of his extreme left, to retreat slowly, fighting as ifdefeated. Sacken, as he saw the wavering on his right, threw hisheaviest battalions and regiments upon that point, and attacked withheadlong impetuosity. At the same time he had enough men left to keepFriant busy and in check. Napoleon, seeing the success of his ruse, suddenly brought up the Guard. He threw it around the right flank ofFriant, and Sacken's left immediately began to give way. Ricardstopped his retreat suddenly and stood like a stone wall. Hiswithdrawing Eagles moved forward. The advance of the Russian rightstopped also, the Muscovite officers and soldiers were greatly amazedby the sudden resistance of an enemy retreating a moment since. Onedivision of the Guard moved out to the support of Friant, who alsoadvanced. The other division joined Mortier, who was in a hot fightwith Yorck's cavalry and light infantry. Napoleon now turned toGeneral Maurice, who had ridden up in advance of his horsemen. 

"There"--he pointed down the hill toward the dark masses of the Russianright--"there's your chance, General. "

The Comte de Vivonne needed but the word. Turning in his saddle heraised his sword. His cavalry had been waiting with unconcealedimpatience during the morning. Eagerly they responded to the command. Dashing down the hill they fell on the puzzled Russian infantry aroundÉpine-aux-Bois. Ricard's men opened to give them way. What had been atriumphant advance was turned into a retreat. The retreat bade fair tobe a disaster, but the Russians, as has been noted, were splendiddefensive soldiers. They formed squares. Although regiment afterregiment had been ridden over and beaten to pieces, those who remainedfought stubbornly. 

Sacken perceived now that his only hope was to effect a junction withYorck. He withdrew his men under cover of his artillery toVieux-Maisons, and began to lead them by the left flank, at the sametime sending frantic messages to Yorck, imploring him to hasten. ButYorck's guns were mired. He had only the teams attached to them. Hecould get no other horses. He was unaccountably delayed. He had facedabout at the sound of the firing, but the movements of his main bodywere slow, deliberate. Nansouty, who had opened the battle, was nowsent in by Napoleon to deliver the _coup-de-grâce_. Withcharacteristic gallantry he fell upon the Russian columns. 

Sacken was driven from the field. In killed, wounded, and prisoners hehad lost half his force and all of his guns. His troops streamedwestward through roads and woods in wild confusion. He would have beenannihilated then and there but for the arrival of Yorck. The Prussianat last fell on Mortier's weak corps and the Guard on the northernroad. Mortier's men were outnumbered four to one. They made adesperate resistance, but it was not until Napoleon ordered up theother division of the Guard, which had only been lightly engaged, andMaurice's cavalry, that Yorck's advance was checked. 

The short day had drawn to a close. Preparations were made to pass thenight on the field and in the town. All of Sacken's baggage train andprovisions had fallen into Napoleon's hands. Montmirail had been amore decisive victory than Champaubert. Twenty thousand men had beeneliminated from calculations for the time being. Sending couriers toMacdonald to move down the banks of the Marne with all possible speed, to get in the rear of Yorck, with whom he purposed to deal on themorrow, Napoleon, in high spirits, made preparations for the next day'sbattle. 

The next morning, the thirteenth, leaving a heavy force to check anypossible attack by Sacken, who had, with incredible energy and labor, partially at least reorganized his shattered troops, but who was tooweak to do anything more than lead them away from any possible touchwith Napoleon's troops, the Emperor advanced toward the little villageof Château-Thierry. Yorck, by this time, had learned the full detailsof the disaster to Sacken. Indeed, several of Sacken's brigades hadjoined him, considerably augmenting his force. But he was now no matchfor Napoleon. To stay meant annihilation. He hastily made hisdisposition for a rear guard defense and a withdrawal. He made astubborn rear guard battle of it during the day, and, although he lostheavily in men, guns and supplies, he finally succeeded in crossing theMarne and breaking the bridges behind him. 

Macdonald had moved tardily. If he had shown half the enterprise ofthe Emperor he would have been at the crossing of the Marne in goodtime and Yorck would have been caught in a trap whence he could nothave extricated himself. As it was, Napoleon added largely to thenumber of prisoners taken and the number of enemies killed. Altogetherhe had put twenty-five thousand men out of action, in killed, woundedand prisoners. He had taken one hundred and twenty guns--so many thathe had to tumble them into the creeks and rivers, because he could nottransport them all. He had rearmed and reclothed and provided for hisgallant little army at the expense of the enemy. It was an exploit ofwhich even he could be proud. On the other hand, in these operationsthe French had lost some four thousand men killed and wounded, and, astheir army was so small, they could ill afford such a diminution oftheir forces. 

Meantime, Blücher, apprised of these disasters, and at last awakened tohis peril, bravely marched westward. He had come in touch withMarmont, and had driven him out of Champaubert after a desperateresistance. The day after the elimination of Yorck, the fourteenth, Napoleon headed his tired but triumphant troops back over the road toChampaubert, sending word to Marmont to hold the Prussians in check aslong as possible, to dispute every rod of the way, but not to throwaway his precious men or bring on a general engagement until theEmperor arrived. 

The morning after that Napoleon fell on Blücher, who clearlyoutnumbered the French. But the allies were dismayed and disheartened. The name of the Emperor whom they had defeated and driven across Europewas again full of terror to them. The French were accordingly elated. They would not be denied. Marmont's men, intoxicated with the news ofthe success of the other divisions of the army, just as soon as theywere given the word, which was just as soon as Napoleon could bring uptheir comrades, fell on Blücher like a storm. They came in battlecontact in the village of Vauchamps. The fighting was of the mostdesperate character. The battle was harder than all of the others puttogether. Bavarians, Prussians, and Russians, fighting under the eyeof brave old Blücher himself, who recklessly exposed his person on thefield, were tenacious and courageous to the highest degree, but thetactics and dispositions of Napoleon, the spirit of his men, his ownequally reckless exposure of his person under fire, and a cavalry dashat the allied rear at Janvilliers, finally turned the wavering tide ofbattle. The allies began to retreat, the French followed. 

The French pursued relentlessly, but with splendid skill anddetermination Blücher himself in command of the rearguard fought themoff. Napoleon had foreseen this. He had massed all the cavalry underGrouchy and had sent them on a long round-about march across country toget in Blücher's rear. Just beyond Champaubert, in a dense wood infront of the village of Étoges, the retreating allies found the roadbarred by the cavalry. Grouchy had been provided with sufficientartillery to enable him to hold the retreat in check; but the mud stillprevailed, many horses had been shot and killed, the peasants' horsesdrawing the guns had been unable to keep pace with the necessarilyrapid movements of the cavalry, and the batteries had not come up. Norwas there any supporting infantry. Indeed, the retreat of thePrussians had been so sudden and so rapid that Grouchy's horse had beenhard put to it to intercept them. 

The regiments leading the allied retreat were formed in squares, andwith musketry and cannon animated with the courage of despair, theyforced a passage through the charging, barring masses of the Frenchcavalry, not, however, without losing several of the squares in theprocess. It was their only possible way to safety. As it was, Blücherhimself narrowly escaped capture. 

Napoleon's soldiers had fought five pitched battles in four days. As apreparation, they had marched thirty miles, night and day, overincredible roads. They were now utterly exhausted. They could do nomore. They must have a good rest. Blücher's forces had beenscattered, eliminated, defeated in detail. There was now nothing forthe Field Marshal to do but to retreat and rally his men. The successof the Emperor had been brilliant in the extreme. 

The fighting was not over, however, for thirty miles to the southwardlay the vast army of Schwarzenberg. Napoleon might have pursuedBlücher to the bitter end. Military critics say he should have doneso. To him, however, on the spot, it seemed proper to leave Blücherfor the time being and endeavor to repeat on Schwarzenberg themarvelous tactics of the five days' fight. 

The next morning, the fifteenth, he started back to Nogent whence hehad come. Victor and Oudinot had been fighting hard withSchwarzenberg, but the news of Napoleon's victories had finally causedthe cautious Austrian to stop. He began the recall and concentrationof his own scattered divisions. He, at least, would not be caughtnapping. As usual the enemy learned something, even in defeat. 

Speed was still essential to Napoleon. His men had had twenty-fourhours of rest. His horses were comparatively fresh. The weather hadchanged, the roads were frozen, horribly rough, but still much morepassable than before. Once again the Emperor resorted to thepeasantry. They, too, had been intoxicated with the news of hisvictories, many of which they had witnessed and, in the plunderresulting, had shared. They brought their horses which they had hiddenin ravines and forests when the country was overrun by the enemy. Thistime, instead of attaching them to the guns which their ownteams--recruited from the captures--could draw on the hard roads, Napoleon had them hitched to the big farm wagons. Into the wagons heloaded his infantry. And at the highest speed of the horses the wholeforce made its way to the southward. To other victories--todefeats--to what?

The Emperor began once again to dream of an empire whose boundarieswould be the Vistula instead of the Rhine. 

BOOK II

THE EAGLE'S FLIGHT

CHAPTER XV

THE BRIDGE AT ARCIS

The long journey was at last over. The last Alp had been surmounted, the last pass traversed. Behind them rose the snowy summit of mightyMont Blanc itself. Before them lay their wearying journey's end. Itwas cold even in sunny Southern France on that morning in early spring. Marteau, his uniform worn, frayed, travel-stained, and dusty, hisclose-wrapped precious parcel held to his breast under his shabby greatcoat, his face pale and haggard from hardship and heartbreak, his bodyweak and wasted from long illness and long captivity, stood on the topof a ridge of the hill called Mont Rachais, overlooking the walled townof Grenoble, on the right bank of the Isère. The Fifth-of-the-Line hadbeen stationed there before in one of the infrequent periods of peaceduring the Napoleonic era. He was familiar with the place and he knewexactly where to look for what he expected to see. 

More ragged and tattered, more travel-stained indeed, and with only thesemblance of a uniform left, was the young lad who stood by thesoldier's side. But the boy was in good health and looked strong andsturdy. 

"There, " said the officer. "You see that square bulk of buildingsagainst the wall beyond the Cathedral church-tower and over the Palaisde Justice?"

"I see them, my officer, " answered the other, shading his hand andstaring over the roofs and walls and spires of the compact little town. 

"The barracks will be there unless the regiment has moved. That willbe the end of our journey. "

"The building with the flag, you mean, monsieur?" asked Pierre. 

"That one. "

Alas! the flag was no longer the tricolor but the white flag of ancientroyal France. Marteau heaved a deep sigh as he stared at it with sadeyes and sadder face. 

The unexpected, that is, from the young soldier's point of view, hadhappened. The empire was no more. The allies had triumphed. TheEmperor has been beaten. He had abdicated and gone. He waspractically a prisoner on the little island of Elba, adjacent to thatgreater island of Corsica, where he had been born. The great circle ofhis life had been completed. And all the achievements were to becomprehended between those two little islands in the blueMediterranean--from Corsica to Elba, the phrase ran. Was that all?

Much water had flowed under the bridges of Europe since that mad rideof the infantry in the farm wagons to face Schwarzenberg after theirsmashing and successful attacks upon Blücher, although the interveningtime had been short. A year had scarcely elapsed, but that twelvemonths had been crowded with incident, excitement, and vivid interestalmost unparalleled by any similar period in modern history. TheEmperor had, indeed, fought hard for his throne and against heavy odds. He had fought against indifference, against carelessness, againstnegligence, last of all against treachery. For in the end it wastreachery that had undone him and France. Still, it may be that evenhad Marmont and Mortier remained loyal the end would have been the same. 

The odds were too heavy, in fine. The Emperor did not realize theirpreponderance until it was too late. If he had assembled everysoldier, abandoning everything else but the defense of France, and ifhe had shown with such an army as he could have gathered under thoseconditions the same spirit of generalship which he had exhibited inthat marvelous campaign against Blücher, he might have saved France, his throne, his wife, his little son, his prestige, everything. As itwas, he lost all. But not without fighting. Stubborn, determined, magnificently defiant he had been to the last. 

Marteau had often thrilled to the recollection during the long hours hespent in captivity in Austria, and even in the delirium and fever ofhis long and wasting illness, begot of the foul prison, he hadremembered it. In all the hard fighting and hard marching of thosemournful if splendid days the young man had faithfully and well bornehis important if humble part. There was a great dearth of officers, staff officers as well as the others. He had been very near to theEmperor during those last days. 

He remembered the smashing attack upon the van of the allies atMontereau. He could feel once more the thrill of the army, as thecircumspect Schwarzenberg stopped his advance, retired, concentratedhis columns. He remembered the long, swift march back across thecountry, after further demonstrations to keep Schwarzenberg in hiscautious mood, against the rear of the reorganized and advancing armyof Blücher; the desperate, bloody, fruitless battles of Laon andCraonne, rendered necessary by treachery. 

He could recall again the furious rage of Napoleon, the almost despairthat filled the Emperor's heart, when the news came of the cowardlysurrender of the fort at Soissons by its incapable commandant, whichrendered useless Napoleon's cunning plans, and all the hard marchingand harder fighting of his heroic soldiery. 

He recalled the escape of hard-pressed Blücher again, the return of theFrench to face the overwhelming main army of the allies, slowly butsurely moving toward its goal whenever the withdrawal of the Emperorleft it free to advance, the detachment of Marmont and Mortier todefend Paris, the fierce two-day battle at Arcis-sur-Aube, the dash ofMaurice's and Sebastiani's gallant cavalry upon the whole Austrianarmy, the deadly conflict before the bridge, the picture of the retreatthat bade fair to become a rout. 

He could see again the Emperor, riding down, sword in hand, into themidst of the fugitives crossing the bridge, and, amid a storm ofbullets, ordering and beseeching and imploring the men to rally. Hehad been there on that mad March morning. He would never forget thesight of that figure, the words the Emperor said. It reminded him ofthe dash of the "little corporal" with the flag on the bridge of Lodi, of which old Bullet-Stopper had often told him and the other young menover the camp-fires. 

The Fifth-of-the-Line had immortalized itself that day, adding to thefame it had gained upon a hundred fields, an imperishable crown. Napoleon saw that the battle was lost, that the whole Austrian army hadblundered upon that first French division and that, unless their steadyadvance could be checked, the division itself would be cut to pieces. Men had grown more precious to the Emperor every hour. What would henot have given for those he had spent so recklessly years before? Andhere was a whole division about to be annihilated, to say nothing ofthe cavalry, which had performed prodigies of valor. 

"What regiment is that?" he had asked Marteau, who was riding at hisheels in the midst of the fugitives, and doing his best to second theEmperor's frantic efforts to restore order and bring the men to a stand. 

"The Fifth-of-the-Line, Sire. "

"Your old regiment?"

"The same, Sire. "

"It still stands. "

"And it will stand. "

"Good! Go to it. Tell them that I, the Emperor, devote them to death, for me and for the army. They must hold the Austrians in check andcover the retreat. "

"Farewell, Sire, " the young soldier had said, saluting. 

"What mean you?"

"I shall not come back with the remainder. "

"Adieu, " said the Emperor, acknowledging the salute and understandingall. 

How well Marteau remembered that frightful conflict. TheFifth-of-the-Line had not waited to be attacked. It had gone forward. The Colonel had been shot down. Officer after officer had fallen. Theadvancing line had wavered, hesitated, halted. The Eagle-bearer fell. Eager hands caught the staff. The Austrian fire was concentrated uponit. The color guard was shot to pieces. The Eagle itself had the tipof its right wing shot away. Mortal men could do no more. Theregiment began to give back. 

It was Marteau who sprang to the front, he and young Pierre, who hadattached himself to the officer in a sort of unofficial way. It wasMarteau who seized the Eagle; it was he who rallied the line. The newmen formed up like veterans, the old men settled in their places, cooland ready. They returned the Austrian fire, they checked the Austrianadvance, they stood ready while the troops behind them ran for theirlives. Napoleon, whose eye nothing escaped, saw it all. He evenrecognized Marteau carrying the Eagle. 

The Fifth-of-the-Line made good that defense until the time came forthe retreat. Then it retired slowly, fighting every step of the waydown the low hill to the bridge. The men dropped by scores. TheAustrians, seeing victory in reach, pressed closer. A charge at thelast minute by the cuirassiers of the Emperor Francis' guard almostcompleted the annihilation of the first battalion of the regiment. Thesurvivors sought to form a square, under a withering gun fire, to meetthe uplifted sabers of the heavy cavalry. There were not enough ofthem left. They were ridden down. Two hundred and fifty of the fourhundred who went into that fight lay dead on that field. Of thesurvivors scarce a handful got across the river. Some of the unhurtmen, disdaining quarter and unable to fly, fought until they fell. Thewounded, of whom there were many, were all captured out of hand. 

Marteau, with the Eagle, had stood nearest the enemy. They had swarmedabout him at last. He found himself alone, save for the boy, Pierre. He could see the red-faced, excited, shouting, yelling, passion-animated Austrian soldiers crowding upon him. His sword wasbroken, his pistols empty and gone. He was defenseless. Retreat wascut off. The Eagle staff had been shot away. The flag torn to pieces. Hands were stretched out to seize it. He could not escape with it, yetit must not fall to the enemy. It was the tradition of the servicethat the Eagles were to be preserved at all hazards--not the flag, thatwas a mere perishable adjunct to the Eagle, but the Eagle itself. Theriver ran but a few feet away. Thrusting aside the nearest Austrianwith the stump of his blade, Marteau cleared a path for a second, andinto the swift deep waters he hurled the sacred emblem. 

He, at least, he thought swiftly, had a right to dispose of it thus, for out of the waters of the Elster he had brought it, so into thewaters of the Aube he threw it. 

With cries of rage, for the Eagle was the most precious spoil of war, and the regiment or the officer seizing it was distinguished above allothers, the Austrians would have cut him down where he stood with armscrossed, facing the enemy, but officers who had ridden up had seen theexploit and had interfered. He had been made a prisoner and Pierrewith him. He just had time to whisper to the boy to mark well the spotwhere the Eagle had disappeared in the waters before they marched away. 

While under guard with other prisoners at Salzburg he had heard thestory of the end. How Napoleon, trusting the defense of Paris toMarmont and Mortier, had resolved on the bold move of cutting thecommunications of the allies with his little army, and how the allieshad decided to disregard their rear and march on Paris; how Marmont andMortier had battled for the capital, how the Emperor, hearing of theirstraits, had begun that mad march toward his beloved city; how he hadordered every soldier that could be reached to march in that direction;how he had stopped at a wayside inn one night for a few hours' rest, after a furious day's ride, only to be told that Marmont and Mortierhad gone over to the enemy, that Paris was lost!

The prisoners had learned how the Emperor, not yet despairing, hadstriven to quicken the spirits of his marshals and soldiers for a lasttry; how the marshals and great officers had failed him. They had allheard of those lonely hours at Fontainebleau, of the farewell to theGuard, of the kiss on the Eagle, which he surrendered to General Petit, of the abdication, of the exile to Elba, of the restoration of KingLouis. 

It had made Marteau ill, frightfully so, and but for the tender nursingand loving care of young Pierre he had died. The lad had been devotionitself, but Marteau missed more than anything else the companionship, the sage advice, the bon camaraderie of old Bullet-Stopper. He hadnever seen him or heard from him after that day at the bridge-head atArcis. Where was he now?

Oh, yes, those days and their tidings would never be forgot. They allcame back to the young officer, as with his humble but devotedcompanion he stood there on the heights above Grenoble looking at thewhite flag. 

CHAPTER XVI

THE GATE IN THE WALL

The two travelers were stopped by the guard at the main gate in thewalls that encircled the town. Marteau had drawn his old cloak closelyabout him, so that it was not evident that he was in uniform. Pierre'snondescript garments were so tattered and torn that neither would theybetray the pair. The sentry was clad in the old uniform of theFifth-of-the-Line, except that he sported a white cockade in hishead-gear and every device that referred to the Empire had beencarefully eliminated. Still he was the same soldier, and Marteaurecognized him at once as one of the veterans of the regiment. Therecognition was not mutual. Captivity, illness, privation had wroughtmany changes in the officer's face. The man looked at him curiouslyand wonderingly, however, as he challenged him. 

"My friend, " asked the officer, "of what regiment are you, I pray?"

"The Fifth-of-the----" began the man instinctively, apparently, andthen he stopped. "The regiment Dauphiné, " he answered, his faceclouding. 

"And what battalion?"

"The first, sir. "

"Are there other troops in garrison?"

"Another regiment of infantry, that was the Seventh. I don't know itsnew name. And some artillery to man the walls. "

"Good. I should like---- Who is in command of the town?"

"There is a new one since yesterday. He has just come down from Paris, the King sent----"

At that instant the gruff voice of the subaltern in command of thedetachment at the gate rang out. 

"Turn out the guard for the Commanding Officer. "

"Back, monsieur, " cried the soldier, falling into line with hiscomrades, who came running from the guard-house and ranged themselvesin order. 

Marteau stepped back into the shadow of the gate, just as a carriageand four, carrying three people and attended by a brilliant cavalryescort, dashed through the narrow street of the town and passed out ofthe gate, the soldiers of the guard standing at attention in line andpresenting arms as the carriage and its following went on into thecountry by the highroad. The horses had been moving at a fast trot. Marteau had time for but one glance as the vehicle passed. One glancewas enough. When the guard had been dismissed and the soldier on postturned again to look at the officer, he was astonished at the changethat had come over him. Marteau, pale as death, leaned against thewall, his hand on his heart. 

"What's the matter?" cried the soldier, staring at him curiously. 

"Has monsieur seen a ghost?" asked young Pierre, running toward him ingreat anxiety. 

"Who--who was that?" asked Marteau, who had received a dreadful shockapparently. 

"The governor of the town. "

"Yes, yes, I know, but his name?"

"I was about to tell you. The Marquis de---- Upon my word, I haveforgot it. "

"Was it by any chance the Marquis d'Aumenier?"

"That's it, " said the soldier. 

"And the man with him in the red coat?"

The soldier spat into the dust to show his contempt. 

"An English milord. "

"And the lady?"

"I don't know. They say, the wife of that Englishman. Things havecome to a pretty pass, " growled the soldier, turning away, "when ourgirls marry these English beef-eaters, and---- It was not so in theday of the Em----"

He stopped suddenly, wondering fearfully whether his garrulousness hadbetrayed him into an imprudence with this stranger. 

"No, " said Marteau reassuringly. "Will you let me pass, comrade? I aman old soldier of--the Empire. " He had no hesitation in avowinghimself under the circumstances. "See, " he threw open his cloak, disclosing his uniform. 

"Why, that is the uniform of this regiment!" exclaimed the amazedsoldier. 

"Yes. "

"And you are----"

"I was Captain Marteau when with the regiment, " returned the officer. 

"I thought I knew you, sir. Yes, I remember it all now. You were cutdown at the bridge at Arcis. "

"Yes. "

"I, too, was there. I was one of the few who managed to get awayalive. But I did not run, monsieur. I did not go back until theorder. "

"I believe it. "

"And this boy?"

"He is a young comrade, a faithful companion of my own. "

"And you are come back----"

"To rejoin the regiment. I have been months in an Austrian prison, andafterward, ill. "

"Pass freely, monsieur. You rallied us with the Eagle. We saw it gointo the river. The Emperor himself commended us, those who were left. He said we should have another Eagle, but alas, we never got it. "

"Have patience, " said Marteau. "What is lost may be found. "

He touched the small, well-wrapped parcel, which even in his agitationhe had not allowed to fall to the ground. The soldier looked at himwonderingly. 

"You mean----"

"Never mind. Be silent. Will you call your officer?"

"Corporal of the guard, " shouted the sentry, and, when that officialappeared, the lieutenant in command of the gate was soon summonedthrough the usual military channels. 

"Monsieur, " said Marteau, walking up to him, "do you not know me?"

"By heaven!" cried the officer, after a long stare, "is it--it isCaptain Marteau!"

"The same. "

"We thought you dead. Your name is honored in the regiment. We knewhow you rallied the line; how you took the Eagle; how you threw it intothe river rather than permit it to be taken. We thought you werekilled. "

"My life was spared, " was the solemn answer. 

"But why did you not rejoin the regiment?"

"I was in prison at Salzburg, and for some reason was overlooked, perhaps because it was thought I was dead, and then for some months Iwas helpless, ill of a horrible fever. It was only two months ago thatI was set free, with this lad here, who stood beside me before thebridge at Arcis. We learned through unofficial sources that theregiment was here. Having nowhere else to go, I came back, and----"

"They will be glad to see you, " said the officer. "The regiment lostheavily. It was almost cut to pieces at Arcis. "

"I know. "

"But many officers and men of the old regiment have come back, likeyou, from Russia, from Prussia and from Austria, where they had beenheld prisoners. They will be glad to welcome you at the barracksyonder. You are permitted to pass. But stop. I must do my duty. What have you in that parcel?"

Marteau looked about him, moved a step away from the sentries and thecorporal and sergeant of the guard, and whispered a word into the earof the officer. He threw up his hands in astonishment. 

"Mon Dieu!" he exclaimed. "Is it possible?"

"The same, " said Marteau, "but say nothing about it until I have seenour comrades. "

"Of course not. "

"And that carriage and four that just passed?"

"The governor of the town, the Marquis d'Aumenier, the new commander ofthe regiment. "

"I see; and our old Colonel?"

"Dead. The Major commanding the first battalion has been in commanduntil they sent this old noble down here yesterday. "

"And the lady?"

"His niece. "

"You have met her?"

"Not I. They care nothing for such as we. He treats us as if we wereof the scum of the earth, dogs. Oh, if only----"

"Hush, " said Marteau. "It is dangerous. "

"I know. And he brought with him an Englishman, one of the Duke ofWellington's officers. "

"Is he married to the young lady?"

"Not yet, I believe, but betrothed. "

"And his name?"

"He has a barbarous name. I can't pronounce it. He had us outinspecting us yesterday--he and that Englishman. Bah! To think of theFifth-of-the-Line being inspected by such a young red-coated cockerel. "

The veteran spat in the dust as the soldier had done and swore roundly. He hated the red-coated English. He had fought them before, and hewould like nothing better than to fight them again. 

"Patience, " said Marteau. 

"Do you wish to go to headquarters and report yourself? You were aMajor on the Emperor's staff?"

"A Lieutenant-Colonel, by personal appointment that day at Arcis. "

"Well, you will be lucky enough if they make you a subaltern. Look atme. I am older than you. I am a veteran of Italy and I am only asub-lieutenant, I, who was Captain when I was captured. "

"Patience, my friend, " said Marteau again. 

"Here, " said the officer, hailing a cabriolet, which suddenly turnedthe corner. 

"I have no money, " said Marteau quickly. 

"The King pays ill enough, " answered the officer, "but what I have isever at the service of a good comrade. "

He assisted Marteau into the cabriolet, allowed Pierre to climb upbeside him, paid the driver his fare, and bade him take the two to theheadquarters in the barracks. 

CHAPTER XVII

A VETERAN OF THE ARMY OF ITALY

It was noon when Marteau presented himself before the house in whichthe Major of the first battalion, an old veteran named Lestoype, wasquartered. 

"Who shall I say wants to see him?" asked the orderly before the door. 

"A soldier of the Empire, " was the bold answer, and it proved an opensesame to the astonished orderly. 

Lestoype was writing at a table, but he looked up when Marteau came in. He stared at him a moment and then rose to his feet. 

"I report myself ready for duty, Major, " said the young officer, saluting. 

"Good God, is it Marteau!" exclaimed the Major. 

"The same. "

"We thought you dead. "

Rapidly the young officer explained the situation. 

"You see, " he said in closing, "I survived the Eagle. "

"Ah, if we could only have got it back!" exclaimed the Major. 

"It is back. "

"What do you mean?"

"It is here. "

"I don't understand. "

"Look, " cried the officer, nervously tearing away the wrappings andholding up his precious burden. 

The Major came to attention, his heels clicked together, his hand wentup. He stared at the Eagle. 

"_Vive l'Empereur_, " he said. 

"_Vive l'Empereur_, " answered the other, but both of them spoke inwhispers, for there was no Emperor, and a mention of the name wastreason to the King. 

"It is the same?" asked the Major, taking the precious emblem in hishand and pressing it to his heart. 

"The very same. "

"But how?"

"The boy here and I marked the spot where it fell. We took bearings, as a sailor would say; we took them independently, and when we had achance to compare them we found that we agreed exactly. When I wasreleased from prison and discharged from the hospital as aconvalescent, we went back to Arcis, to the bridge, to the river side. The boy here is an expert swimmer. The river was low. He dove intothe icy waters again and again until he found it. We were mostcircumspect in our movements. No one observed us. I wrapped it up, concealed it carefully, learned that the regiment was here, and Isurrender it into your hands. "

"It is a shame, " began Lestoype gloomily at last, laying the Eaglegently down on his desk. 

"What is a shame?"

"The order. "

"What order?"

"The Eagles of all the regiments and ships are to be sent to Paris tobe destroyed. "

"Impossible!"

"Nevertheless, it is true. They have taken them wherever they couldlay hands on them. It has almost caused a revolt. "

"And are you going to send this Eagle to Paris?" asked Marteauthreateningly. "This Eagle for which I fought, this Eagle which Irescued from the Elster and the Aube, for which hundreds of brave menhave died, this Eagle which has been in the forefront of every battlein which the regiment took part since the Emperor gave it into ourkeeping before Ulm?"

"What can I do?"

"I will throw it into the Isère first. I will destroy it myself beforethat happens, " cried Marteau, snatching it up and pressing it to hisheart. "I have taken no oaths. I am still the Emperor's man. "

"Not so loud, " said Lestoype warningly. "The men of the regiment maynot all be true. You may be overheard. "

"You and all the others have taken the oath of allegiance to the King?"

"What else was there to do? Soldiering is my trade. They offered uscommissions; the Empire was dead; the Emperor banished. It was aliving, at any rate. "

"But I am free, I am not bound. "

"You must, you will take the oath, " urged Lestoype. 

"How if he should come back?"

"He will not come back. "

"Will he not? It is whispered everywhere, " said Marteau. "I have notpassed an old soldier who did not voice the hope. It's in the air. 'When the violets bloom, ' they say. Even the peasants whisper it. Theimperial purple flower---- He will return. "

"God grant it may be so. "

"And we shall be ready for him, we who have not taken the oath, andwho----"

"I am afraid I shall be a forsworn man, in that case, " said theveteran, smiling grimly. "Should the Emperor again set foot in Francehis presence would absolve us from all vows. I only serve under theKing's colors because no others fly in France. "

"Be it so. "

"And you will be with us again in the regiment?"

"How can I?"

"Be advised, " said the old soldier, laying his hand upon the arm of theyounger, "we must keep together. We must keep our regimentalorganizations intact. The army must be ready for him. Take the oathas well nigh every soldier high and low in France has done, and----"

"Well, I shall see. Meanwhile, the Eagle there. You won't give it up?"

"Give it up!" laughed Lestoype. "I feel just as you do about it, butwe must conceal it. The Seventh, Labédoyère's regiment, in garrisonhere, concealed their Eagle. At least it has not been found. Therewas a terrible to do about it. "

"Do you vouch for the officer at the main gate? I had to tell him inorder to be passed. I know him but slightly. "

"The Sub-Lieutenant Drehon. "

"He is safe?"

"Beyond doubt. Meanwhile, you require----"

"Everything, " said Marteau simply. 

"The King's paymasters are a long time in coming. We are left to makeshift as best we can. But I am not yet penniless, " returned the oldMajor. He threw a purse on the table. "You will be my guest. Withthese you can get proper clothes and uniform. "

"And the boy?"

"I will turn him over to the men. They will be glad to welcome him. He should have the Legion of Honor for rescuing the Eagle. But stop. "

"What is it?"

"He won't talk?"

"I have tested that lad. He will be as close-mouthed as the grave. You understand, Pierre, you are not to say a word about the Eagle untilI give you leave, " said Marteau to his young comrade. "About our otheradventures you can tell. "

"I understand. Monsieur knows that I can be silent. "

"I know. Good-by. I shall see you to-morrow. Now, " began Marteau, asthe orderly who had been summoned had taken Pierre away withinstructions to see that he was clothed and fed, "let me ask somequestions. Who was in command of the regiment?"

"I was until yesterday. "

"And yesterday?"

"The King sent down an old officer to take the command, aLieutenant-Colonel. "

"And the Colonel?"

"Monsieur d'Artois. "

"So that----"

"The Lieutenant-Colonel commands the regiment, which is now known asthe Regiment Dauphiné, the Comte d'Artois' own, " said the Major, withfine scorn. "What a name to take the place of the Fifth-of-the-Line, "he added. 

"And Monsieur d'Aumenier?"

"Oh, he seems harmless enough. He is a trained soldier, too, ofroyalist days before the Empire. He even told me he had been at theschool at Brienne when the Emperor was a student there. "

"And who is with him?"

"His niece, the Countess Laure d'Aumenier, engaged to that youngEnglish officer. "

"And what of him?"

"Well enough for an Englishman, I suppose, " was the careless answer. "We were paraded yesterday and the young Englishman inspected us, thelady looking on. Actually my gorge rose, as he handled our muskets, criticized our drill. I heard some of the old mustaches of theregiment say they would like to put a bayonet through him, and, to befrank, I should like it myself. I fought against these English inSpain. There's no love lost between us. "

"Did he disparage the regiment?"

"Oh, no, quite the contrary. He was more than complimentary, but Ihate them. His father is here, too. "

"I see. When is the marriage to take place?"

"How do I know? I was surprised when the old Marquis volunteered anyinformation to the likes of me. "

"I must see the Marquis at once; with your permission, of course. "

"You have it, " returned the other, smiling. "You are not yetreinstated in the regiment, and, so far as I am concerned, you are freeto go and come as you will. "

"He is not here now, I believe?"

"No. He turned over the command to me temporarily. He is driving outinto the country, going out to the gap to reconnoiter for himself, Itake it, but he will be back before nightfall, and meanwhile you havemuch to do. We want to get you well fed, to get some good French wineinto you, to put the blood into your veins and color into your cheeks, to give you a bath, to get you clothing--everything, " said the generousold veteran. 

CHAPTER XVIII

ALMOST A GENTLEMAN

"Will you tell the Lieutenant-Colonel, the Marquis d'Aumenier, that anofficer returned from the wars desires to see him?" said Marteau to thefootman who answered the door at the Governor's palace. 

"So many wandering officers want to see His Excellency, " said theservant superciliously, "that I have instructions to require furtherenlightenment before I admit any to his presence. "

"Say to your master, " replied the other, his face flushing at theinsolence of the servant, "that one from the village of Aumenier cravesan audience on matters of great importance. "

"And even that will scarcely be sufficient, " began the lackey. 

"Enough!" thundered Marteau. "Carry my message to him instantly, " hesaid fiercely, "or I shall throw you aside and carry it myself. "

The servant looked at him a moment, and not relishing what he saw, turned on his heel and disappeared. 

"His Excellency will see you, sir, " he said, in a manner considerablymore respectful when he returned a few moments later. "This way, sir. His Excellency is in the drawing-room, having finished his dinner. What name shall I announce?" he asked, his hand on the door. 

"Announce no one, " was the curt reply. "Open the door. I will makemyself known. "

The lackey threw open the door. Marteau entered the room and closedthe door behind him. The drawing-room of the Governor's palace wasbrilliantly illuminated. The Governor was receiving the officers ofthe garrison and the principal inhabitants of the city that night, butit was yet early in the evening, and none of them had arrived. Theyoung officer had purposely planned his visit at that hour, in orderthat he might have a few moments' conversation with the Marquis beforethe invited guests arrived. 

There were five people gathered about the fireplace, all engrossed inpleasant conversation apparently. It was the second of March, and theweather made the fire blazing on the hearth very welcome. Four of thefive people in the room were men; the fifth person was a woman. It wasshe whose attention was first aroused by the sound of the closing ofthe door. She faced about, her glance fell upon the newcomer, a cupwhich she held in her hand fell to the floor, the precious chinasplintering into a thousand fragments, her face turned as white as thelace of her low evening gown. 

"Marteau!" she exclaimed in almost an agonized whisper. 

"Mademoiselle, " answered the soldier, bowing profoundly. 

He was beautifully dressed in the nearest approach to the latestfashion that the best tailor in Grenoble could offer--thanks to theMajor's purse--and, although his most becoming attire was not auniform, his every movement betrayed the soldier, as his every lookbespoke the man. 

"And who have we here?" asked the oldest man of the group, the Marquisd'Aumenier himself, the attention of all being attracted to thenewcomer by the crash of the broken china and the low exclamation ofthe young woman which none had made out clearly. 

"By gad!" bellowed out with tremendous voice a stout old man, whose redface and heavy body contrasted surprisingly with the pale face, thelean, thin figure of the old Marquis, "I am damned if it isn't theyoung Frenchman that held the château with us. Lad, " he cried, stepping forward and stretching out his hand, "I am glad to see youalive. I asked after you, as soon as I came back to France, but theytold me you were dead. "

"On the contrary, as you see, sir, I am very much alive, and at SirGervaise Yeovil's service as always, " said Marteau, meeting theEnglishman's hand with his own, touched by the other's hearty greeting, whose genuineness no one could doubt. "And this gentleman?" he wenton, turning to a young replica of the older man, who had stepped to hisfather's side. 

"Is my son, Captain Frank Yeovil, of King George's Fifty-second LightInfantry. By gad, I am glad to have him make your acquaintance. He isgoing to marry the Marquis' niece here--your old friend--when they cansettle on a day. You had thoughts in that direction yourself, Iremember, " he went on, in his bluff way, "but I suppose you have gotbravely over them by now, " he laughed. 

"I have resigned myself to the inevitable, monsieur, " answered Marteauwith a calmness that he did not feel. 

He did not dare to look at the Countess Laure as he spoke. He couldnot have commanded himself if he had done so. His lips were compressedand his face was paler than before. The girl saw it. She had watchedhim, fascinated. The Englishman, young, frank, sunny-haired, gallant, stepped up to him, shook him by his unwilling hand. 

"I am glad to know you, " he said. "I have heard how you saved mybetrothed's life and honor, and held the château. I have longed tomeet you, to thank you. "

"And I you, " said Marteau. "You English are frank. I shall belikewise, " he added. "It was not thus I wanted to meet you, monsieur, not in a drawing-room, in this peaceful dress, but--on the field. "

"I understand, " said the Englishman, sobered a little by the other'sseriousness. "And if the war had continued perhaps we might havesettled the--er"--his eyes sought those of his fiancée, but she was notlooking at him--"our differences, " he added, "in the old knightly way, but now----"

"Now it is impossible, " assented Marteau, "since my Emperor and I areboth defeated. "

"Monsieur, " broke in the high, rather sharp voice of the old Marquis, "that is a title which is no longer current in France. As loyalsubjects of, the King the word is banished--like the man. "

"I am but new to France, Monsieur le Marquis, and have not yet learnedto avoid the ancient habit. "

"And yet you are a Frenchman, " commented the Marquis dryly. "You saidyou came from Aumenier. I did not catch your name, sir?"

"Marteau, at your service. "

"One of the loyal Marteaux?"

"The last one, sir. "

"And pray why are you new to France?"

"I have but two months since been released from an Austrian prison andan Austrian hospital. "

"I made inquiry, " said the Countess suddenly, the tones of her voicebespeaking her deep agitation, "I caused the records to be searched. They said you were dead, that you had been killed at the bridge ofArcis with the rest of your regiment. "

"I was unfortunate enough to survive my comrades as you see, mademoiselle, " said Marteau. 

"And I thank God for that, " said the Countess Laure. "I have neverforgot what you did for me, and----"

"Nor has the memory of your interposition which twice saved my lifeescaped from my mind for a single instant, mademoiselle. "

"Yes, it was very fine, no doubt, on the part of both of you, " saidCaptain Yeovil, a little impatiently, because he did not quite see thecause of all this perturbation on the part of his betrothed; "but youare quits now, and for my part----"

"What I did for mademoiselle is nothing, monsieur. I shall always bein her debt, " replied the Frenchman. 

"Monsieur St. Laurent, " said the Marquis, turning to the other occupantof the room, "my new adjutant, Monsieur Marteau, " he added inexplanation, "was there not a Marteau borne on the rolls of theregiment? I think I saw the name when I looked yesterday, and itattracted me because I knew it. "

"Yes, your Excellency, " said St. Laurent, "he was a Captain when he wasdetached. "

"You were on service elsewhere, _Monsieur mon Capitaine_?" asked theMarquis. 

"I was a Lieutenant-Colonel, your Excellency. "

"And where and when?"

"On the day at Arcis. Made so by"--he threw up his head--"by him whocannot be named. "

"Ah! Quite so, " said the Marquis, helping himself to a pinch of snufffrom a jeweled box, quite after the fashion of the old régime. He shutthe box and tapped it gently. "There is, I believe, a vacancy in theregiment, a Captaincy. My gracious King, whom God and the saintspreserve, leaves the appointment to me. It is at your service. Iregret that I can offer you no higher rank. I shall be glad to haveyou in my command, " he went on. "It is meet and right that you shouldbe there. I and my house have been well served for generations by yourhouse. "

"I regret that I cannot accept your offer. "

"Why not?" asked the Marquis haughtily. "It is not to every wanderingofficer that I would have made it. "

"I should have to swear allegiance to your King, monsieur, and thatI----"

"Enough, " said the Marquis imperiously. "The offer is withdrawn. Youmay go, sir. "

"I have a duty to discharge before I avail myself of your courteouspermission, " said the young man firmly. 

"My uncle, " said the girl, "you cannot dismiss Monsieur Jean Marteau inthat cavalier fashion. It is due to him that I am here. "

"No, curse me, Marquis, " burst out Sir Gervaise, wagging his big headat the tall, French noble, "you don't know how much you owe to thatyoung man. Why, even I would not have been here but for him. "

"I am deeply sensible to the obligations under which he has laid me, both through the Comtesse Laure, and through you, old friend. I havejust endeavored to discharge them. If there be any other way----Monsieur is recently from prison--perhaps the state of his finances--ifhe would permit me----" continued the Marquis, who was not withoutgenerous impulses, it seemed. 

"Sir, " interrupted Marteau, "I thank you, but I came here to confer, not to receive, benefits. "

"To confer, monsieur?"

"We Marteaux have been accustomed to render service, as the Marquiswill recollect, " he said proudly. 

He drew forth a soiled, worn packet of papers. Because they hadrepresented nothing of value to his captors they had not been taken. They had never left his person except during his long period ofillness, when they had been preserved by a faithful official of thehospital and returned to him afterward. 

"Allow me to return these to the Marquis, " he said, tendering them. 

"And what are these?" asked the old man. 

"The title deeds to the Aumenier estates, monsieur. "

"The grant is waste paper, " said the Marquis contemptuously. 

"Not so, " was the quick answer. "I have learned that the acts of thelate--of--those which were duly and properly registered beforethe--present king ascended the throne are valid. The estates arelegally mine. You reject them. I----" he hesitated, he stepped overto the young woman--"I return them to you, mademoiselle. Her dowry, monsieur, " he added, facing the Englishman, as he laid the packet downon the table by the side of the Countess Laure. 

"Well, that's handsome of you, " said the latter heartily. 

"I cannot take them, " ejaculated the young woman, just a touch ofcontempt for her obtuse English lover in her voice. "I---- They arelegally his. We shall have no need----"

"Nonsense, " burst out the young English officer. "They are rightfullyyours. They were taken from you by an usurper who----"

"Monsieur!" cried Marteau sharply. 

"Well, sir?"

"He who cannot be named by order of the king is not to be slandered byorder of----"

"Whose order?"

"Mine, " said Marteau. 

"Indeed, " answered the Englishman, his face flushing as he laid hishand on his sword--he was wearing his uniform. 

"Steady, steady, " cried the old Baronet, interposing between the two. "The lad's right. If we can't name Bonaparte, it is only fair that weshouldn't abuse him. And the girl's right, too. You have no need ofany such dowry. Thank God I have got acres and pounds of my own forthe two of you and all that may come after. "

"It strikes me, gentlemen, " said the Marquis coolly, "that the disposalof the affair is mine. Marteau is right and I was wrong. Perhaps hehas some claim to the estate. But, however that may be, he does wellto surrender it to its ancient overlord. I accept it as my due. Ishall see that he does not suffer for his generosity. "

"And does monsieur think that he could compensate me if he should giveme the whole of France for the loss of----"

"Good God!" said the keen witted, keen eyed old Marquis, seeingMarteau's glance toward the young woman. "Are you still presumingto----"

"As man looks toward the sun that gives him life, " said the youngFrenchman, "so I look toward mademoiselle. But have no fear, monsieur, " he went on to the English dragoon, "you have won her heart. I envy you but----"

"Marteau!" protested the Countess, the anguish in her soul speaking inher voice again. 

How different the appearance of this slender, pale, delicate youngFrenchman from the coarser-grained English soldier to whom she hadplighted her troth, but to whom she had not given her heart. There wasno doubt in her mind as to where her affections pointed. Some of thepride of race, of high birth and ancient lineage, had been blown awayin the dust of the revolution. She had played too long with the plainpeople on the ancient estate. She had been left too much to herself. She had seen Marteau in splendid and heroic roles. She saw him so now. She had been his companion and associate in her youth. But of all thisnone knew, and she was fain not to admit it even to herself. 

"Have you anything more to communicate, Marteau, or to surrender?"asked the Marquis coldly. 

To do him justice, any service Marteau might render him was quite inaccord with the old noble's idea of what was proper and with theancient feudal custom by which the one family had served the other forso long. 

"I have yet something else to give up. "

"Another estate?"

"A title. "

"Ah, and what title, pray, and what interest have I in it?" asked theMarquis sarcastically. 

"I have here, " said the young Frenchman, drawing forth another legaldocument, "a patent of nobility duly signed and attested. It wasdelivered to me by special courier the day after the battle ofMontereau. "

"And you were created what, sir?"

"Count d'Aumenier, at your service, monsieur. "

"Is this an insult?" exclaimed the Marquis, his pale face reddening. 

"Sir, " said the young man proudly, "it was given me by a man who hasmade more men noble, and established them, than all the kings of Francebefore him. No power on earth could better make me Count or Prince orKing, even. "

"Sir! Sir!" protested the Marquis furiously. 

"I value this gift but I do not need it now. I surrender it into yourhands. You may destroy it. I shall formally and before a notaryrenounce it. It shall be as if it had not been. "

The Marquis took the paper, unfolded it deliberately amid a breathlesssilence and glanced rapidly over it. 

"Even so, " he admitted. 

He looked up at the gallant, magnanimous young Frenchman with moreinterest and more care than before; he noticed how pale and haggard andweak he appeared. He appreciated it for the first time. A littlechange came over the hard, stern face of the old noble. He, too, hadsuffered; he, too, had been hungry and weak and weary; he, too, hadeaten his heart out longing for what seemed impossible. After all, they had been friends and more than friends, these ancient houses, thehigh born and the peasant born, for many generations. 

"St. Laurent, " he said sharply, "we have been remiss. Monsieur is ill, a chair for him. Laure, a glass of wine. "

Indeed, the constraint that Marteau had put upon himself had drawnheavily upon his scanty reserve of nervous force. St. Laurent did notlike the task, but there was that in the Marquis's voice which warnedhim not to hesitate. He offered a chair, into which the young mansank. From a decanter on the table the girl, her hand trembling, poured out a glass of wine. Swiftly she approached him, she bent overhim, moved by a sudden impulse, she sank on her knees by his side andtendered him the glass. 

"On your knees, Laure!" protested the young Englishman. "It is notmeet that----"

"In gratitude to a man who has served me well and who has set us all anoble example of renunciation by his surrender of land and title herein this very room. "

"Rise, mademoiselle, " said Marteau, taking the glass from her stilltrembling hand. "The honor is too great for me. I cannot remainseated unless----"

"Very pretty, " said the Marquis coolly as young Captain Yeovil helpedhis reluctant young betrothed to her feet. "Your health, monsieur, " hecontinued, taking up his own glass. "By all the saints, sir, " he addedas he drained his glass, "you have acted quite like a gentleman. "

"'Quite, ' my uncle?" quoted the young woman with deep emphasis on theword. 

"Well, what more could I say to a Marteau?"

"What more indeed, " said the young officer, smiling in proud disdain. 

"Damme if I wouldn't have left the 'quite' out, " muttered the elderYeovil. 

"I have your leave to withdraw now, monsieur?" asked the young officer. "You dismissed me a moment since. "

"Now I ask you to stay. By the cross of St. Louis, " said the oldMarquis, fingering his order, "I am proud of you, young man. Take thecommission. I should like them to see what sort of men we breed inChampagne and----"

"I feel I shall be unequal to it. I must withdraw. "

"Where are you staying?" asked the young woman eagerly. 

"With Major Lestoype, an old comrade. "

"And I shall see you once more?"

"I cannot hope to see mademoiselle again. Our ways lie apart. "

"Enough, " said the Countess imperiously. "It rests with me and I willsee you again. Meanwhile, au revoir. "

She offered her hand to the young Frenchman. He seized it eagerly. 

"Monsieur allows the privilege to an old and faithful servitor?" hesaid to the young Englishman, who stood jealously looking on, and then, not waiting for an answer, he bent low and pressed his lips upon it. 

Did that hand tremble in his own? Was there an upward movement as ifto press it against his lips? He could not tell. He did not dare tospeculate. The Countess closed her eyes and when she opened them againhe was gone. 

CHAPTER XIX

THE GREAT HONOR ROLL

At midnight, had there been anyone abroad in the garrison to observethem, a number of men, heavily cloaked, might have been seen driftingthrough the torrential rain that was falling, toward the quartersoccupied by Major Lestoype. They were expected, evidently, for theywere admitted without hesitation by the carefully selected old soldierswho kept the door. The usual servants had been dismissed to theirquarters, and their places were taken by certain tried and trustedveterans of the regiment. 

In the quarters of Major Lestoype was a spacious and lofty hall. Thither the new arrivals were conducted. There was an air of greatsecrecy about their movements. The occasion was evidently felt to be asolemn one by all. Major Lestoype was not yet present. As they threwoff their cloaks it was seen that they were soldiers of the Fifthregiment of the line, to continue to give it the familiar title. Eachone was arrayed in his best parade uniform. They were of every rankbelow that of Major, and included among them were severalnon-commissioned officers and a few private soldiers of reputation andstanding. The men were of all ages too, although the non-commissionedofficers and privates were, in every instance, veterans. These laststood in a little group by themselves, although there was no attempt onthe part of the officers to emphasize any difference in rank on such anoccasion. 

There were, perhaps, a hundred men in the company when all had beenassembled. They had been chosen with the utmost care. The listincluded all the officers, except certain new officers who had beenassigned to the regiment from other regiments of whom Major Lestoypeand the veteran captains were not sure. Certain other young officers, sons or connections of influential royalists now in high favor withKing Louis XVIII, who had also been assigned to the regiment were ofcourse excluded. 

Those who were there were known men, all tried and true. MajorLestoype himself had been a private when the Fifth-of-the-Line hadfollowed the Emperor, then but General Bonaparte, into Italy on thatfirst and most marvelous of the campaigns of the great Captain. He hadseen service in Egypt and had been present with the First Consul at thedecisive battle at Marengo. Into his hand as a non-commissionedofficer thereafter the newly made Emperor had delivered the Eagle. Naturally, he experienced toward it almost the feeling of a father forhis child. 

Every other man there was associated in some way with that imperialemblem, their regimental standard. As has been said, it was not theflag for which they cared; flags were of perishable silk or cloth; theycould be and often were destroyed in battle. They could be replaced. Some regiments stripped the colors from the poles before they went intoaction. It was the Eagle that was precious and to be defended. It wasthe Eagle that was in their hearts almost eternal. 

It was to receive their Eagle again that these officers and men hadbeen summoned. They did not know that definitely yet, but some whisperof it had been in the air. They were on the _qui vive_ for thedevelopments of the evening and full of restless excitement. When thegreat door was at last thrown open and the Senior Captain caught sightof the tall, lean figure of his commander, he instantly came toattention and said sharply:

"Gentlemen, attention. The Major Commanding. "

To be sure, Lestoype no longer occupied that position. His place hadbeen taken by the Marquis d'Aumenier, but in the mind of the SeniorCaptain and of the others the old Major still was supreme and he saidthe words quite naturally. 

The talking ceased at once, the well-drilled officers and men stood atattention, their hands raised in salute. Major Lestoype in fulluniform, his breast bright with all his medals and orders--and it wasobservable that everybody else had adorned himself with everydecoration he possessed, even those that had become illegal andvalueless, forbidden even, after the fall of the Empire--entered theroom, acknowledged the salutes and bowed ceremoniously to the officersassembled. He was followed by a tall slender young man on thisoccasion dressed again in the uniform of the regiment. 

And yet there was a difference between this stranger and the otherofficers. While from the uniforms of the other officers had beencarefully removed everything which in the least degree suggested theEmpire, no such deletion had taken place with the equipment of theyoung man. On the contrary, the buttons, the brasses, the braids, thetricolored cockade; in short, everything was just as it was before therestoration. 

The eyes of the soldiers gleamed as they immediately recognized thedifference. They looked upon him with a certain envy, because he soboldly sported that of which they were deprived. At first they did notrecognize the man who had the hardihood thus to display the insignia ofNapoleon in the kingdom of Louis. It was not until he had advancedfurther in the room and stood in the full light of the chandelier andMajor Lestoype turned toward him that one of the veterans recognizedhim. 

"By the living God, " cried a deep voice, "Marteau!"

Instantly the name was caught up. 

"Marteau! Marteau! Marteau!" came from all parts of the room. 

"Gentlemen, comrades, " said Lestoype, raising his hand, "I beseech you, silence. Walls have ears. Every man here is tried and true. We aretrusting our lives and honor to one another, but what may be outside Iknow not. We must do nothing to attract any attention. Therefore, restrain yourselves, I beg. Captain Marteau, for it is indeed he, gentlemen, has brought back to the regiment----"

He paused a moment, with an instinctive feeling for the dramatic. Perhaps the little scene had been prearranged. Marteau had carried hishand behind his back. As Lestoype stopped he brought his hand to thefront of his body. There in the light of the candles, from the greatchandelier above, the officers and soldiers saw the thing which theyvenerated next to God. For a moment they stared, almost aghast at thegilded emblem in Marteau's hand. Eyes sparkled in some faces, brimmedwith tears in others, cheeks paled on one hand and flushed upon theother; breaths came quicker, a low murmur ran through the room--almostterrible in its meaning. 

"The Eagle of the regiment, messieurs, " said old Lestoype solemnly, breaking the silence. 

"_Vive l'Empereur!_" suddenly exclaimed a veteran port-aigle, orstandard bearer, in a low but tense voice, and the mighty battle-cryswept softly through the room from man to man, in low notes, in brokenwhispers like a great wavering sigh from a multitude of throbbinghearts. 

"Is it the same?" asked one as the sound died away. 

"The very same, " answered Lestoype. "It was given into my hands yearsago. I had someone write down the Emperor's words then. I committedthem to memory. I can hear him speak now. "

"And what were those words we ask you, we, who are young in theregiment, " broke out a youth who was yet a veteran of the Germancampaign of 1813. 

"The Emperor, turning to Marshal Berthier, took the Eagle from him, heheld it up thus in his own hands. "

Lestoype turned to Marteau and suited the gesture to the word. Heseized the Eagle and advanced a step and those who watched him sokeenly noticed how he trembled. It was to him as if the Emperor werethere again. Some mystic aura of his mighty presence seemed tooverhang the uplifted Eagle. 

"Gentlemen, we were paraded on the Champ de Mars with thousands ofothers. The Eagles had been marched along the line with the ruffles ofdrums and blare of bugles. It was raining like tonight, there was nosun, but never saw I a brighter day. The Emperor said:

"_'Soldiers of the Fifth regiment of Infantry of the Line, I entrust toyou the Eagle of France. It is to serve to you ever as your rallyingpoint. You swear to me never to abandon it but with life? You swearnever to suffer an affront to it for the honor of France? You swearever to prefer death to dishonor for it? You swear?'_"

As the words of the old officer died away, moved by a common impulse, the hands of the men before him went to their swords. With sweepinggestures they dragged them out of their sheaths, up into the air theyheaved the shining blades. 

"We swear, " they said solemnly, instinctively repeating the ceremony ofthe past in which some of them had participated and of which all hadheard. 

As their words died away the gruff voices of the non-commissionedofficers and privates standing at salute repeated the acclaim, inaccordance with the custom. 

"It was so when the Eagle was given, " said old Lestoype, deeplygratified by the spontaneous tribute. "Gentlemen and comrades, beseated, if you please. I have called you here for the honor of theregiment to consult as to what is to be done. "

"_Mon Commandant_, " said an old veteran, stepping forward as thosepresent sought seats where they could, "I was port-aigle of theregiment before Dresden. May I not take in my hand again the'cou-cou'?"

That was the cant name which the soldiers gave to the standard, a termof affection, of familiarity, of comradeship which in no way indicatedany lack of respect or any diminution of determination to die for it ifnecessary. 

"To you I gladly commit it until we have determined what is to be donewith it, " said Lestoype, handing it to the old man. 

It seemed a perfectly natural and spontaneous act to the officerspresent when the port-aigle pressed his lips reverently upon the numberplate below the feet of the Eagle and then, disdaining to sit down, stood at attention, holding it before him. 

"Will you not tell us, Mon Commandant, " said another of the youngerofficers, "something more about the Eagle before we discuss itsdisposition?"

"I was a Sub-Lieutenant at Austerlitz, " said Lestoype, only too anxiousto comply. "We were under the command of Marshal Soult, club-footedSoult we called him, upon the heights of Pratzen. In the advance wewere overwhelmed. The port-aigle was killed. I was close at hand. Iseized the staff but a bullet got me in the shoulder, here. My arm hasbeen stiff ever since. I fell--a Russian--we were that closelyintermingled and fighting hand to hand--seized the staff. I lapsedinto unconsciousness. Captain Grenier--you were Sergeant-Majorthen--finish the story. "

"Willingly, Major Lestoype. I cut down that Russian, although woundedmyself, and tore the staff from him as he fell. But I couldn't holdit. I fell with it at your feet. Our men had been driven back. Therewas nobody beside us but the regimental dog. "

"Mustache, " said one of the other officers, and all eyes turned towardthe stuffed skin of a mongrel poodle dog mounted in a glass case hungagainst the wall. Hands went up in salute. Some of the soldierslaughed grimly. 

"The brave Mustache, " continued Grenier. "He leaped over my prostratebody. I was conscious still. I saw it all. I would have given worldsfor strength, but I was helpless. Still Mustache was enough. He lovedthe port-aigle. He seemed to know the Eagle was in danger. He snappedat the hands of the Russian. The man drew back and cut at him with hissword. Perhaps I should have received that blow. You see where theforepaw of the dog was sliced off? But he had the spirit of a Frenchsoldier, that brave dog, and he kept them off until the regimentrallied and came back and drove away the Russians. Marshal Lannes hada collar made for Mustache. You can see it there around his neck, young gentlemen, " continued the old Captain. "On one side theinscription reads: _'He lost a leg in the battle of Austerlitz but hesaved the Eagle of his regiment. ' On the other side: 'Mustache, a dogof France, who will be everywhere respected and honored as a bravesoldier. '_"

"What became of the dog?" asked another. 

"He was carried on the roll of the regiment until he was killed by anEnglish cannon ball at Badajos. We took the skin and it is there, butwe buried the brave heart and the rest of him on the rampart where hefell. The soldiers put up a stone above him. 'Here lies the braveMustache, ' it read. I think the English left it standing. "

"That Eagle has been in every capital of Europe, messieurs, " remarkedanother veteran. "Rome, Berlin, Vienna, Madrid, Moscow. "

"It charged with the Guard at Eylau, " said Drehon. "You remember, comrades, some of you at least, how we went forward in support of thebattalions of the Guard under General Dorsenne?"

"I remember, I remember, " came from one and another. 

"_Hein_, " said a veteran, "he was a bold soldier. "

"And a handsome one. They called him '_Le Beau Dorsenne_, '" continuedDrehon. "The Guard advanced at arms-aport and so did we. Our drumsand theirs were rolling _La Grenadière_. One of his staff said to himas we drew near the ranks of the Russians, 'Hadn't we better beginfiring, my General?' 'No, ' said the proud Dorsenne haughtily. 'Grenadiers keep your arms aport, ' he continued as he saw somewavering. 'The old guard only fights at the point of the bayonet. '"

"And what happened?"

"The Russians seemed to be paralyzed. They stood and watched us. Whenthey finally did fire, in their excitement, they overshot us. The nextinstant we burst upon them. Our bayonets came down to a charge. Theycouldn't stand before us, comrades. Corbleu! the white snow was redwith blood that day! A squadron of cavalry, the Emperor's escort, struck them in the rear at the same time and between us we cut them topieces. They were heavy, those big Russians, to toss on the bayonet, but we did it. "

"Was that when the Emperor called us 'The Terrible Fifth'?" queried avoice. 

"That was the time. "

"Tell us more, " came from the excited assemblage. 

"They gave us the gold wreath, there in Paris, after Jena and Eylau andFriedland. They loved the Eagle then, those Parisians, " said AdjutantSuraif, taking up the tale. "The women fell on our necks and kissed uswhen we came marching back. They threw us flowers. They opened theirarms to us. They gave us wine. Ah, that was fine. "

"At Ratisbon, " said the old Major, "I commanded the regiment at thebridge-head. We fought the Austrians off all day, giving the Emperortime to make his dispositions. We captured four hundred prisoners, anAustrian battle flag, and three other flags. The firing was terrible, our cou-cou lost some leaves of his wreath there. We were alone thereand at nightfall our ammunition was all gone. The Austrians were therein thousands. They charged and overwhelmed us. "

"But the Eagle?"

"Ah, we had taken precaution, " laughed the old Major. "We wrapped the'cou-cou' up in the Austrian standard and in the battle flags andburied it in a cellar, so when they captured us they got nothing butthe men and, of course, we didn't matter. "

"And how did you get it back?" came an excited question. 

"The Emperor took the town the day after. They had kept us prisonersthere and so we were free. I shall never forget the Emperor on thatday. He rode down to us where we had formed in ranks. He looked overus. His glance pierced every man's heart. 'Soldiers of the Fifth, ' hesaid, 'when I heard of the attack on the bridge at Ratisbon I said tomy staff, "I am tranquil, the Terrible Fifth is there, " and now I seeyou alive, many of you unharmed, and without your Eagle. What have youdone with it?' he thundered out his face black as midnight. 'Sire, 'said I, stepping forward and upon my word, comrades, it took morecourage to face the Emperor in that mood than to charge an Austrianbattery, 'we have not lost our Eagle. We have buried it and havingbeen but this instant released from captivity by your Majesty, we awaityour permission to dig it up. ' 'Go and resurrect it, ' he said sharply. 'I will wait. '"

"And did he?"

"Most assuredly. We found it safe and brought it back with theAustrian standard. The Emperor saluted it and commended us. 'I knew Icould trust you, ' he said, smiling. "

"He loved his Eagles, " said another voice. 

"That did he, " answered a veteran. "I have even seen him get out ofhis traveling-carriage and stand at attention as an Eagle at the headof a regiment marched by. "

"I carried the Eagle in Marshal Macdonald's column at Wagram, messieurs, " said the old Eagle-bearer, stepping forward. "It was therethe bullet struck the wing tip, here. " He laid his hand tenderly uponit. "Mon Dieu, that was a march! Twenty thousand men in solid columnsgoing across the plain at steady step, with drums beating, theAustrians pouring shot and shell into us. You could hear the bulletscrash through the breasts of the division like glass. My arm was numbfrom the bullet which struck the Eagle, but I changed hands and carriedit forward. I can see the big Marshal still. The Emperor was lookingon. It was terrible. It didn't seem that mortal man could make it, but we kept on, still, silent, until we came in touch with theAustrians and then we cut them in two. It was magnificent. "

"I was with Marshal Mortier when we were caught in the pass ofDurrenstein, " broke out one of the privates, an old Eagle-guard. "Wefought all day and all night in that trap against awful odds, waiting, hoping, until toward morning we heard the thunder of Dupont's guns. Wewere so close together that we seized the throats of the Russians, andthey ours. We begged the Marshal to use a boat we had found to crossover the Danube and escape. 'No, ' he said, 'certainly not! I will notdesert my brave comrades! I will save them or die with them. ' Ah, hewas a brave man that day. "

"And that such a man could betray the Emperor!" exclaimed another. 

"I never could understand it, " said one of the soldiers. 

"That was the day, " said a third, "when our drums were shot to piecesand we had to beat the long roll on the iron cooking cans. "

"You remember it well, comrade. "

"I was a drummer there. I remember there were but two thousand of thesix thousand in the division that answered roll call that day. "

"I carried that Eagle into Moscow, " said a scarred, one-armed veteran. "I would have carried it back, but I was wounded at Malojaroslavets andwould have died but for you, my friend. "

"And I carried it across the Niemen after that retreat was over, "returned the other, acknowledging the generous tribute of his oldfellow soldier. 

"Sacre-bleu! How cold it was. Not many of you can remember that marchbecause so few survived it. The battalions in Spain can thank God theyescaped it, " said another. 

"It was hot enough there, and those English gave us plenty offighting, " added one of the veterans who had fought against Wellington. 

"Aye, that they did, I'll warrant, " continued the veteran of Russia. "The Emperor who marched on foot with the rest of us. Before crossingthe Beresina--I shudder to think of the thousands drowned then. Idream about it sometimes at night--we were ordered to break up theEagles and throw them into the river. "

"And did you?"

"Not I. That is the only order I disobeyed. I carried it with me, wrapped in my own clothes. One night my fingers froze to it. See!"He lifted his maimed hands. "But I held on. I crossed the Niemanbefore Marshal Ney. He threw away his musket, but I kept the Eagle. He was the last man, I was just before him, " said the man proudly. 

"It was Marteau who saved it at Leipsic, " said Lestoype, "and againafter he had hurled it into the Aube at Arcis he found it and broughtit back. And it is here. "

Tears glistened in the eyes of the veterans and the youth alike. Hearts beat more rapidly, breaths came quicker, as these brave andfragmentary reminiscences of the part the Eagle had played in pastglories were recited. 

"What shall we do with it now?" asked Lestoype at last. 

CHAPTER XX

WHEN THE VIOLETS BLOOM AGAIN

Now there was not a man in the room who had not heard of the order toreturn the Eagles to Paris, where they were to be broken up and melteddown, not a man in the army for that matter. Nor was there a man whohad not heard some account of the resistance of other regiments to theorder, which had been nevertheless enforced wherever possible, althoughin cases not a few Eagles had been hidden or disappeared mysteriouslyand had not been given up. There was scarcely a man in theregiment--unless some royalist officer or new recruit--who had not beenglad that their own Eagle had been lost honorably in battle and buried, as they believed, in the river. It was more fitting that it shouldmeet that end than be turned back to Paris to be broken up, melted downand cast into metal for ignoble use--and any other use would be ignoblein the estimation of the regiment. 

"I would rather throw it into the Isère, " growled old Grenier, "thansend it back. "

"And I, and I, and I, " came from different voices. 

"Perhaps, " said Lestoype, speaking slowly and with deep meaning, for herealized that his words were in the highest degree treasonable, "if wecan preserve it by some means we may see it once again at the head ofthe regiment when----" he stopped. The silence was positively ghastly. He looked about him. The men thrilled to his glance. "----'when theviolets bloom again, '" he said, using the mystic poetic phrase whichhad become so widely current. 

"God speed the day!" burst out some deep voiced veteran. 

"Amen, amen!"

"_Vive l'Empereur_!"

"Let us save the Eagle!"

The whole room was in tumult of nervous cries. 

"_Vive le brave Marteau_!" finally said Drehon when he could get ahearing. "He has given us back our honor, our life. "

The emotions of the moment were too much. Reckless of what mighthappen, the room instantly rang with loud acclaim in response to thisappeal. The soldiers sprang to their feet, moved by irresistibleemotion. Swords were drawn again. 

The officers and men clustered around Lestoype and Marteau. The Eaglewas lifted high, blades were upheaved threateningly again. Dangerswere forgotten. Intoxicated with enthusiasm they gave free course totheir emotions. 

"_Vive l'Empereur_!" resounded through the hall, not whispered butshouted, not shouted but roared!

In their mad frenzy of excitement they did not, any of them, noticethat the door into the hall had been thrown open and that a youngofficer of the regiment stood there, his face pale with amazement, hismouth open, staring. He could not take in the whole purport of thescene but he saw the Eagle, he heard the cries, the word "_Vive_" cameto him out of the tumult, coupled with the name of Marteau and theEmperor. 

"Gentlemen!" he finally shouted, raising his voice to its highest pitchand as the sound penetrated to the tumultuous mass the noise died awayalmost as suddenly as it had arisen. 

Men faced about and stared toward the entrance. There stood young St. Laurent, one of the royalist officers, newly appointed to the regiment, who had been made aide to the Governor and commander. 

"Major Lestoype, " said the youth with great firmness, having recoveredhis presence of mind and realizing instantly the full purport andmenace of the situation, "an order from the Governor requests yourpresence at once. I was sent to deliver it. The soldiers at the doorstrove vainly to stop me but I forced my way past them. I am anunwelcome guest, I perceive, being a loyal servant of the King, but Iam here. What is the meaning of this gathering, the worship of thisdiscarded emblem, these treasonable cries?"

"Am I, a veteran of the army of Italy, to be catechised and questionedby a boy?" growled Lestoype in mingled rage and astonishment. 

"You forget yourself, monsieur. I regret to fail in any military dutyor in respect to my seniors, but in this I represent the Marquisd'Aumenier, the Governor, aye, even the King, my master. Whence camethis Eagle?"

There was a dead silence. 

"I brought it, monsieur, to my old comrades, to my old regiment, "coolly said Marteau, stepping forward. 

"Traitor!" exclaimed St. Laurent, confronting him boldly. 

"Not so, for I have taken no oath to King Louis. "

"Ah, you still wear the insignia of the Corsican, I see, " continued theyoung aide, looking more closely. "But how about these gentlemen?"

Again the question was met by silence. 

"Messieurs, " said St. Laurent, "you are old soldiers of the formerEmperor. I see. I understand. You love him as I and mine the King. It is as much as my life is worth, as much as my honor, to condone it. Yet I would not be a tale-bearer, but this cannot pass unless----"

"Shall I cut him down where he stands, _Mon Commandant_?" growled theold port-aigle, presenting his weapon. 

"And add murder to treason!" exclaimed St. Laurent, his face flushing alittle but not giving back an inch before the threatening approach ofthe veteran. 

There was good stuff in him, evidently, and even those who foresawterrible consequences to themselves in his unexpected presence couldnot but admire him. They were even proud that he was a Frenchman, eventhough he served the King they hated. 

"By no means, " said Lestoype, motioning the color-bearer back. "Youshall go as freely as you came. "

"And if you do as I suggest I shall go and forget all I have seen, messieurs. "

"Impossible!"

"Upon my honor I shall do it but on one condition. "

"Ah! and that is?"

"That you give me the Eagle. "

"Give you the Eagle!" exclaimed old Captain Grenier. 

"The Eagle for which our brave comrades died, " said Drehon. 

"The Eagle which has been carried in triumph in every capital inEurope!" added Suraif. 

The whole room was filled with cries again. 

"Never! Never!"

The whole mass surged forward, including Marteau. 

"Was it to give it up to any servant of King Louis that I brought itback?" the latter shouted threateningly. 

"Gentlemen, " said the young aide so soon as he could make himself heardin the tumult, "the choice is yours, not mine. I am a soldier of theKing, aide-de-camp to the Governor of this place, an officer under theMarquis d'Aumenier. You have your ideas of duty, I have mine. I havealready stretched my conscience to the limit in offering to be silentabout this under any conditions. I am doing wrong in concealing it butI do not wish to doom so many brave men to disgrace, to death. You, monsieur"--he pointed toward Marteau--"refused a commission in thisregiment. You wear the insignia of Bonaparte. You have no place here. Withdraw. Your arrival has disturbed the orderly course of events. These gentlemen were doing their duty contentedly----"

"No, by God, never, " roared out a veteran. "Contentedly! We willnever be content until----"

"Until what, monsieur?"

"Until the violets bloom again, " came the answer, accompanied by aburst of sardonic laughter. 

"Your interest in the flowers of spring does not concern me, gentlemen, " returned the young aide, affecting not to understand, andperhaps he did not. "If you will give me the Eagle----"

"And what will you do with it if we should do so?"

"I will be silent as to this. "

"And how will you explain your possession of it?"

"I will say that I got it from Monsieur Marteau, who has gone. "

"And what will you do with it?"

"That shall be as the Marquis d'Aumenier directs. "

"And he?"

"I think he will undoubtedly obey the orders of the Minister of War andsend it to Paris to be broken up. "

"Gentlemen, " said Major Lestoype, endeavoring to quiet and repress thegrowls of antagonism that arose on every hand, "you hear theproposition of Monsieur St. Laurent. Seeing his duty as he does, I amforced to admit, " continued the veteran with great magnanimity, "thatit does credit to his heart. What shall we do?"

"Purchase our freedom, purchase our rank, purchase our lives by givingup our Eagle!" said old Captain Grenier. "Never!"

"I vote NO to that proposition, " said Drehon. 

"And I, and I, and I, " acclaimed the soldiers. 

"You hear, Monsieur St. Laurent?" said the Major. "These gentlemenhave signified their will unmistakably. "

"I hear, " said the young aide. "Major Lestoype, forgive me if I havefailed in respect or soldierly deference to my superior officer, but I, too, have my duty to perform. I warn you all that when I pass fromthis room I shall go directly to the Marquis d'Aumenier and report whatI have seen. "

"When he passes, " cried some of the soldiers of lower rank ominously, emphasizing the adverb and rudely thrusting themselves between St. Laurent and the door. 

"Pardon me, gentlemen, " said the young aide quite coolly. "It seemsthat I spoke unadvisedly in one particular. "

"You retract?" said a voice. 

"Never. I should have said 'if I pass. '"

Swords were still out, hands were clenched, arms were raised. 

"Say the word and he dies where he stands, " cried one. 

"Gentlemen, " said Lestoype sternly, "back, all of you. Free passagefor Monsieur St. Laurent. Back, I say. Let him go unharmed, as hecame. "

"My orders were to request your presence before the Governor of thetown immediately, " said the aide. 

"I attend him at once, young gentleman, " returned the old soldier, seizing his cloak and covering his head with his chapeau. "Gentlemen, "he added, turning to the rest, "I leave the Eagle in your hands. Before he departs let me say that Monsieur St. Laurent has bornehimself like a brave man, a gallant officer, and a true gentleman. Monsieur, you will not take amiss this heartfelt tribute from so old asoldier as I. "

"I thank you, sir, and you, gentlemen, " said the young aide, surveyingthe men, their sudden temper abated, now looking at him withadmiration, some of them with hands raised in salute. "The duty youhave imposed upon me by your choice is the most painful I shall ever becalled upon to perform. "

"This way, Monsieur St. Laurent, " said old Lestoype, stepping throughthe door with his head high, beckoning the young aide to follow him. 

The door had scarcely closed behind the two when the wild confusionbroke out again. 

"What shall be done now?" cried Captain Grenier, the senior officerpresent, as soon as he could be heard. 

"Messieurs, " said Marteau, striving to gain the attention of all, "letme speak a moment. I have a plan. Be silent, I beg of you. "

"We will hear Marteau. "

"What have you to suggest?"

"Speak!"

"Be quick. "

"This. I will take the Eagle, I, who brought it. "

"You will throw it into the Isère?"

"No. I know this town like a book. The regiment was once stationedhere for a few months. I had time on my hands. I explored many of theancient buildings. I will---- But ask me nothing. Trust the Eagle tome. I have periled my life for it as have you all. Trust it to me. It shall come to no dishonor in my hands. Say to the Governor that Icame here, that I brought the Eagle, that I was asked to surrender it, that I refused, that I took it away, that you know not where Iconcealed it, nor whither I am gone. Let Monsieur St. Laurent make hisreport. You can simply tell the truth. Nothing will be done. "

"It is well thought on, " said Captain Grenier. 

"The danger is to you, " said another. 

"What of that? I have looked danger in the face often since I havebeen in the army, like all the rest of you. "

"I like not to shift the responsibility upon this young man, " said theold port-aigle dubiously. "He is saving our lives at the risk of hisown if they should find him--which is likely. "

"Messieurs, " said Marteau quickly, "I am not preserving your lives foryourselves. "

"Why, then?" asked an officer. 

"That you may be ready, " said the young man, throwing his cloak abouthis shoulders, seizing the Eagle with his hands, "when the violetsbloom again. "

As they stared at him he saluted, turned on his heel, opened the doorand went out. 

CHAPTER XXI

LIKE A THIEF IN THE NIGHT

The reception was over. The last guest had departed. The house hadbeen closed. Sir Gervaise Yeovil and his son and the Countess Laurehad bidden the old Marquis good night and retired to their severalapartments. There were wakeful hours ahead for the Governor, whorepaired to his cabinet and got to work. The tidings which had beenbrought him by the young Baron St. Laurent were sufficiently grave andperturbing to render sleep impossible, even if he had nothing to do. In great astonishment the Marquis had questioned Major Lestoype closelyand from him had received a frank and accurate version of the wholeaffair. The Major would have died rather than betray a comrade, but inthis instance the betrayal had already been effected and there wasnothing whatever to be gained, from Marteau's point of view or fromanybody's point of view, by an attempt at concealment. 

The old Marquis had acted with dazzling promptitude. His personalescort had consisted of a troop of loyalist cavalry from the King'shousehold guard and it had not yet returned to Paris. He could dependabsolutely upon these men. They had none of them been soldiers of thegrand armies of the Emperor. They had been recruited in loyal andlong-suffering Vendée. He placed them under the command of St. Laurent, of whose conduct he highly approved, being in ignorance of theoffer of secrecy made by that young soldier, Lestoype being too fine aman to attempt to better his case by bringing the Lieutenant intodisgrace. This detachment had searched the Major's quartersthoroughly. They had found them, of course, deserted. 

Captain Grenier, being forthwith summoned to headquarters, had statedtruthfully that Marteau had taken the Eagle and gone and thereafter theassembly had dispersed. He declared upon his word of honor that he hadno knowledge where he had gone or what he had done with the Eagle. TheMarquis had a complete description of Marteau drawn up and sent toevery gate in the walled town. The guard was ordered to permit nobodyand nothing to pass without the severest scrutiny and the closestsearch or inspection. The Governor made preparations for publicproclamation on the morrow, offering a large reward for the fugitive'sapprehension dead or alive, and also an additional reward forinformation that would lead to the discovery of the missing Eagle. 

Promising himself to deal with the matter even more thoroughly in themorning, he had at last dismissed his subordinates and retired. IfMarteau was within the city walls--and it was impossible to see how hecould have got out of the town without a pass after twelve o'clock atnight--he would find him if he had to search every house in the town. The spirit of the old man was high and aflame. To be so braved, tohave his command the scene of such an outbreak of disloyalty andtreason to the King was more than he could bear with equanimity. 

There was another regiment in the town that had formerly been known asthe Seventh-of-the-Line, commanded by Colonel Labédoyère, and therewere detachments of artillery. The Eagle of the Seventh had never beensent to the War Office in Paris. It, too, had disappeared. But thathad been months before the Marquis' time, and he had no responsibilityfor that. Colonel Labédoyère was more than suspected of lukewarmness, but as he was a young man of great influence, high social standing andmuch personal popularity no steps had as yet been taken against him. The Marquis determined to have it out with him also at the firstconvenient season, and unless he could be assured of his absolutedevotion to King Louis, he would report to the Minister of War thenecessity of the Colonel's removal. 

The old man was fully alive to the Napoleonic sentiment among thesoldiers, a sentiment which arose from a variety of motives. In thefirst place, war was the trade of most of the soldiers. They lived onit, thrived by it, delighted in it. The permanence of the monarchymeant peace. There would be little chance for advancement and none atall for plunder. Self-interest predisposed every old soldier tocontinue an imperialist. 

In the second place, the finances of France were naturally in a mostdisordered condition. The pay of officers and men was greatly inarrears; promises made had not been kept, and there was much heart-feltdissatisfaction on that account. The pay of a soldier is in no sensean adequate compensation for the risks he runs, the perils to which hevoluntarily and willingly subjects himself, but it is a universalexperience that although his pay is in no degree commensurate, yet thesoldier whose pay is withheld instantly becomes insubordinate andmutinous, however high or patriotic the motives back of his enlistment. 

Again the officers had, most of them, been degraded in rank. Many ofthem had been retired on pittances which were not paid. Those who werelucky enough to be retained in active service were superseded bysuperannuated, often incompetent old officers of the old royal armybefore the revolution, or by young scions of nobility with no knowledgeor fitness to command veterans, to whom the gross-bodied, uninspiring, gouty old King did not appeal. Again, the regimental names andassociations had been changed and the old territorial or royal andprincely designations had been reëstablished; the Napoleonic victorieshad been erased from the battle-flags; the Eagles had been taken away. 

The plain people of France were more or less apathetic toward Emperoror King. France had been drained of its best for so long that itcraved rest and peace and time to recuperate above everything else. Ithad been sated with glory and was alike indifferent to victory ordefeat. But the army was a seething mass of discontent. It hadnothing to gain by the continuance of present conditions and everythingto lose. It was a body of soldiers-of-fortune held in controltemporarily by circumstances but ready to break the leash and respondinstantly to the call of the greatest soldier-of-fortune of all. 

And while all this is true it must also be admitted that there weremany officers and men like Marteau who were profoundly humiliated anddistressed over conditions in France and who, passionately wrapped upin and devoted to the Emperor, had spurned commissions and dignitiesand preferments. If they were obscure men they remained in Franceunnoticed; if they were great men they had expatriated themselves andsought seclusion and safety in other countries, oftentimes at greatpersonal sacrifice of property, ease and comfort. 

The King, who was by no means lacking in shrewdness and wit, and hischief advisers in Paris, did not fail to realize something of this, butkeen-sighted men like the Marquis d'Aumenier, away from the person ofthe monarch, realized it much more fully, although even he had not theleast idea of the wide extent and depth of this feeling. But the oldman knew instinctively that he must control things in Grenoble at leastwith an iron hand and that no temporizing was possible. The return ofMarteau, who was a man of parts and power, he admitted--he recalled howwell he had borne himself before the little group in thedrawing-room!--followed by the midnight gathering, the joy of theveterans, their worship almost of the Eagle, enlightened him. He wouldput down sedition with an iron hand, he swore to himself. The King hadcommitted this important place to him. It was, in a certain sense, afrontier city if the impossible happened. Well, the King should findthat he had not reposed trust in the Marquis for nothing. 

So the old man thought as he lay sleepless during the night. He wasnot the only one who lay sleepless during the night. Laure d'Aumeniersought rest and oblivion in vain. She had been more moved by Marteau'sconduct and bearing and presence in the old Château d'Aumenier, a yearago, than she had been willing to admit until she thought him dead. The Marteaux had always been a good-looking, self-respecting people. Madame Marteau, his mother, had been an unusual woman who had, it wassaid, married beneath her when she became the wife of old Jean Marteau, although she never in her long married life thought of it in that way. The present Jean Marteau was as handsome and distinguished looking aman as there was in France. The delicacy and refinement of his bearingand appearance did not connote weakness either, as she could testify. 

The young woman owed her life and honor to the young soldier. But longbefore that chance meeting they had been companions in childhood, intimate companions, too. The boy had been her servitor, but he hadbeen more. He had been her protector and friend. In her memory shecould recall incident after incident when he had helped her, shieldedher. Never once had he failed to show anything but devotion absoluteand unbounded toward her. 

The proposition of marriage he had made in the old hall, which she hadlaughed to scorn, had by no means escaped her memory. She had dweltupon it, she had even speculated upon the possibility of an acceptanceof his proposal. Why not? She knew no man more gentle at heart, moregallant in soul, more noble in spirit than he. That, too, she hadturned over and over in her mind. 

She admired Frank Yeovil. He was a likable man, frank by nature aswell as name and brave, sunny in disposition and ardently devoted toher. When the betrothal had been made at her uncle's urgent insistencethat she accept Captain Yeovil's suit, it had been a great match forher, for the d'Aumeniers were impoverished exiles, while the Yeovilswere a rich family and of a line almost as long as her own. It hadbeen easy enough to plight her troth to the young Englishman at first, but since she had seen Marteau, she realized that it would not be easyto keep that engagement. Fortunately, Captain Yeovil had been onservice in Spain and the South of France with the Duke of Wellington'sarmy, and only a few weeks before had he joined her uncle and herselfin Paris on leave of absence. He had pressed her to name the day butshe had temporized and avoided the issue; not for any definite reasonbut because as the time drew near she became less and less willing tobe the Englishman's wife. 

Marteau had been reported killed at Arcis. Perhaps that report haddone more to enlighten her to the true state of her affections thananything else. Her pride of birth, her rank and station would neverhave permitted her, it may be, to dwell upon a living Marteau as apossible husband, but since he was dead there could be no harm indreams of that kind; and in her grief she had indulged herself in themto the full. It had been a shock to her, of course, but not so great ashock as it would have been if an engagement had subsisted between thetwo, or she had permitted herself to think that she could ever lookfavorably on the proposition he had made to her. Nevertheless, it hadbeen a great sorrow. There were some alleviations to the situation, however. Since it had become impossible, since she believed Marteaudead, she could indulge her grief and her mind could dwell upon thoseattractions which had influenced her so powerfully. 

The period was one of intense anxiety and excitement. The old Marquishad lived much alone. He was not versed in woman's ways. Heragitation and grief passed unnoticed. By degrees she got control ofherself. Since it was not to be Marteau it might as well be youngYeovil. The whole episode with which the French officer was concernedshe viewed from a point of detachment as a romantic dream. His arrivalhad rudely shattered that dream and awakened her to the reality of thesituation. She loved him. 

For Laure d'Aumenier to marry Marteau was impossible. The Marquiswould never consent. He was her legal guardian, the head of her race. Marriage without his consent was unthinkable. Loving Marteau she wouldfain not marry Yeovil; yet her troth being plighted in the most publicmanner and with her consent, the Marquis would force her to keep herword. She knew exactly the pressure that would be brought to bear uponher. Although she had lost some of the pride of her ancestors, shecould see the situation from their point of view. There was a deadlockbefore her and there appeared to be no way of breaking it. 

It was a wild night outside. The rain beat upon the casement windowsof the old castle. The tempest without seemed fit accompaniment to thetempest within, thought the woman. 

A long time she lay thinking, planning, hoping, praying; alikeunavailingly. Toward morning, utterly exhausted by the violence of heremotions, the scene she had gone through--and it had been a torture tostand and receive the townspeople after the departure of Marteau--shefell at last into a troubled sleep. 

She was awakened by a slight sound, as of a light footstep. Sheenjoyed the faculty of awakening with full command of her senses atonce. She parted the curtains of the bed. With her eyes wide open, holding her breath, she listened. She heard soft movements. There wassomeone in the room!

Laure d'Aumenier, as has been said, had been trained to self-reliance. She could wield a sword expertly and was an accurate shot with afirearm. She could ride with any woman in England. She had, in full, the intrepidity and courage of her ancestors. Her prowess, so strangeand so unusual in that day in a woman, had been a subject ofdisapproval on the part of her uncle, but Sir Gervaise Yeovil and hisson had viewed it with delight. Frank Yeovil had brought her fromSpain a beautiful Toledo blade and a pair of Spanish dueling pistols, light, easily handled and of deadly accuracy. The blade hung from apeg in the wall by the head of her bed. The pistols lay in a case onthe table upon which her lighted bedroom candle stood. They werecharged and ready for use. 

Throwing back the cover without a sound, presently she stepped throughthe hangings and out on the floor. A loose wrapper lay at the foot ofthe bed, which was a tall old four-poster, heavily curtained. Whoeverwas in the room was on the other side of the bed, near the wall. Thecurtains hung between. 

She was as light as a bird in her movements. She drew the bed-gownnearer, thrust her feet into heelless slippers, placed convenient forher morning rising by her maid, opened the box of pistols, lifted oneof them, examining it on the instant to see that it was ready for use, slipped on the wrapper, stepped toward the foot of the bed and waited. 

The beat of the rain, the shriek of the wind, the roar of the thunderfilled the room with sound, but the woman had good ears and they werewell trained. She could hear someone softly moving. Sometimes, inlulls in the storm, she thought she could detect heavy breathing. 

The natural impulse of the ordinary woman would have been to scream orif not that, having gained the floor, to rush to the door, or if notthat to pull the bell cord and summon help. But Laure d'Aumenier wasnot an ordinary woman. She knew that any sound would bring aid andrescue at once. There would be plenty of time to scream, to pull thebell or to do whatever was necessary later. And something, she couldnot tell what, something she could not recognize, impelled her to takethe course she did; to wait, armed. 

But the wait began to tell on her sensibilities. The sound of somebodyor something moving mysteriously to-and-fro behind the curtains overagainst the wall at the other end of the room began to work on hernerves. It takes an iron steadiness, a passive capacity for endurancewhich is quite different from woman's more or less emotional courage, to wait under circumstances like that. 

Just when she had reached the limit of her endurance and was persuadedthat she could stand no more, her attention was attracted by a slightclick as of a lock or catch, a movement as of something heavy, as of adrawer or door, and then the footsteps turned and came toward thewindow. The moment of action had arrived and with it came the returnof her wavering courage. 

To reach the window the intruder must pass by the foot of the bed whereshe stood. Now the light was on the table at the head of the bed andthe table was far enough from the bed to shine past her into the room. The moving figure suddenly came into view. It was a man, shrouded in aheavy cloak. He did not glance toward the bed. His eyes were fixed onthe window. His astonishment, therefore, was overwhelming when hesuddenly found himself looking into the barrel of a pistol andconfronted by a woman. 

CHAPTER XXII

IN THE COUNTESS LAURE'S BED-CHAMBER

That astonishment was so great when the man recognized the woman thathe threw up his hands and stepped backward. As he did so his soddencloak, which he had gathered closely around him, opened and fell. Thenext instant his hand tore his hat from his head and he stood revealedin the full light of the candle. 

"Marteau!" exclaimed the woman in a surprise and dismay equal to thatof the man she confronted. 

Her arm that held the pistol dropped weakly to her side. With theother hand she drew the peignoir about her, a vivid crimson wave rushedover her whole body. To surprise a man, a thief, in her room at night, was one thing; to confront the man she loved in such a guise wasanother. Her heart rose in her throat. For a moment she thought shewould have fainted. 

"You! You!" she choked out brokenly. "Mon Dieu!"

"Mademoiselle, " began the man desperately, his confusion and dismaygrowing with every flying moment, "I----"

"What do you here, " she went on impetuously, finding voice, "in mybedroom at night? I thought you----"

"For God's sake hear me. I came to----" and then he stopped lamely andin agonized embarrassment. 

"For what did you come?" she insisted. 

"Mademoiselle, " he said, throwing his head up, "I cannot tell you. Butwhen I was stationed here before this was the bedroom of theCommanding-Officer. I supposed it was so still. I had not thefaintest idea that you--that it was----"

"And what would you do in the bedroom of the Commanding-Officer?" askedthe woman, forgetting for the moment the strangeness of the situationin her anxiety to solve the problem. 

"And that, I repeat, I cannot tell. "

"Not even to me, who----" she stopped in turn. 

"Yes, yes, go on, " urged the young man, stepping nearer to her. "Noteven to you who----"

"Who espoused your cause in the hall this very night, who befriendedyou, " she went on rather lamely and inadequately having checked herselfin time. 

"Oh, " said the young officer in great disappointment, "that?"

"Yes. "

"You see, the Governor----"

"Did you wish to kill him?"

"Mademoiselle!" he protested. "I swear to you that I would not harmhim for the world but I----"

"Are you in need? He offered you money. I have a few resources. "

"For God's sake, mademoiselle, " interposed the officer desperately, butshe went resolutely on. 

"Whatever I have is yours. See----" she stripped rings from herfingers and proffered them--"take them. "

"Mademoiselle, " said the young man sadly, "you wrong me. "

"Well, if it was not for murder or for gain, for what cause did youtake so frightful a risk?"

"Is there no other motive, mademoiselle, that makes men risk theirlives than revenge or greed?"

"What do you mean?"

"Love. "

"But you said you did not know this was my room!"

The words came from her impetuously and before she thought she realizedwhen it was too late. 

"Ah, mademoiselle, love of woman is a great passion. I know it onlytoo well, too sadly. But it is not the only love. "

"Have you another in your heart?" asked the Countess with a sinking inher own. 

"Love of honor. "

"I don't understand. "

"And yet I know that you are the very soul of honor yourself. "

"I thank you, but----"

"Mademoiselle, " said the young man, coming to a sudden resolution, "appearances are frightfully against me. That I should be here, inyour room, at this hour of the night, under the circumstances, condemnsme utterly in your opinion, especially as I have offered no adequateexplanation. I am about to throw myself on your mercy, to trust toyour honor. "

"You shall not trust in vain, monsieur. "

"I know that. I trusted to your honor in the Château d'Aumenier andyou did not fail me then. "

"Nor will I now. "

"Will you give me your word not to reveal what I tell you, and not tomake use of the knowledge I communicate, until I give you leave?"

"Does it concern the honor or the welfare of those I love?"

"You mean that Englishman?"

"I do not love--I mean the Marquis, my uncle. "

"It does not, " said the young man, noting with throbbing heart thebroken sentence. 

"Then I give my promise. Speak. "

"I came here to conceal something, mademoiselle. "

"What?"

"An emblem. "

"Yours?"

"The Emperor's. "

"You mean----"

"The Eagle of the Fifth-regiment-of-the-Line. "

"Why here?"

"It is a long story. I brought it back, having fished it out of theriver Aube, where it had lain since that day----"

"When I thought you killed, " said the young woman, her hand pressed toher heart. 

"And were you sorry?"

"Sorry? I---- But go on. "

"I showed it to the officers of the regiment tonight at MajorLestoype's quarters. We were discovered. The matter was reported toyour uncle. Rather than give up the Eagle I said that I would hide it. "

"And why here?"

"Because being as I thought the quarters of the Commanding-Officer itwould be the last place in Grenoble where it would be sought. "

"And where did you hide it?"

"Back of one of the drawers in the cupboard yonder. "

"And how did you know of the place?"

"I was stationed here when I first joined the regiment. The châteauwas untenanted. I rambled all over it. I explored its nooks andcorners. I discovered that secret hiding place by chance and now theEagle is there. "

"And there it shall remain until it is discovered or until you give meleave to produce it, " said the girl firmly. 

"I have your promise?"

"You know well that I shall keep it. "

"I thank you, mademoiselle. Twice you have saved my life and now, whatis more to me than life, the emblem of my faith as a soldier, the honorof my regiment. "

"But why keep it, this Eagle, at all, " asked the girl, "and run thisrisk?"

"It may be needed again. "

"But by whom?"

"The Emperor. "

"The name is forbid. "

"But the man is not. "

"Ah, you think he will return?"

"I do. "

"And when?"

"Mademoiselle has all my secrets. I am in her power absolutely. Whykeep anything from her?"

"Why, indeed?" assented the woman, thrilling to the acknowledgment ofher power over the man she loved as any woman would. 

"When the violets bloom again, " said the young man, bowing. "Now, mademoiselle, I am at your service, " he resumed as she stared at him. 

"At my service? What do you mean?"

"You have caught me here in your room. You have only to call out tosummon assistance. I shall be removed from your pathway forever. "

"But the Eagle?"

"I shall find means before I die to tell someone where to look for itif it should be needed. "

"And I am to condemn you to death?"

"Why not?" said the young man. "I only lived to bring it back. Inever dreamed that I was to have the happiness of seeing you again. "

"Happiness? This anguish?" murmured the young woman in daringself-revelation. 

She had forgot the hour, her dress, the strangeness of the situation, the awful impropriety of it all, the possibility of discovery. Sheonly saw the man she loved. She saw how he loved her. She hung uponhis words, and would fain hear more--more!

"My God!" he responded with a sort of fierce pride that was almostarrogant. "Although I was born a peasant, mademoiselle, not the finestgentleman in France or England could love you as I do. Yet it isimpossible for you to love me now that the Emperor is no longer here. Your uncle would never consent. You, yourself, love that Englishgentleman. Why give thought to Marteau? Summon assistance, deliver meup and remember me as one who loved you with all the fervor of hisheart, or forget me, if you can. "

"I would not have you die, " said the woman, shuddering. "God forbid. "

"It is best so. Life holds nothing for me now. "

"But if the violets bloom again?" asked the other. 

"Ah!" exclaimed the man, throwing up his hands and drawing a longbreath. "Then!"

"How came you here, monsieur?"

"By that window there. There is a ladder without. It reaches most ofthe way. I am a good climber. The ivy----"

"Go as you came. None shall be the wiser. "

"To you always the disposition of my life, mademoiselle, " said Marteausimply. "I obey your command. Farewell. It is but a postponement, anyway, " he added as he turned away. "I can never escape fromGrenoble. They will seize me sooner or later and----"

"Stay!" she cried. 

Moved by an unaccountable impulse the girl took a step nearer to him. She loosened her clutch upon her garment and held out her hands to him. 

"If it is to be farewell, " she said tenderly, "know that I do not lovethat English Captain, no, and that. I----"

He seized her hand and covered it with kisses. 

"I can die with better grace now, " he said at last. 

Not daring to trust himself further he turned to the window again. Ashe put his hand on the lock of the casement he heard shouts and criesoutside, he saw torches. Escape that way was barred. The whole castleseemed suddenly to awake. He realized it all in a moment. He had beentraced there. In another minute he would be discovered in theCountess's room at that hour of the morning. He turned swiftly to thedismayed girl. 

"They are there, " he said. "Escape is cut off. "

Steps and voices resounded in the corridor. 

"Quick, " she said, "the closet yonder--you can hide. "

She understood the peril as well as he. 

"And bring disgrace upon you when they caught me? Never!"

"Marteau, for God's sake, I love you, " said the woman agonizingly. "Icannot----"

She stretched out her hands to him again. Very lovely she looked, thepeignoir falling from her white shoulders, the soft candle-lightilluminating and yet concealing in its vague shadows the beauty of faceand figure. Marteau did not dare to dwell upon that. He must act andinstantly. He rushed toward the woman. He caught her by the hand. Heeven shook her a little. 

"Shriek, " he whispered in her ear. 

He picked up the pistol from the bed upon which she had thrown it andpointing it upward pulled the trigger. Startled by his utterlyunexpected action, the meaning of which she could not fathom, she didscream loudly. The next instant the door was thrown open and into theroom half clad, sword in hand, burst the Marquis. With him were SirGervaise Yeovil and the young Captain, and attending them were servantsand guards bearing lights. 

The Marquis stared from his niece back to the young officer. 

"My God!" he exclaimed. "Is it you?"

Marteau could only bow. He had a few seconds to make up his mind, afew seconds to decide upon the role he must play. Well, his life wascertainly forfeit, his reputation he would also give for hers. Anyexplanation that he could make would be disbelieved unless, of course, he produced the Eagle, which was not to be thought of. Failing theEagle the more he endeavored to account for his presence the moredeeply would he involve the woman he loved. 

"I find you here, you that I treated almost like a gentleman, who, Ithought, nearly measured up to the title, in my niece's room at thishour of the morning, " continued the enraged old man. "Laure, hashe--has he harmed you?"

"You came too quickly, monsieur, " answered Marteau, himself, giving theyoung woman time to recover herself. "You heard the pistol shot. " Hethrew the weapon from him. "We were struggling. It went off and----"

"You damned low-born coward, " gritted out the English officer, steppingtoward him furious with anger. 

"Steady, Frank. There is something strange about this, " said SirGervaise gloomily, catching his son by the arm. "He is no coward. That I'll warrant. "

"But to seek entry into a woman's bed-chamber!" continued Frankfuriously. "If you were a gentleman I'd----"

"That 'almost, '" said Marteau, "saves me in this instance. "

"I feel this action almost as if it had been my own son, had Godblessed me with one, " said the old Marquis, slowly recovering hisself-command. "A loyal Marteau, a thief, a despoiler of women! Why, she knelt to you in the hall. She raised her voice in your defense, and now you--you----" His fingers twitched. "'The Count d'Aumenier, '"he added in bittery mockery. "You could not bear the title if it hadbeen left in your hand. I shall have you branded as a thief in themorning and----"

"My uncle, " said the woman, "he----"

"Mademoiselle, " interposed Marteau sharply, resolved to protect her atall hazards, "is not my case black enough without further testimonyfrom you? I beseech you to be silent. "

"Speak, Laure, " said the old Marquis. "If you have anything to saywhich will make his punishment surer and harder, I charge you to sayit. "

"Nothing, nothing, " answered the poor young woman. "Oh, if ever awoman's soul was tortured----"

"You tortured her, did you?" cried the Englishman, struggling in hisfather's arms. "I once thought of meeting you in the field--you--you!I would like to strangle you with my bare hands. "

"It is just. I honor monsieur for his rage. It is true, I love thewoman, and----"

"Is this the way a gentleman shows his affection?" roared out theEnglish captain. 

"Monsieur forgets that I am almost, not quite, a gentleman. "

"And there is another score we have to settle with you, " cried theMarquis. "That cursed Eagle--where is it?"

"Before I sought mademoiselle, " said Marteau, "I placed it in safetyand in such keeping as will watch over it. You will never find it. Itwill only be produced when"--he stopped--"when the violets bloom again. "

"What is this damned nonsense about flowers I hear everywhere?" burstout Sir Gervaise. 

"Well, monsieur, " said the Marquis, "it will be produced before thattime, or when the violets do bloom they will find some red soil out ofwhich to spring. "

"You mean----"

"As I live I will have you court-martialed in the morning and shot forhigh treason. I stand for the King, for the ancient laws of France. Iwill have no paltering with traitors, and I am more inclined to dealswiftly and summarily with you since to treason you add theft and thisattempt upon a woman. Produce that Eagle, or you die. "

"I must die, then, " said the young man. 

"By heaven, " said Sir Gervaise; looking keenly at the officer, "thereis more in this than I can understand. Give me leave, my lord, " heturned to Marteau. "I have liked you always. I would befriend younow. I do not believe in appearances always. Can you not explain?"

"Sir, " said Marteau, "I am grateful to find one here who stillbelieves----" He stopped. "The circumstances speak for themselves. Ilove mademoiselle. I was mad. I came here, I----"

"Gentlemen, " said the Marquis, "let us withdraw. It is scandalous thatwe should be here under such circumstances. You, sir, " he turned toMarteau, "this way. "

The poor Countess had stood in agony and despair. Marteau did not lookat her. He bent his head low as he passed her. Two soldiers of theguard grasped him by the arms, the rest closed about him. 

"Go, gentlemen. I will see you presently, " said the Marquis. "One ofyou servants yonder send the Countess's women here. "

"I thank God, " said young Yeovil, "that we got here in time. If he hadharmed you, dearest Laure, I would have killed him here where he stood. "

Her lover attempted to take her hand, but she shrank away from him. AsSir Gervaise passed her she bent forward and seized the old Baronet'shand and kissed it. He, at least, had seen that there was somethingbeneath the surface. 

"Now, my child, " said the old Marquis kindly, but with fearfulsternness, as the door closed behind the others, "what have you to addto what has been told?"

"What do you mean?"

"I know men. I know that that young man did not come here to assaultyou, or for robbery. You cannot tell me that the blood of the Marteauxruns in his veins for nothing. And I know you did not invite him here, either. You are a d'Aumenier. What is the explanation of it all?"

But the poor little Countess made no answer. She slowly collapsed onthe floor at the feet of the iron old man, who, to save her honor andreputation, had played his part, even as Marteau, in her bedroom onthat mad March morning. 

CHAPTER XXIII

THE MARQUIS GRANTS AN INTERVIEW

The old Marquis was face to face with a terribly difficult problem. That the Eagle had been brought back did not admit of doubt. St. Laurent had seen it, and the officers who had been present at themidnight meeting in the Major's rooms made no attempt whatever to denyit. Marteau admitted it. But it had disappeared. He had not thefaintest idea where it was. The most rigorous search had so far failedto discover it. Marteau had been questioned, appealed to, threatened, with no results whatsoever. His lips were sealed and no pressure thatcould be brought to bear sufficed to open them. He did not deny thathe knew where the Eagle was. He simply remained silent, immutablysilent, when he was asked where. 

From the few loyalist officers in the regiments and in the town a courthad been convened and Marteau had been put on trial. He had been foundguilty--indeed, there was no other verdict possible, since he calmlyadmitted everything--of treason, disobedience of orders, a wholecatalogue of crimes. The Marquis acted on the old feudal idea that hepossessed all the rights of the ancient nobility, the high and low, themiddle justice. And, indeed, he represented the King with full powers. The court, completely under his influence, had condemned the youngsoldier to death. Marteau might have appealed, he might haveprotested, but he did neither. He accepted the inevitable. What wasthe difference? No appeal would have been entertained, no protestwould have availed. It all came to this, he would either have to giveup the Eagle or his life. 

Well, life was not worth very much to him, as he had said. Even thoughhe realized from her desperate avowal of the night before that theinterest of the Countess in him was more than she would have admitted, had not the words been surprised and wrung from her by his deadlyperil, he knew that there was absolutely nothing to be hoped for inthat direction. Even though his comrades, alarmed by the imminence ofhis danger, and aroused by the energetic determination of the oldMarquis, besought him to give up the Eagle, he refused. He would haveconsidered himself a forsworn man had he done so. 

The Marquis had visited the prisoner and had condescended to make apersonal appeal to him, imploring him by that old duty and friendshipwhich had subsisted between the families, but his appeals had been asfruitless as his commands and his threats. The old noble was ironhard. He had no sympathy with the Empire or its Emperor, but thedetermination of the young officer did arouse a certain degree ofadmiration. He would fain have spared him if he could, but, as he hadsacrificed everything he possessed for the King, and counted thesacrifice as nothing, his sympathies did not abate his determination topunish treason and contumacy one whit. 

The Marquis was accustomed to having things his own way, and the longperiod of exile had not changed his natural bent of mind in thatparticular. He was angry, too, at the stubbornness which henevertheless admired. In other directions the Marquis was balked. Hehad seen through the little drama that had been played by Marteau andthe Countess Laure in her bedchamber. That was one reason why he wouldfain have saved him, because he had so gallantly allowed himself tooccupy the hideous role which he had assumed, to save the girl's honor. The Marquis had not the faintest suspicion that there was anythingwrong in the situation, or even that his niece had actually given herheart to this man. Such a thought could not be entertained at all. 

It was inconceivable, but he knew that, however innocent might havebeen that meeting, if it had been prearranged the world would considerthe Countess disgraced, unless the explanation which Marteau hadsuggested was allowed to become current. He had summoned his niecebefore him, and had sought in every way to force her to tell him thewhole truth, but she had partaken, in some degree, of Marteau'sstubbornness. All she would say was, that Marteau was innocent of anycrime or any wrong. But, when the bewildered Marquis asked her if shehad invited him there, and if he was there by her permission, she hadindignantly repudiated the suggestion as an insult, which left him morepuzzled than before. 

The idea that Marteau had come there to hide the Eagle had neverentered the Marquis' mind for all his acuteness. He had asked the girlwhether Marteau had brought anything into the room or taken anythingfrom it, and she had answered truthfully that when she saw him he hadbeen exactly as when they saw him. The testimony of the Marquis andthe two Englishmen rendered it unnecessary for the Countess to bepresent at the court-martial. There was nothing material she couldadd, and, indeed, it was not for attempted theft, or assault, thatMarteau had been condemned--the Marquis had suppressed that as much aspossible--but for his conduct with the Eagle. 

It was the fifth of March, a warm and sunny day in the south of France, even amid the mountains and hills of ancient Dauphiné. Great thingswere toward, although the Marquis did not yet know it. The executionof the condemned was set for the next day. At ten o'clock in themorning the regiment was to be paraded and Marteau was to be shot. Hehad asked that he might be granted a soldier's death, and the Marquishad seen fit to grant the request. 

There were very few troops in Grenoble which could be counted as loyalto the King, but there were some. From them the Marquis intended todraw his firing party, and with them he intended to over-awe theregiment if there should be any outbreak. He was too keen a judge ofhumanity, and too well able to read the characters of men not torealize the whole regiment was in a mutinous temper over the Eagleepisode, that they looked upon Marteau as a martyr, and that theremight be outbreaks and grave difficulties before he was shot. Well, difficulties did not daunt the stout-hearted, inflexible old noble. Herather enjoyed them. He rather welcomed this occasion, too, because heintended to be master now, and, having once mastered the regiment, hefelt he would have no difficulty in controlling it in any futureemergency. 

To him, as he sat in his cabinet maturing his plans for the morrow, came a message from his niece, asking admittance. The privilege was, of course, instantly granted, and Laure d'Aumenier presently enteredthe room. 

"Have you come, my child, " began the old man, regarding her tenderly, for in the few years she had been with him he had learned to estimatethe worth of her character and love her as she deserved, "to explainthis mystery, to tell me why you declare that the presence of a man inthe room of a woman of my house at three o'clock in the morning isinnocent? I repeat, " he went on reassuringly, "that I cannot conceiveof or admit any wrong on your part, and that makes the situation moreimpossible of explanation. "

"My uncle, " answered the Countess, "I can only say that Monsieur JeanMarteau is not guilty, as he seems. "

"And I can quite believe that, " said the old Marquis. "Indeed, ourEnglish friend, who for all his bluntness is not without discriminationand good sense, has said as much to me. He declared with greatemphasis that there was something in it all which he could notunderstand. "

"And you--what did you say?"

"I asked him if that was meant for any reflection on the honor of myfamily, for if it were I should accord him the pleasure of crossingswords with me and in the end run him through. "

"And he said----"

"He disclaimed absolutely the idea. He is as convinced of yoursweetness, your innocence and purity, as I am. "

"And Captain Yeovil?"

"He lacks his father's insight and finesse. He is young. He takesmatters as he sees them, and fancies Marteau the common, vulgar thiefhe appeared. "

"Impossible!" cried the Countess. "He is----"

"No doubt he is not especially prepossessed in favor of MonsieurMarteau, who has presumed to love you, and perhaps that accounts forhis willingness to believe anything derogatory of him. "

"He is blind, and I----"

"But you are not declining his hand on that account!"

"No, the marriage stands. I could wish that it did not, " said thewoman passionately. "I could be happier if he suspected me ofanything, however base, and in his suspicion set me free. "

"Hark ye, Laure, " said the Marquis earnestly. "I am an old man, andthe life I have led has not served to maintain my youth. What I amengaged in now does not conduce to that ease of body and peace of mindwhich promotes long life. To you I say what I have said to no oneelse. We are standing, as it were, on a volcano. The army is in nosense loyal to the King. I advised that it be disbanded absolutely, but I was overruled. It is seething with sedition. The envoys of thepowers at Vienna are playing, idling, debating endlessly, and whilethey play and idle and talk in their fools' paradise, the Emperor, hewho is so called by misguided France, will return. I should not besurprised at any moment to receive tidings that he has landed. "

"And that is what they mean when they speak about the violets bloomingagain?"

"Yes, that is it. And, do you know as I walked in the garden thismorning I found this. "

He tossed the first tiny purple violet of the spring on the tablebefore her. 

"But he will be dead before the Emperor comes, " murmured the woman, herhand upon her heart. 

"Put that thought out of your mind, my child, " said the old man. "Think rather of Captain Yeovil. "

"I hate him, " said the Countess, which was most unjust, for he had donenothing at all to deserve such an expression on her part. 

"Hate is the passion of old age, " said the Marquis slowly, "love thatof youth. I told you that my race would soon be run. I am an old man. I have suffered much. I shall be content to die if I can serve my Kinghere a little after all these years of weary waiting. The title-deedsthat young man gave back do not cover much. The estate has beendivided and granted to strangers. It is practically all gone but theold château. I have little or nothing to leave you beyond those smallamounts which your father used to send me, which I never would touchbecause they came from a disloyal France. The Yeovils are true andworthy people. The boy is a gallant lad, a brave soldier, even if notoverly acute. Sir Gervaise is a man of consideration and of greatwealth. You are portionless. He is most generous. I am very happy inthe thought that you will be taken care of. I know what it is to bealone and poor. "

"I cannot bear----"

"We have to bear a great many things that we do not wish to in thislife. You owe me some consideration. I still retain my faith andconfidence in you. I have not pressed you to the wall with hardquestions about last night. "

"I know, I know, but----"

"And, as the head of the house, I must have even from the children theobedience which is my due. "

"I do not wish to fail in my duty toward you, monsieur, but----"

"And your word, the word of a d'Aumenier, has been plighted. Youentered into this engagement of your own free will. There was noconstraint. "

"But there was pressure. "

"Yes, certainly, I know what is best for you, but you were not forcedin any way, and your troth, having been plighted, your word given"--theold man stopped, looked at her solemnly, his long fingers tappinglightly on the table--"it must be kept, " he said, with that air ofabsolute finality which none could assume better than he. 

"It shall be, although it kills me. "

"If I live I shall see that it is; and if I die I have your promise?"

"You have. "

"That is well. You will live to thank me and bless me. I havefancied, of late, that your heart had been allowed to decline a littleto this Marteau. Oh, he is a brave man and true, I know. I take nostock in his confession of theft or assault upon you. Why, I wouldhave cut him down where he stood, or have him kill me if I believedthat! But he is of another race, another blood. The Eagle does notstoop to the barnyard fowl. The heart of a woman is a strange thing. It leads her in strange ways if she follows its impulses. Thank Godthere are men who can and will direct and control those impulses. Puthim out of your mind. It is best. To-morrow he will be a dead man. At any rate, I am rather glad of that, " said the Marquis, halfreflectively, knowing what trouble he might have made if he were to beallowed to live on. It was cold-blooded, but he could sacrificeMarteau for his niece's happiness, and find abundant justification inthe annals of his house, where he could read of many Marteaux who hadbeen sacrificed or had sacrificed themselves for the d'Aumeniers. 

"I--I will promise, " faltered the girl, "but on one condition. "

"I like it not when youth makes conditions with age. Nevertheless, what is in your mind?"

"I want to see Marteau again. "

"Impossible!"

"Wait, " said the woman quickly. "Is it not true, have I not heard thathe is condemned outwardly because he brought an Eagle here and it isgone?"

"Yes, that is true. "

"And has it not been said that if he produced the Eagle his life couldbe spared and he could go?"

"That is also true. "

"And would it not allay the dissatisfaction of the regiment andcontribute to the establishment of your authority if he gave it up?"

"My authority is established by the King. "

"The maintenance of it, then. Would it not enable you to control andhold in check these people, if you could show that you had not beenbalked?"

"That may be, " said the Marquis. "Go on. "

"And, if he should produce the Eagle----"

"I would save his life, but he would be a discredited man among hiscomrades, if I know anything about it. "

"Oh, not that, surely. "

"Surely; and I may tell you that if I were in his place I would doexactly as he has done. "

The woman stepped nearer and put her hand to her head. 

"Nevertheless, I must see him. Have mercy!" she entreated piteously. 

"Why? Do you think you can persuade him to produce the Eagle--to hisdiscredit, be it remembered?" asked the old man, surveying her keenly, realizing at last the extraordinary interest she took in Marteau. 

"But it is his life if he does not. "

"Do you care so much for--his life?"

"Yes, " answered the woman, looking the Marquis straight in the eyes. 

He recognized a will as inflexible as his own. It aroused hisadmiration. He arose to his feet. He bowed before her. 

"Mademoiselle, " he said firmly, "you have the strength of our house. Perhaps it might be well if he could be induced to produce the Eagleand be thus discredited in the eyes of his comrades. It would tend tomake my authority more secure. It would be to the advantage of theKing. "

"Yes, yes. "

"But what argument can you bring?"

"I--I do not know. "

"Alas, my child, you know more than you will tell. Oh, I recognizethat it is useless to appeal, and impossible to constrain. Well, yougive me your word of honor that whatever happens you will carry throughthe engagement with Captain Yeovil, and that we will together arrange aproper time and that you----"

"I give it. "

"Your hand, " said the Marquis. "Without there!" He raised his voice. An orderly appeared. "Send Monsieur St. Laurent to me. "

"Monsieur, " continued the old man, as the officer presented himself, "you will conduct the Countess Laure d'Aumenier to the smalldrawing-room; you will leave her there; you will then go to theguard-house and bring thence the prisoner, Marteau; you will conducthim to mademoiselle, my niece, and you will leave them together forhalf an hour; you will see that the prisoner is carefully guarded, thatsentries are posted outside of the windows, and you, yourself, willremain with other escort, in front of the door. "

"But out of hearing, " said the young woman quickly. 

"That, of course. And on your honor, on your duty, on your allegiance, you will say absolutely nothing about this to any one. Do youunderstand?"

"I understand, monsieur. I shall obey, " said St. Laurent, a youth ofrare quality, as has been seen. 

"Good. You have one half-hour, my child. God grant that you may serveFrance and induce this wretched prisoner to give up the Eagle. Yourimpulse of mercy does you credit, " he said adroitly, making the best ofthe situation for St. Laurent's benefit. "Now you may go. "

"This way, mademoiselle, " said St. Laurent, bowing low before her atthe open door. 

As the Countess passed down the long corridor she almost ran into youngPierre, the boy. He had been questioned with the rest, but hadabsolutely nothing to tell. Of course, he knew about the recovery ofthe Eagle, but that was all. He had known nothing about the midnightmeeting. The Countess Laure had taken him into her service, her unclebeing willing. And he had spent a miserable day when not with her, wondering and hoping and praying for Marteau. With others in theregiments he had received important news in the last hour, and had madeevery effort to get it to Marteau, as had been suggested to him, but hehad hitherto failed. No sentry would pass him, and there was no way hecould get speech with the prisoner. 

He was in despair when he saw the Countess approaching, St. Laurentmarching ceremoniously ahead, as if to clear the way. 

"Mademoiselle, " he whispered, plucking her gown. 

"What is it?" asked the girl, naturally sinking her voice to theother's pitch. 

"You will see--him?"

"Yes. "

"A message. "

"What is it?"

"Give him this. "

The boy thrust into her hand two or three flowers like those her unclehad picked, the first purple blossoms of the virgin spring. 

"And the message?"

"The violets have bloomed, " said the boy, and he was gone. 

CHAPTER XXIV

ON THE WHOLE DEATH MAY BE BETTER THAN LIFE

Marteau realized fully his position, and it would be idle to say thatdespite his depression he contemplated his fate without regret. Normally he would have wanted to live as much as any man, even thoughin his more passionate moments he had said that life without Laured'Aumenier held nothing for him. To be sure, life without her did notlook very inviting, and there was nothing in it for which heparticularly cared, especially since the Emperor was gone, and Marteauhad become a stranger, as it were, in France. If the Emperor had comeback, or was coming back, it would be different. 

In spite of rumors, originating nowhere apparently and spread by whatmeans no one could say, that the Emperor was coming back, Marteau, inthe depressed condition of his mind, gave these statements but littlecredence. Besides, even if they were true, even if Laure d'Aumenierloved him, even if he had everything on earth for which a man could askor expect to live, he could not therewith purchase life; he could noteven purchase love, at the expense of his honor. 

He could not give up the Eagle for the kingdom. It was only a bit ofgilded copper, battered and shattered, but it awakened in his naturethe most powerful emotions which he was capable of entertaining. Hislove for Laure d'Aumenier was the great passion of his life. Yet evenhis love for the woman, or hers for him, if she had returned hisdevotion with equal intensity and ardor, would not avail to persuadehim to give up that battered standard. 

Even if she had loved him! Ah, what had she said in that moment ofmadness in her room that night? It was a moment of madness, of course, nothing else. Marteau put it out of his mind, or strove to. It couldnot be. Indeed, now that he was about to die, he would even admit thatit should not be. But, if it were true, if that impulsive declarationindicated the true state of her regard--the possibility was thrilling, yet reflection convinced him it was better that he should die just thesame, because there could be no mating between the two. 

He had crossed swords with the Marquis. He had felt the hardness, theinflexibility and temper of the old man's steel. There would be nobreaking him, no altering his will. He had made assurance doubly surein some way, Marteau was convinced. This marriage with this youngEnglishman, whom the Frenchman regarded with a tolerant, half-amusedcontemptuousness for his simplicity and bluntness, would have to becarried through. When Marteau was dead the Countess would presumablyreturn to a saner frame of mind, and forget the mad attachment, ifindeed she had entertained it. 

He took a certain melancholy satisfaction in the hope that he would atleast become one of her sacred and cherished memories. But no memorycan successfully dispute the claim of the living, as a rule. She wouldeventually marry this Englishman; he would make her a good husband, andby and by she would be happy, and Marteau would not be there to see. And for that he would be glad. 

If the Emperor had been there, if the war god had come and summoned hismen to arms again, Marteau might have eased the fever in his brain andsoul by deeds of prowess on fields of battle, but in peace he shouldonly eat his heart out thinking of her in the other man's arms. Therewere things worse than death, and this was one. On the whole, heconcluded it was just as well, or even better, that he should die. 

He was sufficiently versed in military and even civil law to see thathis condemnation was irregular in the extreme, but he let it go. Hewas an obscure officer of a lost cause. There would not be any toorigorous an inquiry into what disposition the Marquis made of him. Nobody would care after it was all over. There remained nothing forhim, therefore, but to die like a soldier, and--he smiled bitterly atthe thought--almost a gentleman!

He had been informed that any reasonable request he made would begranted. He would fain see a priest of his Church, but later, andendeavor to make his peace with man after the time-honored custom ofhis religion, and thus insure his peace with God. Meanwhile, a requestfor a brief interview with the woman he loved had trembled on his lips, but it had found no utterance. He was quite aware how he stood in thatquarter. He had come to the conclusion that the Marquis, at least, hadseen through the little comedy--or, was it not a tragedy, afterall?--which he had played in her bed-chamber, and he had convincedhimself that the swiftness, the almost unseemly haste of his trial andcondemnation and the nearness of his execution were largely due to adetermination on the part of the old noble to get him out of the waybefore any scandal should arise. Perhaps scandal was certain to come, and gossip to prevail, but it would be less harmful if the man weredead. 

To ask to see a woman whom he was supposed to have insulted so deeplyand wronged so grievously would have served only to call attention tothose things, to have given the whole game away, as it were. Besides, what would be the good of it? She would leave him weaker in hisresolution than before. If she had loved him--ah, God, how his heartthrobbed--if that impulsive admission had been the truth of her heart!Well, he told himself, he would have gone through the trial, acceptedthe verdict, received the bullets of the firing-squad in his heart, although it would have been harder. And yet--how he longed to see her. 

He had not expected to see her ever again during his long tramp fromSalzburg to Grenoble. He had not entertained the least idea that shewould be there. He had schooled himself to do without her, contemplatelife absolutely sundered from her. But when he did see her his wholebeing had flamed with the passion he had so long repressed in vain. 

And the Countess Laure knew more of his heart than he fancied. Duringthe morning she had had young Pierre before her. She had questionedhim, suggesting and even prompting his artless revelations. The boyneeded no suggestions. He was quick-witted and keen-eyed. AdmiringMarteau extravagantly and devotedly as he did, he could not conceivehow any one could fail to share his feelings. He told thehungry-hearted woman the story of their lives since they had beencaptured together at Arcis. 

Reticent at first, Marteau had finally made a confidant of the lad, whohad shown himself sympathetic, discreet, adoring. He had to tellsomebody, he had to ease his heart of his burden. And when he had oncebegun naturally he poured it all out before the boy. He could not havetold a man, a woman, perhaps, had one been by sufficiently sympatheticand tender, but, failing that, it was the boy who received theconfidences and who never once presumed on these revelations. Indeed, he had a vein of romance in his peasant heart. He was a poet in hissoul. Perhaps that was one reason why the man could confide in him. And then, when Marteau lay in the delirium of fever, the boy had sharedtheir watches with the good Sisters of Charity. He alone hadunderstood the burden of his ravings, for they were all about thewoman. And, when she questioned him and gave him the opportunity, hepoured forth in turn all the stored treasure of his memory. 

And the poor, distraught, unhappy young woman hung on his words withheaving breast and panting heart and tear-dimmed eyes and cheeks thatflushed and paled. Glad she was that he had so loved her; sad that itcould make no difference. Indeed, young Pierre served his master wellin that hour, and earned whatsoever reward, however great it might be, he should receive from him in the future. 

How strangely selfish even in its loves is humanity! Although Marteauwas intensely fond of the lad, and deeply devoted to him, absorbed inhis overwhelming affection for the woman he had forgot the boy untiltoo late to send for him that day. Well, he would remedy that omissionon the morrow, he thought, as he abandoned himself once more to dreamsof other days, to fruitless anticipations, to vain hopes of what mighthave been. 

To him suddenly came St. Laurent. The young aide knew but vaguely ofthe scene in the Countess's bed-chamber and, therefore, there was noprejudice in his mind against the officer. Although he was a loyalistto the core, he could sympathize as a soldier with the other's point ofview. His address toward him, therefore, was respectful, and evenindicated some of that sympathy. 

"Monsieur, " he began most courteously, "I am sent by the Governor toconduct you elsewhere. "

"Shall I need my hat and cloak, monsieur?" asked the other, quiteappreciative of the young man's treatment of him. 

"You will, " was the answer. 

"Am I leaving this room permanently?"

"You will return to it in half an hour. "

"And whither----"

"You will pardon me, " was the firm reply, "I have orders to conductyou, not to answer questions. "

"Your reproof, " admitted Marteau, smiling faintly, "is well deserved. I attend you at once, sir. "

Escorted by St. Laurent and two soldiers, he left the building, walkedacross the barrack yard, attracting instant attention from the soldiersoff duty congregated there, and a few officers of the garrison whochanced to be passing. All of them saluted him with the utmostdeference and the most profound respect. He punctiliously acknowledgedtheir salutes with a melancholy grace and dignity. There was an air ofgreat excitement everywhere, and he wondered vaguely what could be thecause of it. 

To his further wonderment also he found his steps directed to theGovernor's palace. Entering, he was ushered through the halls andmarched to the door of a room which he remembered was one of thesmaller waiting-rooms of the palace. St. Laurent stopped before thedoor, his hand upon the knob. 

"Monsieur, " he said, "to this room there is but this one door. Iremain without with these soldiers. You can see by a glance throughthe windows that they also are closely guarded. Escape is impossible. In half an hour I will knock upon the door, open it, and escort youback to your place of confinement. Do you understand?"

"Perfectly. "

"Enter. "

Somewhat bewildered by the mysteriousness of the whole proceeding, andyet with a heart which in spite of himself did beat a little faster, Marteau entered the room, St. Laurent closing the heavy door behind him. 

CHAPTER XXV

NOT EVEN LOVE CAN FIND A WAY

Standing in the middle of the room, her closed hand resting upon atable upon which she leaned as if for support, was Laure d'Aumenier. The old Marquis had not noticed it, nor did the young man; that is, theeye of neither took in the details, but both had been conscious of thegeneral effect, for the young Countess had dressed herself in her mostbecoming gown, one that had been newly made for her in Paris before thejourney to the south of France and that she had never worn before. 

She had spent a miserable night and day. When she had talked with heruncle a short time before, the effects of her sleeplessness and anguishhad been plainly apparent. But there, within that room, her colorcoming to her face, her eyes shining with excitement and emotion, shelooked as fresh and as beautiful as the springtime without. 

It was her right hand that rested on the table, and as Marteauapproached her left instinctively sought her heart. In his emotion helooked at her with steady, concentrated glance, so keen, so piercing, as if he sought to penetrate to the very depths of her heart, that shecould scarcely sustain his gaze. He, too, had forgot cares andanxieties, anticipation, hopes, dreams; in his excitement and surpriseeverything had gone from him but her presence. Here was the woman heloved, looking at him in such a way, with such an air and such abearing, her hand upon her heart--was that heart beating for him? Wasshe trying to still it, to control it, because----

His approach was slow, almost terribly deliberate, like the movement ofthe old Guard under Dorsenne--_Le Beau Dorsenne_!--against the heightsof Pratzen on the glorious yet dreadful day of Austerlitz. His advancewas irresistible, but unhurried, as if there must be a tremendous clashof arms in a moment to which haste could lend nothing, from the dignityand splendor of which hurry would detract. At another time the womanmight have shrunk back faltering, she might have voiced a protest, ortemporized, but now, in the presence of death itself, as it were, shestood steady waiting for him. Enjoying the luxury of looking upon himunrestrained, her heart going out to him as he drew nearer, nearer, nearer, she found herself tremblingly longing for his actual touch. 

Now his arms went out to her, she felt them slowly fold around her, andthen, like a whirlwind released, he crushed her against his breast, and, as she hung there, her throbbing heart making answer to thebeating of his own, he kissed her again, again, again. Her heartalmost stopped its beating. Beneath the fire of his lips her faceburned. Her head drooped at last, her tense body gave way, she leanedupon him heavily, glad for the support of his strong arms. 

"Laure, " he whispered, "my little Laure, you love me. Oh, my God, youlove me. It was true, then. I did not dream it. My ears did not mockme. "

"Yes, yes, " said the woman at last. "Whoever you are, whatever youare, wherever you go, I love you. "

"And was it to tell me this that you came?"

"Yes. But not for this alone. "

"What else?"

"I would have you live. "

"For you?"

"For me. "

"As your husband?"

"And if that were possible would you----"

"Yes, yes, would I what?"

"Give up the Eagle?"

"My God!" said the man, loosening his clasp of her a little and holdingher a little away that he might look at her. "Does your love tempt meto dishonor?"

"I do not know, " said the woman piteously. "I am confused. I cannotthink aright. Oh, Marteau, Jean, with whom I played as a child, thinkof me. I cannot bear to see you dead outside there. I cannot lookupon a soldier without thinking of it. The rattling of the carts inthe streets sounds in my ear like shots. Don't, don't die. You mustnot. "

"And, if I lived, would you love me?"

"So long as the good God gives me the breath of life. "

"With the love of youth and the love of age?"

"Aye, for eternity. "

"And would you be my wife?"

"Your wife?" said the woman, her face changing. "It would be joybeyond all, but I could not. "

"Why not?"

"I--you know I am promised to another, " she went on desperately, "andbut that I might see you I repeated the promise. Otherwise my unclewould never have permitted me this blessed privilege. I told him thatI would marry anybody if he would only let me see you--alone--for amoment, even. What difference, so long as I could not be yours? Icame to tell you that I loved you, and because of that to beg you tolive, to give up that Eagle. What is it, a mere casting of metal, valueless. Don't look at me with that hard, set face. Let me kiss theline of your lips into softness again. I cannot be your wife, but atleast you will live. I will know that somewhere you think of me. "

"And would death make a difference? High in the highest heaven, shouldI be so fortunate as to achieve it, I would think of you; and, if Iwere to be sent to the lowest hell, I could forget it all in thinkingof you. "

"Yes, yes, I know how you love, because----"

"Because why?"

"I won't hesitate now. It may be unmaidenly, but I know, because I, too----"

"Laure!" cried the man, sweeping her to him again. 

"I think I loved you when we were boy and girl together, " said thewoman, throwing everything to the winds in making her great confession. "I know I loved you that night in the château, although I would notadmit it, and I treated you so cruelly. And when they told me you weredead, then, then, my heart broke. And when you came here and I saw youtwo men together--oh, I had made the contrast in my imagination--butlast night I saw and now I see. Oh, you will live, live. What ishonor compared to a woman's heart? See, I am at your feet. You willnot break me. You will live. Something may happen. I am not marriedyet. The Emperor may come back. "

"The boy, Pierre, said last night that it was rumored----"

"Yes, he gave me a message. I almost forgot it. " She held out theviolet crushed in her fevered palm. "He said to tell you that theviolet has bloomed. "

"Does he mean----?"

"I know not what he means. "

"It is but an assurance begot of hope, " said Marteau. 

"And if it were so?"

"He comes too late. Rise, my lady. It is not meet for you to kneel. Let me lift you up, up to my heart. I cannot give up the Eagle. ThatI have won your love is the most wonderful thing in all the world. Itpasses my understanding, the understanding of man, but I should forfeitit if I should permit myself this shame. "

"Then I will do it, I will betray you, " said the little Countessdesperately. "I alone know where that Eagle is. I will get it. Iwill bargain with my uncle for your life. Marteau, listen. Do youwish to condemn me to death? I will not, I cannot, survive you. Iwill not be thrust into that other's arms. I did not know, I did notrealize what it was--before. But since I have been here, since youhave held me to your heart, since you have kissed me--no, I cannot. Itwould be desecration--horror. Let me go. I will tell. "

"Dearest Laure, " said the man, holding her tighter, "think, be calm, listen. It needs not that I assure you of my love. I have proved it. I lie here with the stigma of shame, the basest of accusations in thehearts of those who know of our meeting at night, to save you fromsuspicion even. "

"Not my uncle, not the Marquis. He says there is something back of itall. He knows you are not a thief. "

"It takes a d'Aumenier to understand a Marteau, " said the young manproudly. 

"And I am a d'Aumenier, too, " said the woman. 

"Then strive to comprehend my point of view. "

"I can, I will, but----"

"What binds you to that Englishman?"

"My word, my uncle's word. "

"Exactly. And what else binds you to keep my secret?"

The woman stared at him. 

"Oh, do not urge that against me, " she pleaded. "I must tell all. "

"I have your word. That Eagle must remain hidden there until theEmperor comes back. Then you must give it to him and say that I diedthat you might place it in his hand. "

"There must be a way, and there shall be a way, " said the agonizedwoman. "I love you. I cannot have you die. I cannot, I cannot. "

Her voice rose almost to a scream in mad and passionate protest. 

"Why, " said the man soothingly, "I am the more ready to die now that Iknow that you love me. Few men have ever got so much out of life asthat assurance gives me. That I, peasant-born, beneath you, shouldhave won your heart, that I should have been permitted to hold you tomy breast, to feel that heart beat against my own, to drink of thetreasures of your lips, to kiss your eyes that shine upon me---- Oh, my God, what have I done to deserve it all? And it is better, farbetter, having had thus much and being stopped from anything further, that I should go to my grave in this sweet recollection. Could I liveto think of you as his wife?"

"If you will only live I will die myself. "

"And could I purchase life at that price? No. We have duties toperform--hard, harsh words in a woman's ear, common accustomed phraseto a soldier. I have to die for my honor and you have to marry foryours. "

"Monsieur, " broke in the sharp, somewhat high, thin voice of the oldMarquis standing by the door, "the court-martial brands you as atraitor. Captain Yeovil and those who were with me last night thinkyou are a thief and worse. But, by St. Louis, " continued the oldnoble, fingering his cross, as was his wont in moments in which he wasdeeply moved, "I know that you are a soldier and a gentleman. "

"A soldier, yes; but a gentleman?--only 'almost, ' my lord. "

"Not almost but altogether. There is not another man in France whocould withstand such a plea from such a woman. "

"You heard!" exclaimed Marteau. 

"Only the last words. I heard her beg you to live because she lovedyou. "

"And you did not hear----"

"I heard nothing else, " said the Marquis firmly. "Would I listen? Ispoke almost as soon as I came in. Laure, these Marteaux have livedlong enough by the side of the d'Aumeniers to have become ennobled bythe contact, " he went on naïvely. "I now know the young man as I knowmyself. It is useless for you to plead longer. I come to take youaway. "

"Oh, not yet, not yet. "

"Go, " said the young officer. "Indeed, I cannot endure this longer, and I must summon my fortitude for to-morrow. "

"As for that, " said the Marquis, "there must be a postponement of theexecution. "

"I ask it not, monsieur. It is no favor to me for you to----"

"Thank God! Thank God!" cried the woman. "Every hour means----"

"And I am not postponing it because of you, " continued the Marquiscoolly. "But he who must not be named----"

"The Emperor. "

"So you call him--has landed. "

"Yes, yes; for God's sake, tell me more. "

"I have no objection to telling you all. He is on the march towardGrenoble. He will be here tomorrow night. Troops have been sent forand will assemble here. He will be met in the gap on the road a fewmiles below the town. He will be taken. If he resists he will beshot. "

"Yes, the violets have bloomed again. "

"And they shall draw red nourishment from the soil of France, " was theprophetic answer. 

"The Emperor!" cried the young man in an exultant dream, "in Franceagain! The Emperor!"

"And so your execution will be deferred until we come back. TheEmperor may take warning from it when he witnesses it, " continued theimperturbable old royalist. 

"I shall see him once more. "

"As a prisoner. "

Marteau started to speak, checked himself. 

"For the last time, " said the girl, "I beg----"

"It is useless. "

"Let me speak again. My uncle has a kind heart under that hardexterior. He----"

"A kind heart, indeed, " said the old man, smiling grimly, as Marteaushook his head at the girl he loved so well. "And, to prove it, here. "

He extended a sealed paper. Marteau made no effort to take it. Herecognized it at once. For a moment there flashed into the woman'smind that it was a pardon. But the old man undeceived her. 

"Do you give it to him, Laure, " he said. "It is that patent ofnobility that he gave up. Acting for my King, who will, I am sure, approve of what I have done, I return it to him. As he dies with thespirit and soul of a gentleman, so also shall he die with the title. _Monsieur le Comte d'Aumenier_, I, the head of the house, welcome youinto it. I salute you. Farewell. And now, " the old man drew out hissnuff box, tendered it to the young man with all the grace of theancient régime. "No?" he said, as Marteau stared in bewilderment. "The young generation has forgot how, it seems. Very well. " He took apinch himself gracefully, closed the box, tapped it gently with hislong fingers, as was his wont. "Monsieur will forgive my back, " hesaid, turning abruptly and calling over his shoulder, "and in a momentwe must go. "

Ah, he could be, he was a gentleman of the ancient school, indeed. Itseemed but a second to youth, although it was a long time to age, before he tore them apart and led the half-fainting girl away. 

CHAPTER XXVI

THEY MEET A LION IN THE WAY

Morning in the springtime, the sixth of March, 1815, bright and sunny, the air fresh. The parade-ground was filled with troops. There were theveterans of the old Seventh-of-the-Line, under the young ColonelLabédoyère. Here were the close-ranked lines of the Fifth regiment, Major Lestoype astride his big horse at the head of the first battalion. Grenier, Drehon, Suraif and the other officers with their companies, themen in heavy marching order, their white cockades shining in the brightsunlight in their shakos. The artillery was drawn up on the walls, thelittle squadron of household cavalry was in attendance upon the Marquis. His lean, spare figure looked well upon a horse. He rode with all thegrace and ease of a boy. 

Yes, there were the colors, too, the white flag of France with the goldenlily in the place of the Eagle on the staff, at the head of the column. With ruffling of drums and presenting of arms the flag had been escortedto its place, and from the little group of cavalry had come the words notheard till recently for so many years in France:

"_Vive le Roi_!"

The troops had assembled silently, somewhat sullenly. They stoodundemonstrative now. What they would do no one could tell. The courierswho had dashed into the town yesterday night had told the story to theMarquis. Napoleon had landed five days before. He was within a day'smarch of Grenoble. His following consisted of eleven hundred Frenchinfantry, eighty Polish horsemen, and a few guns; troops of the line, andthe grenadiers of the Elba guard. The peasants had been apathetic. Hehad carefully avoided garrisoned towns, choosing the unfrequented anddifficult route over the maritime Alps of Southern France. He wasmarching straight into the heart of the country, to conquer or to diewith this little band. The messenger's news had been for the Governor'sears alone, but it had got out. Indeed, the tidings spread everywhere. Every wind that swept over the mountains seemed to be laden with thestory. The whole city knew that the foot of the idol was once more uponthe soil of France. They saw no feet of clay to that idol, then. 

The news had reached Paris via Marseilles almost before it was known inGrenoble. The terror-stricken government yet acted promptly. Troopswere put in motion, fast-riding expresses and couriers warned garrisonsand transmitted orders to capture or kill without mercy. By a singularfreak of fate most of these orders were perforce given to the oldcompanions in arms of the Emperor. Most of these were openly disaffectedtoward the King, and eager to welcome Napoleon. A few were indifferentor inimical to the prospective appeal of their former Captain. Stillfewer swore to capture him, and one "to bring him back in an iron cage!"Only here and there a royalist pure and simple held high command, as theMarquis at Grenoble. 

The old noble acted with great promptitude and decision. As the Governorof Dauphiné he had an extensive command. Grenoble was the most importanttown in the southeast. Within its walls was a great arsenal. It wasstrongly fortified, and adequately garrisoned. No better place to resistthe Emperor, if his initial force had grown sufficiently to make itformidable, could be found. Rumor magnified that force immensely. TheMarquis gave the order for the concentration of all the troops in theprovince, to the number of six thousand. He sent out scoutingdetachments, and companies of engineers to break down bridges and blockup roads--none of whom, by the way, obeyed his orders. In short, he dideverything that experience, skill and devotion could suggest to stop theEmperor and terminate the great adventure then and there. 

The ruffling of the drums in the square ceased. The old Marquis detachedhimself from his staff and the cavalry and rode out between theregiments. He lifted his hand. There was an intensity of silence onevery hand. Even the people of the town had left their places ofbusiness and were crowded close to the lines to hear and see what was tobe done. 

"Bonaparte, " said the Marquis, that high, thin, somewhat cracked oldvoice carrying with astonishing clearness in every direction, "landedfrom Elba in the Gulf of Juan a few days ago. This usurper, thisbloody-minded tyrant, has broken every oath, disregarded every treaty. He is coming to Grenoble. He will be here to-day. As loyal subjects ofour gracious and most catholic Majesty, King Louis XVIII, whom Godpreserve, " continued the old man, taking off his hat, "it becomes ourduty to seize, and if he resists, to kill this treacherous monster, whohad plunged Europe into a sea of blood and well-nigh ruined France. " Theold man did not mince words, it appeared! "You, gentlemen and comrades, have all sworn oaths before God and man to be faithful to the King whosebread you eat and whose uniform you wear. It has been said to me thatthere is disaffection among you. I cannot believe that a soldier ofFrance can be false to his oaths and to his flag. The Fifth Regiment ofthe Line will march with me to meet the Corsican. The cavalry and mypersonal escort will keep the gates. If by any chance we should bebeaten, which I cannot think possible with such brave men and gallantofficers, the town must be held. Colonel Labédoyère, to you I commit thecharge. Have your men line the walls. Dispose the troops which willsoon be arriving advantageously. See that the guns are double-shotted. If by any chance I do not return, hold the place to the last. Troops aremarching to your aid from all over France. Major Lestoype, move yourregiment. _Vive le Roi_!" ended the old man. 

Again the cry was echoed, but not by many; the household cavalry, one ortwo of the newer companies of the brigade, some of the citizens. TheMarquis noticed it; everybody noticed it. Well, what difference did itmake to the old man? They might cry or they might not cry. Fight theymust, and fight they should. He had something of the old Roman spirit inhim, the Marquis d'Aumenier. Upon him had devolved the conduct of thecritical issue. If he could stop Napoleon then and there his venturewould be a mere escapade and a sorry one. If he could not, then God helpFrance and the world. 

From the window of his prison, which overlooked the parade, Marteau hadseen and heard all. The Emperor was coming and he would not be there toextend him a welcome. He forgot that if Napoleon had been a day later itwould have made no difference to Marteau if he never came. He would havegiven years of his life, if it had been possible, to have marched withthe column. 

Orders had been published that morning postponing his execution until thereturn of the regiment. Just what was in the Marquis' mind no one couldabsolutely say, but he was shrewd enough to recognize the possibility ofan outbreak or an attempted mutiny among the troops, when the sentence ofexecution was being carried out. He did not want any difficulties ofthat kind then. Not because he feared them or felt unequal to them! Oh, no. But because such an outbreak would make the regiment more difficultto control in the greater emergency, and he knew he needed all theinfluence and moral power and force he could exercise to keep it in linefor the graver duty and more tremendous responsibility it must now face. And because he did not wish to leave it with Marteau in Grenoble, he tookthe regiment with him. If he could force it to do its duty and arrestNapoleon, he could deal with Marteau at his leisure. The Emperor was thegreater issue, and Marteau benefited by that fact. 

So, with drums beating and flags flying, the Fifth-of-the-Line marcheddown the road. With the Colonel and his staff rode Sir Gervaise Yeoviland his son. They had asked permission and it had been accorded them. Indeed, the staff was scanty. Young St. Laurent and an orderly, besidesthe two Englishmen, alone accompanied the old man. Realizing howcritical the situation was, and how important it was that the town shouldbe held, he had left every officer and man upon whom he could count withthe cavalry, and with instructions to watch Labédoyère particularly, andcheck any disloyalty, if possible. If the Marquis alone could not effecthis purpose with the regiment, no staff officer could aid him. He was alonely old man and a hard that morning. The odds against him weretremendous, and his weapons were flawed and breaking in his hand. Thatonly made him the more firmly resolute. He knew how sometimes one mancould enforce his will on unwilling thousands. Was he that man that day?He would see. 

Some miles south of the town the winding road ran along the side of ahigh and rocky hill. On the side opposite to the hill was a deep morass. This place was known as the Gap. The Marquis, who had apparently thoughtof everything, had reconnoitered the country, and had decided upon thedefensibleness of a place like this in the case of such an emergency ashe was about to face, for along that hillside ran the main highway to thecoast of France. 

The troops reached it about noon-time. The road was high up on thehillside. The Marquis, riding in advance of his regiment, saw far downthe long road and across a little river a moving column of men. Abovethem floated the tricolor flag, the blue and the red vividly distinct inthe bright sun, which seemed to be reflected, as it were, from a crown ofglory at the top of the staff. There were perhaps twelve hundredsoldiers on foot and a few score on horseback. They were coming steadilyalong the road. The distance was almost too great to distinguish men, but one rode a white horse at the head. The soldiers could see withtheir minds and hearts better than their eyes, and they recognized thatgray-coated figure on that familiar white horse. They could hear thebeating of drums faintly. The bridges had not been broken. The fordswere not guarded. The advance parties had failed. Presage of disaster!

The Marquis congratulated himself that he was in time to repair thedisobedience of orders, which he promised himself to punish at the firstopportunity. Instantly he directed Major Lestoype to deploy the men fromcolumn into line, so that they filled the road, which was here very broadand spacious. On a sloping hillside he placed flanking companies. Thecommand was given to load, and the ramrods soon rang in the gun-barrels. Major Lestoype's voice shook as he gave the commands, which were repeatedhoarsely, brokenly, nervously, by the company and the platoon officers. The dispositions of the men were soon concluded. The place of theMarquis was behind the line, but he rode to the right of it in a littledepression cut out by the rains of winter in the side of the hill, underneath a great tree which was just beginning to show its leaves inthe soft spring air and sunshine. From there he could command every partof the line with his glance, or move to the front or rear as the occasionmight warrant. There he could see and be seen. 

He was always pale, his old face seamed and drawn, but to his friends, the Englishmen, he seemed paler and older than ever, as he sat quietlycalming his nervous horse. And Sir Gervaise Yeovil was pale, too. Notthat he had any bodily fear, but the incident was so fraught withconsequences which a man as experienced as he could so easily foresee, appreciate and dread, that its possibilities oppressed his heart. YoungFrank Yeovil was all excitement, however. Napoleon had been buried inElba, but none mentioned his name in any country in Europe without athrill. Few do it now without a thrill, for that matter. The young man, modestly in the background, as was proper, leaned forward in his saddleand stared at the approaching men and the figure to the fore. So thiswas the great Bonaparte? He longed earnestly for a nearer view. 

"Think you, my lord, " whispered the Baronet to the old Marquis, his greatanxiety showing in his voice, "that your men are to be depended upon?That they will----"

The Marquis shook his head, stared down the ranks at the men standinggrim and tensely silent at parade-rest. 

"They look steady, " he replied, shrugging his shoulders. "They havetaken an oath to the King, and--God only knows. "

"What shall you do?"

"The best I can with the means at hand, " was the indomitable answer. 

"And if----"

"There are no 'ifs, ' monsieur, " was the imperious way in which theMarquis silenced the other. 

Recognizing that he had said enough, and indeed pitying the old man soalone, the Baronet drew back a little. 

"By heaven, " whispered young Frank Yeovil to his father, "I wouldn't beelsewhere for a thousand pounds. "

"It may cost you that before you get away, and more, " said the old mangrimly. "It will cost England millions, unless----"

"_Monsieur le Commandant_, " said old Major Lestoype, riding up to thegroup and saluting respectfully. 

"Major Lestoype. "

"The command is formed and ready, sir. "

"Very good. Take your place and be prepared. "

"Will _Monsieur le Marquis_ permit me?" asked the old soldier, who hadacquired a genuine respect for the old noble. 

"Permit you what?"

"To return his advice, " was the not unexpected reply. 

"The thought of me, which is evidently back of your words, sir, inclinesme to overlook their meaning and its impropriety. Know, sir, that I amalways ready, " was the grim comment of the ancient soldier. 

"Indeed, sir--" began the other, but the Marquis cut him short with animperious gesture and a word. 

"Retire. "

The Major saluted, resumed his place in the line. No one spoke. Theapproaching soldiers were nearer now. They were coming. TheFifth-of-the-Line sensed rather than heard a command down the road. Theysaw the guns of that little army come from their shoulders to a slantingposition across the breast--arms aport! It was the habit of the Guard togo into action at arms aport. What had Dorsenne, _Le Beau Dorsenne_, said on that famous day? "The Guard fights at the point of the bayonet!"Would the guns come down to a charge? Would they have to meet bayonetthrusts from these terrible soldiers?

There was something ominous in the slow movements of the men, picked menthey were, the grenadiers of the Elba Guard especially being of greatsize, their huge bearskins towering above them. They were marching incolumns of fours, but the road was wide; another sharp command and themen with slow yet beautiful precision deployed into a close column ofcompanies at half distance--the very formation for a charge in mass! Thebrass drums were rolling a famous march, "La Grenadière, " the grenadier'smarch. The hearts of the Fifth-of-the-Line were keeping time to thebeating of those drums. 

Ah, they were splendid soldiers, that regiment of infantry. Even theyouths got something from the veterans. They stood still, quiet, atparade-rest, staring. The distance was growing shorter, shorter andshorter. Some of the officers looked toward the Marquis. Even hisnervous horse seemed to have caught the spirit of the moment, for he wasat last still. The old man sat there immobile, his lips pressed, hiseyes fixed on the approaching troops and shining like sword-blades in thesunlight--horse and man carved, as it were, out of the rock of themountains. Presently that high, thin, sharp voice rang out. Men heardit above the rolling of the drums. 

"Attention!" he cried. The men straightened up, swung the heavy musketsto their sides. "Carry arms. " As one man the battalion lifted itsweapons. "Make ready!" With a little crash the guns were dropped intothe outstretched hands. 

The approaching men were nearer now. Still they came on with arms aport. Still the drums ruffled and rolled at their head. They were not going tomake any response apparently to the fire of the Fifth-of-the-Line. Werethey, indeed, to come to death's grapple at the bayonet's point with thatirresistible Guard? But no, there was a sudden movement, a change in theapproaching ranks. 

"Secure arms, " cried old Cambronne, and with their guns reversed andcomfortably tucked under their arms, the old soldiers came on. 

The meaning was plain, the battle was to be a moral one, evidently!

"Aim!" cried the sharp voice of the Marquis, and the guns came up to theshoulders of the long line, as they bent their heads and mechanicallysquinted along the barrels. 

The moment had come! Out in the front had ridden the familiar figure onthe white horse. They could see the details of his person now. His paleface was flushed under the familiar black, three-cornered cocked hat withits tricolor cockade, his gray redingote was buttoned across his breast. He suddenly raised his hand. The drums stopped beating, the movinggrenadiers halted. Ah, at last!

The Emperor sprang from his horse, not heavily, as of late, but with someof the alertness of a boy. He nodded to the ranks. Old GeneralCambronne, in command of the Guard, stepped forward. He took from thecolour-bearer the Eagle. Four grenadiers of the Colour Guard closedabout him--one of them was called Bullet-Stopper, by the way. In rearand a little to the right of the Emperor he moved, holding up the flagand the Eagle. A deep breath, almost a sob, ran down the line of theregiment. Protended guns wavered. Napoleon stepped forward. He threwback his gray overcoat, disclosing the familiar green uniform of theChasseurs of the Guard, which he affected. The cross of the Legion ofHonor glittered on his breast, a shining mark at which to aim. 

The flush on his ivory face died as quickly as it had come. He wasapparently as composed and as steady as if he had been cut out ofgranite. But tiny beads of sweat bedewed his brow, shaded by thatfamiliar cocked hat. What would the next moment disclose? Would he be aprisoner, the laughing stock, the jest of Europe? Or would he lie deadin the road, a French bullet in his heart? He had faced the guns ofevery people in Europe, but he had never faced French guns before. Wouldany finger in that line press a trigger? Only God knew, but the Emperorwould soon find out. Better death than exile without wife, child, friend, or France. On the hazard of the moment he staked all. Yet hewho could have looked into that broad breast could have seen that heartbeating as never before. Firmly he stepped on. 

CHAPTER XXVII

COMRADE! GENERAL! EMPEROR!

"Behold the traitor, " shouted the Marquis, his emotion lending depth tothat thin voice. "Fire, soldiers!"

No finger pressed a trigger. The silence was ghastly. 

Ah! a thrill of hope in the breast of the greater Captain, of despairin the heart of the lesser. 

"By God!" muttered Yeovil, "he has lost them!"

The Marquis spurred his horse forward. 

"Your oath! For France! The King! Fire!" he shouted. 

And now a greater voice broke the silence. 

"Comrades! Do you not know me?" said the Emperor. Was there a tremblein his clear, magnificent voice? He paused, his speech stopped. "Behold your General, " he resumed. He waited a few seconds again andthen finally, desperately, "Let any one among you who wishes to killhis Emperor fire--now. "

He raised his voice tremendously with that last word. It almost camewith the force and clearness of a battle-cry. The Marquis satstupefied, his face ghastly pale. 

"There is yet time, " he cried hoarsely at last. "Is there none herefaithful to his King? Fire!"

But the gun-barrels were coming down. "_Comrade! General! Emperor!_"who could be indifferent to that appeal? Disregarding the old Marquisabsolutely, as if he were not on the earth, the Emperor came nearersmiling. He was irresistible to these soldiers when he smiled. 

"Well, " he said, his hands outstretched and open, "soldiers of theFifth, who were with me in Italy, how are you all? I am come back tosee you again, _mes enfants_, " he went on genially. "Is there any oneof you who wishes to kill me?"

"No, no, Sire. Certainly not, " came the cry. 

"Escape, " whispered the Marquis to the Englishman, "while there is yettime to take my niece away. To you I commit her. . . . St. Laurent, to the town with the tidings!"

"By God, no, " growled Yeovil, as St. Laurent saluted and gallopedrapidly down the road. "I am going to see the end of this. The damnedcravens!" he muttered, looking at the soldiers. 

"And yet, " continued Napoleon to the troops, "you presented your gunsat me. "

"Sire, " cried one of the veterans, dropping his musket and running hisramrod down the barrel, "it is not loaded. We only went through themotions. "

The Emperor laughed. He was nearer. 

"Lestoype, " he said, "is it thou, old comrade, and Grenier and Drehon!"

It was astonishing that he should remember them, but so he did. Hewent down the line, speaking to the men, inspecting them just as ofold. The officers could not keep them in line. They crowded abouttheir old leader. Shouts of "_Vive l'Empereur!_" rent the air. Mentook off their caps, tore out the hated white cockades, trampled themunder foot, and from pockets where they had concealed them for thisvery moment, they replaced them with the tricolor. 

In his movements the Emperor at last confronted the Marquis. 

"And who is this?" asked Napoleon, staring up at him curiously. 

The Marquis' heart was broken. It was not in the human power of anyservant of the King to dominate that scene. A greater personality thanhis was there. The Emperor had shown himself as of yore, and exhibitedhis mastery. But no greater ideal possessed any man than that in theheart of the old noble. He hated, he loathed, he abominated the manwho looked up at him. He saw in the action of the soldiery a pictureof the action of France, the downfall of the King. Well, it flashedinto his mind that he at least, and perhaps he alone, might put a stopto it. From his holster he whipped out a pistol and leveled it at theEmperor. Lestoype, riding near, struck up his hand, the bullet spedharmlessly, the Emperor stood unharmed. A roar of rage burst from thesoldiers who came running. Dropping the weapon and reining hisstartled horse violently back, so as to give himself a certain presentand temporary freedom of action, the Marquis drew his other pistol. Lestoype spurred his horse in front of the Emperor, but Napoleon wasnot menaced. 

"Have no fear, " said the Marquis almost gently. "I have failed myKing. The bullet goes into a truer heart--my own, " he added proudly. 

Before any one could stop him there was a flash, a muffled report, thespare figure reeled and fell forward on the saddle. He, at least, after the manner of his house, would not survive a failure which, although he could not prevent it, must inevitably be charged againsthim. 

"A brave man, " said the Emperor coolly, staring at him with his hard, bright, gray eyes. "See that his body is cared for in accordance withhis rank and his courage. But who are these?" he asked, remounting hishorse and facing the two Englishmen, who had dismounted and receivedthe body of the Marquis, stone dead instantly. "As I live, it is theman of law, " he said, his marvelous memory serving him well again, "whowas at the Château d'Aumenier. It only needs Marteau----"

"He is alive, your Majesty, " interposed Lestoype eagerly. "He broughtback our Eagle and is----"

"Where is it, and why is he not with you?"

"The Eagle is in hiding somewhere in Grenoble, Marteau in prison. Hehid it, and because he would not tell where, the Marquis yondercondemned him to death. "

"He has not yet been shot?"

"Not yet, Sire. He waits the return of the regiment. "

"Good, " said the Emperor. "We will surprise him. Face the men about. We shall go on to Grenoble and see what welcome awaits us there. "

He was in high spirits. In this first clash with the troops of KingLouis he found that he exercised the old influence over them and fromthe army, at least, he now realized that he had nothing to fear. 

One of the men who had stood nearest the Emperor back of Cambronne wasan old grenadier. He had recognized the Marquis d'Aumenier, he hadheard the Emperor's conversation and the name of Marteau, and a thrillwent through the heart of old Bal-Arrêt when he learned that hisbeloved officer and friend was yet alive. 

The body of the old Marquis--covered with his cloak, and over his heartthe now discarded royal standard, for which nobody cared since he wasdead--was placed on a farm wagon and escorted back to Grenoble by someof the officers of the regiment and two companies, with reversed arms. He was watched over by the two Englishmen, whom Napoleon freelypermitted to follow their own pleasure in their movements, beingdesirous of not adding fuel to any possible fire of animosity and ofshowing every respect to every Frenchman, whatever his predilection. 

With the Fifth-of-the-Line in the lead, the army moved forward after ahalt for noonday meal. The greatly relieved, happy and confidentEmperor, riding now with the old regiment of Italy in the van, and nowwith the grenadiers in the rear, approached Grenoble late in theafternoon. The short March day was drawing to a close when they camein sight of the heavily garrisoned walls of the town. 

Labédoyère had obeyed orders in some particulars. The ramparts hadbeen manned, the cannon were loaded, torches were blazing on the walls, and the town was awake and seething with excitement. He had declaredfor the Emperor, and after a sharp little conflict had disarmed theroyalist cavalry and himself held the gates. Every regiment that hadcome in had cast its lot in with Napoleon. As the soldiers in the townheard, in the twilight, the beating of the drums--"_La Grenadière_" theold march again!--the Colonel of the Seventh, having seized the fewroyalists, opened the gates, marched out at the head of the troops toreceive the Emperor with arms, yes, but with open arms. Amid theshouts of the citizens and the delirious joy of the soldiery, theEmperor entered the city; in his train, first fruits of the war, wasthe body of the old servant of the unfortunate King. 

It was Pierre who burst into the apartment of the little Countess withthe news. 

"The Emperor is here, mademoiselle, " he cried enthusiastically. "Thesoldiers are bringing him to the palace. "

"And Marteau?"

"He will be free. "

"Thank God!" cried the girl, and then she remembered her uncle. "Andthe Marquis?" she asked. 

"My dearest Laure, " said the kindly, sympathetic voice of Captain FrankYeovil, stepping out of the twilight of the hall into the bright lightof the little drawing-room where last night she had bade farewell toMarteau, "prepare yourself for some dreadful----"

"Yes, yes, I know, " she interrupted. "The Emperor is here. "

"The troops went over to him. "

"And my uncle?"

"He----"

"Speak, monsieur. What has happened? Did the Emperor----"

"No one harmed him. He could not survive the disgrace, mademoiselle. Prepare yourself. "

"Oh, for God's sake, delay not your tidings. "

"He died like a soldier of France on the field, by his own hand ratherthan survive what he wrongfully thought his shame. "

It was the policy of the Emperor to be merciful; it was his wish to beclement. If possible, he wanted peace. If mercy and gentleness couldget it he could have it. He gave free permission to Sir GervaiseYeovil and his son to return to England. He made no objection to theirtaking with them the Countess Laure, now the last of the line. He, himself, was present at the funeral of the Marquis, who was buried withall the military honors of his rank and station. There were generoushearts among those Frenchmen. As the representative of the King theyhad hated him, but when he had died so gallantly rather than survivewhat his nice sensibility believed to be his dishonor, his failure atany rate, they honored him. If he had been a Marshal of France theycould have done no more. 

Marteau, restored to his rank and position as aide to the Emperor, hadbut a few moments with the grief-stricken woman. 

"No, " she said sadly, "it makes no difference. You know my heart. Nowords that I can utter could add anything more to the testimony I havegiven you. But I had promised my uncle, and now that he is dead, thepromise is doubly sacred. I must go. Thank your Emperor for me forall he has done for me, his enemy, and for my friends, and for what hehas done for you. Tell him the story of the Eagle, and the little partin it that I played and--you will not forget me as I will not forgetyou. "

"God grant, " said the young soldier, "that I may die for France on somebattlefield, my last thought of you. "

"Ah, if that should befall you, I should envy you your rest. Would toGod I might look forward to such a quick and happy ending, " said thegrief-stricken woman, turning away. 

The next morning, with great ceremony and much rejoicing, the Eagle wasbrought out, and the Emperor once more presented it to the regiment. He did more than that. He signalized the action of theFifth-of-the-Line, the news of which had been sent broadcast bycouriers and which struck a keynote for the army to follow, byincorporating it as a supplementary Fifth regiment of Grenadiers of theGuard. He promised them a new flag and new bearskins. He promotedLestoype to be a lieutenant-colonel, Labédoyère to be a general, andpromised every veteran officer his old rank or higher in the new armyto be formed. The men were promised bounties and rewards, and, withhigh hopes and glorious anticipations, the march for Paris was begun. 

So by the wayside and in the fields around this little army in thatspringtime, the violets bloomed again. 

BOOK III

THE LAST TRY

CHAPTER XXVIII

AT THE STAMP OF THE EMPEROR'S FOOT

The wonderful genius of Napoleon, which had been so clearly manifested inso many ways during his varied career, was never exhibited to betteradvantage than in the three months after his return from Elba. Duringthat period he reorganized the government, recreated and reëquipped anarmy. The veterans flocked to his standards, and within the timementioned he had actually two hundred and fifty thousand men under arms. 

With the better moiety of this force, the best armed, the best equipped, the best officered contingent, he took the field early in the month ofJune. The Emperor did not want war any more than France did. He beganhis new reign with the most pacific of proclamations, which probablyreflected absolutely the whole desire of his heart. But the patience ofEurope had been exhausted and the belief of rulers and peoples in thehonesty of his professions, declarations or intentions, had beenhopelessly shattered. 

His arrival effected an immediate resurrection of the almost moribundCongress of Vienna. The squabbling, arguing, trifling plenipotentiariesof the powers had burst into gigantic laughter--literally, actualmerriment, albeit of a somewhat grim character!--when they received thenews of Napoleon's return. They were not laughing at Napoleon but atthemselves. They had been dividing the lion's skin in high-flownphrases, which meant nothing, endeavoring to incorporate the Decalogueand the Sermon on the Mount in their protocols and treaties, when theysuddenly discovered that the Emperor was still to be reckoned with. 

Differences were instantly laid aside and forgotten. Russia, Prussia andAustria immediately agreed to put in the field two hundred and fiftythousand men each. The smaller powers, Sweden, Spain, the Low Countries, promised contingents. England once more assumed the familiar role ofpaymaster by immediately placing a vast subsidy at the disposal of theallies. She gave them also what was of more value than a subsidy, asoldier of the first rank to command the armies in the field. 

The Duke of Wellington had never crossed swords with the greatest captainof his day and perhaps of all time. But he had measured himself with theablest and most famous of Napoleon's Marshals. With greatly inferiorforces, through four years of desperate fighting, he had defeated theMarshals and armies of France. The dashing and gallant Junot had beenrouted at Vimiero, Victor had been overwhelmed at Talavera. Wily oldMassena with all his ability could look back to the disaster of theblood-stained hill of Busaco, Marmont, the dainty tactician, had beensmashed at Salamanca, stubborn Jourdan had been at last decisivelydefeated at Victoria. Finally, the brilliant Soult had been hurled outof the Pyrenees and had met his master at Toulouse. Still, great as werethese soldiers and highly trained as they had been in the best ofschools, not one of them was a Napoleon; all of them together were not, for that matter. Would the luster of Wellington's fame, which extendedfrom the Ganges to the Ebro, be tarnished when he met the Emperor? Itwas a foregone conclusion, of course, that Schwarzenberg would commandthe Austrians; Blücher, the "Hussar General, " the hard-fighting, downright old "Marshal Vorwärts, " the Prussians; and the EmperorAlexander, with his veteran captains, the vast horde of Russians. 

To assemble, arm, equip and move two hundred and fifty thousand men was agreat task in those days even for a rich and populous country flushedwith victory and in the enjoyment of an abundance of time and unlimitedmeans. The organizing, it almost might be said the creative, ability ofNapoleon was not shared by his opponents. Try as they would, June foundtheir preparations still woefully incomplete. The Austrians had scarcelymoved at all. The slower Russians, who were farther away and were toconstitute the reserve army, could be discounted from any presentcalculation of the enemies of the Empire. The English and their smallerallies from the Low Countries, and the Prussians, whose hatred of Franceand the Emperor was greater than that of any other nation, were quickerto move. Two hundred and fifteen thousand men, half of them Prussians, athird of the other moiety English, the remaining two-thirds Belgians, Hollanders, and other miscellaneous nationalities, had joined the colorson the northwestern frontier of France. One-half of this joint assemblywas commanded by Blücher and the other half by Wellington. 

Leaving the weaker half of his own great army to complete its equipment, and placing strong detachments in fortress and at strategetic points tooppose the Austrians should they advance, the Emperor, as has been said, with about one hundred and twenty-five thousand men took the field. Naturally, inevitably, Belgium, the immemorial battleground of thenations, and the great English-Prussian army were his objectives. He sawclearly the dangers that encompassed him, the demands he must meet andthe conditions over which he must triumph. 

It was by no means certain, even if he decisively defeated his enemies inBelgium and occupied Brussels, that his trouble would be over. Therewould still be left a possible five hundred thousand trained anddisciplined men with whom he would have to deal, under rulers andgenerals the inveteracy of whose hatreds he could well understand. Butat least his position would be greatly improved by a successfulpreliminary campaign, any success in short, to say nothing of so great aone. If he could show himself once more the inimitable Captain, thethunderbolt of war, the organizer of victory, the Napoleon of other days, the effect upon France, at least, would be electrical. And the worldwould again take notice. 

The Emperor had to admit that, save in the army, there had not been muchresponse from tired-out, exhausted France, to the appeals of its onceirresistible and beloved leader. But the spirit of the army was that ofdevotion itself. There was a kind of a blind madness in it of which menspoke afterward as a phenomenon that could only be recognized, that couldnever be explained or understood. They could not account for it. Yet itwas a powerful factor, the most powerful, indeed, that enabled theEmperor to accomplish so much, and fall short of complete triumph by sonarrow a margin. 

The spirit of this new army was not that burning love of liberty whichhad animated the armies of the early republic and turned itstatterdemalion legions into paladins. It was not the heroic consecrationof the veterans of later years to their native land. It was a strange, mysterious obsession, a personal attachment to Napoleon, theindividual--an unlimited, unbounded tribute to his fascination, to hisown unique personality. It has not died out, and seems destined to live. Even in death Napoleon, after a century, exercises the same fascinationover all sorts and conditions of men! Wise and foolish alike acknowledgehis spell. Men hate, men loathe much of that for which the Corsicanadventurer and soldier of fortune stood; they see clearly and admitfreely the thorough and entire selfishness of the colossal man, but theycannot resist his appeal, even after one hundred years!

Yet in the long run no personal attachment, however deep, however ardent, however complete, can take the place as the inspiration for heroic deedsof that deeper passion of love of country. Nor can any personal devotionto a mere man produce such a steadfastness of character as is broughtabout by adherence to a great cause or a great land. A great passionlike the love of a people for a great country and that for which itstands is eternal. Usually the feet of clay upon which the idol standshave only to be recognized to dissipate the ardor and fervor of theworshipers. But Napoleon was then an exception to all rules. Though heslew men, wasted them, threw them away, they trusted him. We look at himthrough the vista of years and in some way understand his soldiers. Reason to the contrary, we can experience in some degree, at least, evenin the cold-blooded humanitarian materialism of the present, the oldthrill and the old admiration. Did his contemporaries love him becausethey believed he thought in terms of France, we wonder?

So that this body of soldiery was probably the most formidable army inthe quality of its units that had ever been mustered on the globe. Therewas not a man in it who was not a veteran. Some of them were veterans offifteen years of campaigning with Napoleon. This that came was to be thesixtieth pitched battle in which some of them had participated. Even theyounger men had gone through more than one campaign and taken part inmuch hard fighting. Back from the prisons where they had been confinedand the great fortresses they had held until the Emperor's abdication hadcome the veterans. The Old Guard had been reconstituted. As a rewardfor its action at Grenoble, the Fifth-of-the-Line had been incorporatedin it as a supplementary regiment, a second Fifth regiment of Grenadiers. The ranks of the Guard had been most carefully culled, the unserviceablehad been weeded out, their places taken by men well fitted by theirrecord, their physical prowess and their personal appearance to belong tothat famous corps. Not the Immortals of Xerxes, the Spartan Band ofLeonidas, the Companion Cavalry of Alexander, the Carthaginians ofHannibal, the Tenth Legion of Caesar, the Spanish Infantry of Parma, orthe Ironsides of Cromwell, had surpassed the record of these Pretoriansof Imperial France. 

The same weeding-out process had been carried out in the rest of thearmy. The flower of French cavalry, the matchless French artillery andthe famous infantry which had trampled down the world were ranged underthe Eagles. Other corps had been drained for equipment. But in someparticulars the army differed from the Imperial armies of the past. Withtwo exceptions, the great Marshals were not there. Murat, king ofhorsemen and swordsmen, was a prisoner in his ignoble Neapolitan realmawaiting trial and execution. Marmont and Mortier dared not presentthemselves before the Emperor they had betrayed. Wily Massena, thewisest and ablest of them all, was old and in convenient retirement. Macdonald, the incorruptible, was with the fat-bodied, fat-witted BourbonKing in Ghent. Berthier, with his marvelous mastery of detail and hisalmost uncanny ability to translate the Emperor's thoughts even intoorders, had not rejoined the Eagles--a terrible loss, indeed. 

There were but two of the Marshals of old with Napoleon. Soult, in somerespects the acutest strategist and finest tactician, was Chief of Staff. He tried his best to fill Berthier's position and did it acceptably, ifnot with the success of that master. The other Marshal was preëminentlythe battle-leader, red-headed Michael Ney, the fighter of fighters, a manwhose personality was worth an army-corps, whose reputation and influencewith the soldiers was of the very highest. 

The rest of the officers, while veterans, were younger and less-knownmen. Drouet d'Erlon commanded one of the corps; Reille another; Grouchyanother; Druot was the leader of the Guard; Kellerman, Milhaud, Gerardand Maurice the cavalry. It was an army of veterans, officered by youngmen, commanded by the greatest of soldiers. 

But the army had not yet "found itself. " It had no natural coherence andthere had been no time to acquire any. It had not yet been weldedtogether. Officers, men, regiments, brigades, divisions were, more orless, new and strange to one another. There was a vast deal of suspicionin the ranks. The discipline was rather because of past habit thanpresent practice. That army needed a few victories, and badly neededthem. A welding process was required. Given time and success to shakeit together, and it might laugh at the world. 

Would it get time and win victory? That was the question. And if it gotneither, what then? How would it stand up under the strain? Would thetie that bound hold in defeat? Could the rest of the army live up to theGuard, for instance? Yes, that was the grave, the all-important question. 

There was an enormous disparity in numbers between the French army--or itwould better be called Napoleon's army--and that of the allies hepurposed to attack. The allies were to the French in the ratio of abouttwo to one. Whatever else was lacking, Napoleon had not lost hisaudacity, nor when his intentions are disclosed by a study of his plans, can it be argued that his strategic intention was lacking in brilliancyor daring. 

He determined with his smaller but compact and manageable army to thrusthimself between the two wings of the somewhat loosely coherent enemyunder its divided command; to hold off one while he smashed the other andthen to concentrate upon the surviving half and mete out to it the samehard fortune. In other words, trusting to his ability, he deliberatelyplaced his own army between two others, each of which practically equaledhis own. He thrust himself within the jaws of a trap, to use a homelysimile, intending to hold one arm of the trap open while he broke up theother. He intended to burst through the allied line and smash up eachhalf in succession. 

Of course there was always the danger that he could not burst throughthat line; or that he could not hold back one half while he fought theother, or that holding back one half he could not beat the other, orhaving beaten one half he would be too weak to fall on the other. Therewas always the danger that the trap would be sprung, that he would becaught in its jaws or, to change the metaphor, that he would be like thewheat between the upper and the nether millstone. Still he did not thinkso, and he did not go into the undertaking blindly. As he had said, inhis own case, "War was not a conjectural art, " and he had most carefullycounted the cost, estimated the probabilities. In short, he looked wellbefore he leaped--yet a man may look well and leap wrong after all. 

On these considerations he based his grand strategy. The army of thePrussians had approached the French frontier from the east; the army ofthe English and allies from the northwest. Napoleon had a completeknowledge of one of the Captains opposing him. He knew and accuratelyestimated Blücher. He did not know and he did not accurately estimateWellington. He viewed the latter with contempt; the former with acertain amount of disdainful approbation, for while Blücher was nostrategist and less of a tactician, he was a fighter and a fighter isalways dangerous and to be dreaded. Gneisenau, a much more accomplishedsoldier, was Blücher's second in command, but he was a negligible factorin the Emperor's mind. The fact that Wellington had beaten all ofNapoleon's Marshals with whom he had come in contact had intensified theEmperor's hatred. Instead of begetting caution in dealing with him, Napoleon's antagonism had blinded him as to Wellington's ability. 

He also rated the Prussians higher than the English as fighters, and whenhis officers, who had felt the power of the thin red line which had sooften wrecked the French column, explained to him that there were nobetter defensive fighters on earth than the English, not even theRussians, he had laughed them to scorn, attributing their warnings to thefact that they had been beaten in Spain and had grown timid. The Emperordid not purpose to be beaten in France or Belgium by the stolid English. 

In more detail his first plan was to confuse Wellington, who held theright of the allied line, then fall upon him before he had time toconcentrate, and beat him or contain him with a detachment under Ney, while the Emperor in person thereafter put Blücher to rout--and all ofthese things he came very near accomplishing completely. Certainly, hecarried out his plans successfully and to the letter until the final dayof battle. 

He reasoned that if he could beat Blücher and threaten hiscommunications, what was left of the Prussian army, which Napoleon hopedwould not be much, would immediately retreat eastward; and that whenBlücher had been thrown out of the game for the present, he could turn onWellington and his English and allies and make short work of him. It didnot occur to him that even if he beat Blücher and beat Wellington, provided the defeats did not end in utter routs, and they both retreated, they might withdraw on parallel lines and effect a junction later wheneven after the double defeat they would still so greatly outnumber himthat his chances of success would be faint indeed. 

The possibility of their pursuing any other course than that he hadforecast for them never entered his mind. His own conception of theiraction was, in fact, an obsession with him. Yet that which he thoughtthey would do they did not; and that which he was confident they wouldnot do they did!

CHAPTER XXIX

WATERLOO--THE FINAL REVIEW

In a romance like this, in which campaigns and marches, maneuvers andbattles, however decisive they may be in history, are only incidentalto the careers of the characters herein presented to the reader, it isnot necessary for the chronicler to turn himself into a militaryhistorian, much as he would like it. Therefore, in great restraint, hepresses on, promising hereafter only so much history as may serve toshow forth the somber background. 

In this setting of the scene of the great drama to be played, youngMarteau has been necessarily somewhat lost sight of. He was very muchin evidence during that hundred days of feverish and frantic activity. Napoleon had distinguished him highly. He had given him the rank of aColonel of the Guard, but he had still retained him on his staff. Goodand experienced staff-officers were rare, and the Emperor needed all hecould get; he could have used many more than were available. And asMarteau was one of those who were attached to the Emperor by the doublemotive of love of the man and love of his country, believing as he didthat the destiny of the two could not be dissevered, he had served theEmperor most efficiently, with that blind, passionate devotion to dutyby which men give to a cause the best that is in them and whichsometimes leads them to almost inconceivable heights of achievements. 

Suffice it to say that the great strategic conception of Napoleon wascarried out with rather striking success in the first three days of thecampaign. The Emperor, crossing the Sambre, interposed himself betweenWellington and Blücher, completely deceived the Englishman, who thoughthis extreme right was threatened, detached Ney to seize the village ofQuatre Bras, where Wellington had at last decided to concentrate, andwith eighty thousand men fell on the Prussians at Ligny. 

Ney did not seize Quatre Bras; Wellington got there ahead of him andstubbornly held the position. Although Ney had twice the number oftroops at the beginning of the battle that the English Field-Marshalcould muster, they were not well handled and no adequate use was madeof the French preponderance. Napoleon, on the far right of Ney, atLigny, on the contrary, fought the Prussians with his old-time skilland brilliance. The contending forces there were about equal, thePrussians having the advantage in numbers, but victory finally declaredfor the Emperor. It was the last victory, not the least brilliant andnot the least desperately fought of his long career. The importanceand quality of the battle has been lost sight of in the greaterstruggle of Waterloo, which took place two days after, but it was agreat battle, nevertheless. One of the crude ways in which to estimatea battle is by what is called the "butcher's bill" and eighteenthousand dead and wounded Prussians and twelve thousand Frenchmen tellsits tale. But it was not the decisive battle that Napoleon had plannedto make it. 

The Prussians retreated. They had to. But they retreated in goodorder. Blücher having been unhorsed and temporarily incapacitated in acharge, the command and direction of the retreat devolved uponGneisenau. His chief claim to military distinction lies in the factthat he did not do what Napoleon expected, and what Blücher would havedone. He retreated to the north instead of the east! A pursuit waslaunched, but it did not pursue the Prussians. It went off, as itwere, into thin air. It pursued Napoleon's idea, his forecast, whichowing to the accident to Blücher was wrong!

One reason why the victory of Ligny and the drawn battle at Quatre Braswere not decisive was because of a strange lack of generalship and astrange confusion of orders for which Napoleon and Ney are bothresponsible. Ney was constructively a victor at Quatre Bras, finally. That is, the English retreated at nightfall and abandoned the field tohim; but they retreated not because they were beaten but becauseWellington, finding his position could be bettered by retirement andconcentration, decided upon withdrawal. But Ney could have been thevictor in every sense, in spite of his indifferent tactics, if it hadnot been for the same blunder that the Emperor committed. 

D'Erlon, at the head of perhaps the finest corps in the army, numberingtwenty thousand men, through the long hours of that hot June daymarched from the vicinity of Quatre Bras to Ligny, whence he couldactually see the battle raging, only to be summoned back from Ligny toQuatre Bras by orders from Ney. Retracing his course, therefore, hemarched back over the route he had just traversed, arriving at QuatreBras too late to be of any service to Ney! Like the famous King ofFrance who with twenty thousand men marched up the hill and thenmarched down again, this splendid corps which, thrown into eitherbattle, would have turned the Prussian retreat into a rout on the onehand, or have utterly cut to pieces Wellington on the other, didnothing. The principal fault was Napoleon's. He saw d'Erlon's corpsapproaching, but he sent no order and took no steps to put it into thebattle. 

Well, in spite of the fact that the energies of d'Erlon had been spentin marching instead of fighting, the Emperor was a happy man thatnight. He had got himself safely placed between the two armies and hehad certainly severely if not decisively beaten one of them. Strategically, his operations had been characterized by unusualbrilliancy. If things went as he hoped, surmised and confidentlyexpected, all would be well. He was absolutely sure that Blücher wasretiring to the east, toward Namur. He dispatched Grouchy withthirty-five thousand of his best men to pursue him in the directionwhich he supposed he had taken. 

Napoleon's orders were positive, and he was accustomed to exactimplicit obedience from his subordinates. He had a habit ofdiscouraging independent action in the sternest of ways, and for theelimination of this great force from the subsequent battle the Emperorhimself must accept the larger responsibility. But all this does notexcuse Grouchy. He carried out his orders faithfully, to be sure, buta more enterprising and more independent commander would have soonerdiscovered that he was pursuing stragglers and would earlier have takenthe right course to regain his touch with his chief and to harry thePrussian Field-Marshal. He did turn to the north at last, but when thegreat battle was joined he was miles away and of no more use than if hehad been in Egypt. His attack on the Prussian rear-guard at Wavre, while it brought about a smart little battle with much hard and gallantfighting, really amounted to nothing and had absolutely no bearing onthe settlement of the main issue elsewhere. He did not disobey orders, but many a man has gained immortality and fame by doing that verything. Grouchy had his chance and failed to improve it. He was aveteran and a successful soldier, too. 

Comes the day of Waterloo. Blücher had retreated north to Wavre andwas within supporting distance of Wellington. His army had been beatenbut not crushed, its spirit was not abated. The old Prussian Marshal, badly bruised and shaken from being unhorsed and overridden in acavalry charge in which he had joined like a common trooper, buthimself again, promised in a famous interview between the two to cometo the support of the younger English Marshal, should he be attacked, with his whole army. Wellington had retreated as far as he intendedto. He established his headquarters on a hill called Mont St. Jean, back of a ridge near a village called Waterloo, where his armycommanded the junction point of the highroads to the south and west. He drew up his lines, his red-coated countrymen and his blue-coatedallies on the long ridge in front of Mont St. Jean, facing south, overlooking a gently sloping valley which was bounded by other parallelridges about a mile away. On the right center of Wellington's lines, ashort distance below the crest of the ridge, embowered in trees, lay aseries of stone buildings, in extent and importance between a châteauand a farmhouse, called Hougomont. These were surrounded by a stonewall and the place was impregnable against everything but artillery ifit were properly manned and resolutely held. Both those conditionswere met that day. Opposite the left center of the Duke's line wasanother strong place, a farmhouse consisting of a series of stonebuildings on three sides of a square, the fourth closed by a wall, called La Haye Sainte. These outposts were of the utmost value, rightly used. 

The Duke had sixty-seven thousand men and one hundred and eighty guns. His right had been strengthened at the expense of his left, because heexpected Napoleon to attack the right and he counted on Blücher'sarrival to support his left. To meet him Napoleon had seventy-fivethousand men and two hundred and sixty guns. Off to the northeast layBlücher at Wavre with nearly eighty thousand more men and two hundredguns, and wandering around in the outer darkness was Grouchy withthirty-five thousand. 

The valley was highly cultivated. The ripening grain still stood inthe fallow fields separated by low hedges. Broad roads ran through thevalley in different directions. The weather was horrible. It rainedtorrents during the night and the earlier part of the morning. Thefields were turned into quagmires, the roads into morasses. It was hotand close. The humidity was great. Little air was stirring. Throughout the day the mist hung heavy over the valley and the ridgeswhich bordered it. But the rain ceased in the morning and Napoleonmade no attack until afternoon, waiting for the ground to dry outsomewhat. It was more important to him that his soldiers should havegood footing than to the English, for the offensive, the attack, thecharge fell to him. Wellington determined to fight strictly on thedefensive. Nevertheless, precious hours were wasted. Every passingmoment brought some accession to the allied army, and every passinghour brought Blücher nearer. With all the impetuosity of his soul, theold man was urging his soldiers forward over the horrible roads. 

"Boys, " he said in his rough, homely way to some bitterly complainingartillerists stalled in the mud, "I promised. You would not have mebreak my word, would you?"

Grouchy meanwhile had at last determined that the Prussians had gonethe other way. He had learned that they were at Wavre and he had swungabout and was coming north. Of course, he should have marched towardthe sound of the cannon--generally the safest guide for asoldier!--but, at any rate, he was trying to get into touch with theenemy. No one can question his personal courage or his loyalty to hiscause. 

Napoleon, when he should have been on the alert, was very drowsy anddull that day at Waterloo. He had shown himself a miracle of physicalstrength and endurance in that wonderful four days of campaigning andfighting, but the soldiers passing by the farmhouse of La BelleAlliance--singular name which referred so prophetically to theenemy--sometimes saw him sitting on a chair by a table outside thehouse, his feet resting on a bundle of straw to keep them from the wetground, nodding, asleep! And no wonder. It is doubtful if he hadenjoyed as much as eight hours of sleep since he crossed the Sambre, and those not consecutive! Still, if ever he should have kept awake, that eighteenth of June was the day of days!

So far as one can discern his intention, his battle plan had been tofeint at Hougomont on the right center, cause the Duke of Wellington toweaken his line to support the château, and then to break through theleft center and crush him by one of those massed attacks underartillery fire for which he had become famous. The line once broken, the end, of course, would be more or less certain. 

The difference in the temperaments of the two great Captains was wellillustrated before the battle was joined. The Duke mainly concealedhis men behind the ridge. All that the French saw when they came onthe field were guns, officers and a few men. The English-Belgian armywas making no parade. What the British and Flemish saw was verydifferent. The Emperor displayed his full hand. The French, whoappeared not to have been disorganized at all by the hard fighting atLigny and Quatre Bras, came into view in most splendid style; bandsplaying, drums rolling, swords waving, bayonets shining even in thedull air of the wretched morning. They came on the field in solidcolumns, deployed and took their positions, out of cannon-shot range, of course, in the most deliberate manner. The uniforms of the armywere brand-new, and it was the fashion to fight in one's best in thosedays. They presented a magnificent spectacle. 

Presently the Duke, his staff, the gunners and the others who were onthe top of the ridge and watching, saw a body of horsemen galloprapidly along the French lines. One gray-coated figure riding a whitehorse was in advance of the rest. The cheers, the almost deliriousshouts and cries, told the watchers that it was the Emperor. It washis last grand review, his last moment of triumph. 

It was after one o'clock before the actual battle began. More bookshave been written about that battle than any other that was everfought. One is tempted to say, almost than all others that were everfought. And the closest reasoners arrive at different conclusions anddisagree as to many vital and important details. The Duke ofWellington himself left two accounts, one in his dispatches and one innotes written long afterward, which were irreconcilable, but somethings are certain, upon some things all historians are agreed. 

The battle began with an attack on the Hougomont Château and theconflict actually raged around that château for over six hours, oruntil the French were in retreat. Macdonell, Home and Saltoun, Scotsmen all, with their regiments of the Household Guard, held thatchâteau, although it was assailed over and over again, finally, by thewhole of Reille's corps. They held that château, although it burnedover their heads, although the French actually broke into it onoccasion. They held it, although every other man in it was shot downand scarcely a survivor was without a wound. It was assaulted with afury and a resolution which was only matched by the fury and resolutionof its defense. Why it was not battered to pieces with artillery noone knows. At any rate, it occupied practically the whole of Reille'scorps during the whole long afternoon of fighting. 

The space between Hougomont and La Haye Sainte was about a thousandyards. La Haye Sainte was assaulted also but, to anticipate events, itheld out until about five o'clock in the evening, when, after anotherwonderful defense, it was carried. The French established themselvesin it eighty yards from Wellington's line. 

CHAPTER XXX

WATERLOO--THE CHARGE OF D'ERLON

Meanwhile the French had not confined their efforts to the isolatedforts, if they may be so called, on Wellington's center and leftcenter. After a tremendous artillery duel d'Erlon's men had beenformed up for that massed attack for which the Emperor was famous, andwith which it was expected the English line would be pierced and theissue decided. The Emperor, as has been noted, had intended the attackon Hougomont as a mere feint, hoping to induce the Duke of Wellingtonto reinforce his threatened right and thereby to weaken his leftcenter. It was no part of the Emperor's plan that an attempt tocapture Hougomont should become the main battle on his own left that ithad, nor could he be sure that even the tremendous attack upon it hadproduced the effect at which he aimed. Nevertheless, the movement ofd'Erlon had to be tried. 

It must be remembered that Napoleon had never passed through theintermediate army grades. He had been jumped from a regimental officerto a General. He had never handled a regiment, a brigade, a division, a corps--only an army, or armies. Perhaps that was one reason why hewas accustomed to leaving details and the execution of his plans tosubordinates. He was the greatest of strategists and the ablest oftacticians, but minor tactics did not interest him, and the arrangementof this great assault he left to the corps and its commander. 

Giving orders to Ney and d'Erlon, therefore, the Emperor at lastlaunched his grand attack. One hundred and twenty guns wereconcentrated on that part of the English left beyond the westernmost ofthe two outlying positions, through which it was determined to force away. Under cover of the smoke, which all day hung thick and heavy inthe valley and clung to the ridges, d'Erlon's splendid corps, which hadbeen so wasted between Quatre Bras and Ligny, and which was burning toachieve something, was formed in four huge parallel close-rankedcolumns, slightly écheloned under Donzelot, Marcognet, Durutte andAllix. With greatly mistaken judgment, these four columns were crowdedclose together. The disposition was a very bad one. In the firstplace, their freedom of movement was so impaired by lack of properdistance as to render deployment almost impossible. Unless the columnscould preserve their solid formation until the very point of contact, the charge would be a fruitless one. In the second place, they made anenormous target impossible to miss. The attack was supported by lightbatteries of artillery and the cavalry in the flanks. 

Other things being equal, the quality of soldiers being the same, thecolumn is at an obvious disadvantage when attacking the line. It wasso in this instance. Although it was magnificently led by Ney andd'Erlon in person, and although it comprised troops of the highestorder, the division commanders being men of superb courage andresolution, no valor, no determination could make up for thesedisadvantages. The tremendous artillery-fire of the French, which didgreat execution among the English, kept them down until the darkcolumns of infantry mounting the ridge got in the way of the Frenchguns which, of course, ceased to fire. 

The drums were rolling madly, the Frenchmen were cheering loudly whenthe ridge was suddenly covered with long red lines. There were notmany blue-coated allies left. Many of them had already laid down theirlives; of the survivors more were exhausted by the fierce battling ofthe preceding days when the Belgians had nobly sustained the fightingtraditions of a race to which nearly two thousand years before Caesarhimself had borne testimony. As a matter of fact, most of the allieswere moved to the rear. They did not leave the field. They wereformed up again back of the battle line to constitute the reserve. TheEnglish did not intend to flee either. They were not accustomed to itand they saw no reason for doing it now. 

Wellington moved the heavy cavalry over to support the threatened pointof the line and bade his soldiers restrain their fire. There wassomething ominous in the silent, steady, rock-like red wall. It wasmuch more threatening to the mercuric Gallic spirit than the shoutingof the French was to the unemotional English disposition. Still, theycame intrepidly on. 

Meanwhile, renewed attacks were hurled against the château and thefarmhouse. Ney and d'Erlon had determined to break the English linewith the bayonet. Suddenly, when the French came within point-blankrange, the English awoke to action. The English guns hurled shot intothe close-ranked masses, each discharge doing frightful execution. Ney's horse was shot from under him at the first fire. But theunwounded Marshal scrambled to his feet and, mounting another horse, pressed on. 

The slow-moving ranks were nearer. At point-blank range the Englishinfantrymen now opened fire. Shattering discharges were poured uponthe French. The fronts of the divisions were obliterated. The men inadvance who survived would have given back, but the pressure of themasses in their rear forced them to go on. The divisions actuallybroke into a run. Again and again the British battalions spoke, theblack muskets in the hands of the red coats were tipped with redderflame. It was not in human flesh and blood to sustain very long such afire. 

It was a magnificent charge, gloriously delivered, and such was itsmomentum that it almost came in touch with the English line. It didnot quite. That momentum was spent at last. The French deployed aswell as they could in the crowded space and at half-pistol-shotdistance began to return the English fire. The French guns joined inthe infernal tumult. The advance had been stopped, but it had not beendriven back. The French cavalry were now coming up. Before theyarrived that issue had to be decided. The critical moment was at hand, and Wellington's superb judgment determined the action. He let looseon them the heavy cavalry, led by the Scots Grays on their big horses. As the ranks of the infantry opened to give them room, the men of theNinety-second Highlanders, mad with the enthusiasm of the moment, caught the stirrup-straps of the Horse and, half running, half dragged, joined in the charge. 

The splendid body of heavy cavalry fell on the flank of the haltedcolumns. There was no time for the French to form a square. Nay more, there was no room for them to form a square. In an instant, however, they faced about and delivered a volley which did great execution, butnothing could stop the maddened rush of the gigantic horsemen. Back onthe heights of Rossomme Napoleon, aroused from his lethargy at last, stared at the great attack. 

"_Mon Dieu!_" he exclaimed as he saw the tremendous onfall of thecavalrymen upon his helpless infantry, "how terrible are those grayhorsemen!"

Yes, they were more terrible to the men at the point of contact thanthey were to those back of La Belle Alliance. No infantry that everlived in the position in which the French found themselves could havestood up against such a charge as that. Trampling, hacking, slashing, thrusting, the horses biting and fighting like the men, the heavycavalry broke up two of the columns. The second and third began toretreat under an awful fire. But the dash of the British troopers wasspent. They had become separated, disorganized. They had lostcoherence. The French cavalry now arrived on the scene. Admirablyhandled, they were thrown on the scattered English. There was nothingfor the latter to do but retire. Retire they did, having accomplishedall that anyone could expect of cavalry, fighting every step of theway. Just as soon as they opened the fronts of the regiments' in line, the infantry and artillery began again, and then the French cavalry gotits punishment in its turn. 

It takes but moments to tell of this charge and, indeed, in thebattlefield it seemed but a few moments. But the French did not giveway until after long hard fighting. From the beginning of thepreliminary artillery-duel to the repulse of the charge an hour and ahalf elapsed. Indeed, they did not give way altogether either, forDonzelot and Allix, who commanded the left divisions, were the men whofinally succeeded in capturing La Haye Sainte. And both sides sufferedfuriously before the French gave back. 

There was plenty of fight left in the French yet. Ney, whatever hisstrategy and tactics, showed himself as of yore the bravest of thebrave. It is quite safe to say that the hero of the retreat fromRussia, the last of the Grand Army, the star of many a hotly contestedbattle, surpassed even his own glorious record for personal courage onthat day. Maddened by the repulse, he gathered up all the cavalry, twelve thousand in number, and with Kellerman, greatest of cavalrymen, to second him and with division leaders like Milhaud and Maurice, hehurled himself upon the English line between Hougomont and La HayeSainte. But the English made no tactical mistakes like that of Ney andd'Erlon. The artillerists stood to their guns until the torrent ofFrench horsemen was about to break upon them, then they ran back to thesafety of the nearest English square. 

The English had been put in such formation that the squares laycheckerwise. Each side was four men deep. The front rank knelt, thesecond rank bent over at a charge bayonets, the third and the fourthranks stood erect and fired. The French horsemen might have enduredthe tempest of bullets but they could not ride down the _chevaux defrise_, the fringe of steel. They tried it. No one could find faultwith that army. It was doing its best; it was fighting and dying forits Emperor. Over and over they sought to break those stubborn Britishsquares. One or two of them were actually penetrated, but unavailingly. 

Men mad with battle-lust threw themselves and their horses upon thebayonets. The guns were captured and recaptured. The horsemen overranthe ridge, they got behind the squares, they counter-charged over theirown tracks, they rode until the breasts of the horses touched the guns. They fired pistols in the face of the English. One such charge isenough to immortalize its makers, and during that afternoon they madetwelve!

Ney, raging over the field, had five horses killed under him. TheBritish suffered horribly. If the horsemen did draw off to takebreath, and reform for another effort, the French batteries, theEnglish squares presenting easy targets, sent ball after ball throughthem. And nobody stopped fighting to watch the cavalry. Far and widethe battle raged. Toward the close of the day some of the Englishsquares had become so torn to pieces that regiments, brigades anddivisions had to be combined to keep from being overwhelmed. 

Still the fight raged around Hougomont. Now, from a source ofstrength, La Haye Sainte had become a menace. There the Englishattacked and the French held. Off to the northeast the country wasblack with advancing masses of men. No, it was not Grouchy and histhirty-five thousand who, if they had been there at the beginning, might have decided the day. It was the Prussians. 

They, at least, had marched to the sound of the cannon. Grouchy wasoff at Wavre. He at last got in touch with one of Blücher's rear corpsand he was fighting a smart little battle ten miles from the placewhere the main issue was to be decided. As a diversion, his effortswere negligible, for without that corps the allies outnumbered theFrench two to one. 

Telling the troops that the oncoming soldiers were their comrades ofGrouchy's command who would decide the battle, Napoleon detached thegallant Lobau, who had stood like a stone wall at Aspern, with theYoung Guard to seize the village of Planchenoit and to hold thePrussians back, for if they broke in the end would be as certain as itwas swift. And well did Lobau with the Young Guard perform that task. Bülow, commanding the leading corps, hurled himself again and againupon the French line. His heavy columns fared exactly as the Frenchcolumns had fared when they assaulted the English. But it was notwithin the power of ten thousand men to hold off thirty thousandforever, and there were soon that number of Prussians at the point ofcontact. Frantic messages from Lobau caused the Emperor to send one ofthe divisions of the Old Guard, the last reserve, to his support. 

It was now after six o'clock, the declining sun was already low on thehorizon, the long June day was drawing to a close. The main force ofthe Prussians had not yet come up to the hill and ridge of Mont St. Jean. Wellington, in great anxiety, was clinging desperately to theridge with his shattered lines wondering how long he could hold them, whether he could sustain another of those awful attacks. His reserves, except two divisions of light cavalry, Vivian's and Vandeleur's, andMaitland's and Adams' brigades headed by Colborne's famous Fifty-secondFoot, among his troops the de luxe veterans of the Peninsula, had allbeen expended. 

Lobau was still holding back the Prussians by the most prodigious andastounding efforts. If Napoleon succeeded in his last titanic effortto break that English line, Blücher would be too late. Unless night orBlücher came quickly, if Napoleon made that attack and it was notdriven back, victory in this struggle of the war gods would finally goto the French. 

Hougomont still held out. The stubborn defense of it was Wellington'ssalvation. While it stood his right was more or less protected. ButLa Haye Sainte offered a convenient point of attack upon him. IfNapoleon brought up his remaining troops behind it they would only havea short distance to go before they were at death's grapple hand to handwith the shattered, exhausted, but indomitable defenders of the ridge. 

CHAPTER XXXI

WATERLOO--THE LAST OF THE GUARD

Long and earnestly, one from the heights of Mont St. Jean, the otherfrom those of Rossomme, the two great Captains scanned the opposingline. Napoleon seemed to have recovered from his indisposition. Indeed, he had undergone frightful fatigues which would have beenincredible if sustained by a younger man, and which would have beenimpossible to any other man than he. To add to his fatigue, he wasill. He could not sleep and the nature of his illness was such that itwas agony for him to mount a horse. This condition had been aggravatedby the awful exertion, physical and mental, he had made and the strainof that long afternoon of desperate fighting. Nor had he eatenanything the livelong day. Yet at about half after six that night hedid get into the saddle again. Conquering his anguish, he rode down tothe fifteen battalions of the Guard still held in reserve at La BelleAlliance, all that was left intact of that proud and gallant army. 

"My children, " he said hoarsely in last appeal, "I must sleep inBrussels to-night. There is the enemy. Go and break the English linefor me. "

Cambronne, to whom nature and education alike had denied everyattribute of grace or greatness except unbounded devotion and stubborncourage, mustered the Guard. Ney, _le terrible Rougeaud_, thesoldiers' idol, his torn uniform covered with dust, one of his epauletsslashed from his shoulder, his coat open, his shirt likewise, his baredbreast black with powder, his face red-streaked with blood, for manybullets had grazed him, his hair matted with sweat--the weather hadgrown frightfully hot, the air was terribly humid--his eyes blazing, flecks of foam about his mouth, placed himself in the lead. Everystaff officer left joined the great Marshal. 

With the brass drums beating "_La Grenadière_, " that famous grenadierquick-step, the great Guard moved out. Here, again, in the excitementof the conflict, an opportunity was overlooked. They could have goneup in rear of La Haye Sainte with practically no danger, but they wentstraight out into the open, between farm and château. Up the road, over the fields of bloody grain, through the torn hedges, tramplingover the bodies of their comrades, the last hope advanced to meet theenemy. 

All over the field the tide of battle ebbed and flowed. The armiescame together for the last try. Off to the right Lobau still held hisappointed station, but now the Prussians in great masses were swarmingon the field about Planchenoit. Division after division, avoidingLobau meanwhile, mounted the ridge to join the English line. It hadalmost been broken by d'Erlon at La Haye Sainte. Mouffling, Wellington's Prussian aide, had galloped over to Ziethen in command ofthe advance with the news that unless the English were reinforcedheavily at once their line would be pierced and they would be routed. On to the field opposite La Haye Sainte came the Prussians. Stillraged the battle around Hougomont and the English right, but the eyesof every spectator not engaged in fighting for his life wereconcentrated on the advance of the Guard. 

Napoleon had ridden down from Rossomme to La Belle Alliance. He sathis horse within easy cannon-shot of the English as the devoted Guardpassed by in its last review. His physical pain was forgot in thegreat anxiety with which he watched them. The battle was practicallylost. This was the last desperate throw of the gambler, the last stakehe could place upon the board. He knew it, every officer knew it, perhaps even the more experienced grenadiers like old Bullet-Stopper ofthe Guard knew it. That did not matter to them. They were his men andat his word, for him, they were going forward to conquer or die. 

Tramp, tramp, tramp, keeping time to the long continuous rolling of thedrums whose notes were heard even above the roar of the cannon and thetumult of the battle, the Guard, from whose lips came one continuouscry of "_Vive l'Empereur_!" marched forward. Covered as usual by thefire of one of those great batteries of concentrated guns soconspicuous in Napoleonic tactics, through the smoke and the mist andthe shadows of the evening, they passed on. Napoleon himself withthree battalions in reserve followed a little distance behind them. 

Now they were mounting the hill, now they were abreast of La HayeSainte; now the ridge in front of them was topped with English. Awayoff could be heard the thunder of the oncoming Prussian horsemen, theroar of the Prussian guns. Back of the ridge the brigades of lightcavalry stood ready. The infantry reserve with brave Colborne and theFifty-second, thirteen hundred strong, in the lead, were quivering withexcitement. Even the stolid British phlegm had vanished. This was thelast supreme moment. Throbbed wildly the usually steady hearts of thecool islanders. If they could stop this grand advance the battle wouldbe gained. The hill would be held. Could they do it? And if not----!

Out of the smoke and mist opposite the English soldiers of the RoyalGuard came their Imperial enemies. The waiting British saw the blackbearskins of the tall Guard, the imperial insignia on cross-belts anduniforms. They were so near that they could see the grim faces of theold soldiers, their mustaches working, their lips drawn back over theirteeth, snarling, sputtering like savage beasts. Here and there mouthswere tight shut in a firm line. Here and there men came silently, butmostly they were yelling. And they came up, arms aport, after theprecept and example of Dorsenne, _le beau Dorsenne_, alas, no longerwith them, to try conclusions for the last time with the soldiers'white weapon, the bayonet, cold steel! Would the English wait forthat? They would not. 

"Fire!" cried an English voice just when the suspense had becomeunbearable. 

The heavens were shattered by the discharge. Ney pitched from hishorse, the sixth that day to be shot under him. He was up in a moment, his sword out. He advanced on foot at the head of the Guard. It washis last charge. He was to face muskets again, but in Paris, in thehands of a firing-squad, with his back to the wall. He was not giventhe coveted privilege of dying on that stricken field, though he soughtfor it wildly everywhere, but when he did die it was as he had lived, undaunted. Now, his great voice uplifted, he led forward the devotedand immortal band. His sword was shot out of his hand. Seizing a gunand a bayonet from a falling grenadier, he fought in the ranks as inRussia. 

Again, the tactics were faulty, as d'Erlon's men the Guard came insolid columns. Right in front of the rapid-firing English, the musketsand cannon in one continuous roar now, they sought to deploy and returnthat terrible withering fire. The Prussian infantry, panting likedogs, now gained the crest of the ridge and, animated by more thanhuman hatred, fell into disorderly but determined lines and openedfire. Harsh German oaths and exclamations mingled with hearty Englishcurses and cheers. The Guard was firing rapidly now, straight into thefaces of the English. And still the columns came on. Like a greatwave which rushes forward at first swiftly and then goes slower andslower and slower as it rolls up the beach it advanced. By and by itstopped. The end was at hand. With bent heads the men stood and tookthe hail of lead and iron. 

"Come!" said Ney, frantic with battle fever. "Come! See how a Marshalof France can die. "

Now was the crucial moment. The Iron Duke saw it. The two armies wereface to face firing into each other. To which side would the victoryincline? He spoke to Maitland, to Adams, to Colborne. That gallantsoldier threw his men on the exposed flank of the column which hadobliqued, bent to the right. Before they could face about out of thesmoke came the yelling English! They found the men on the flank of thecolumn the next morning just where it had stood lying in ordered ranksdead. 

Still they did not give back. Vivian and Vandeleur, daring lighthorsemen, were now hurled on the devoted division. At it they ran. Onit they fell. Still it stood. It was incredible. It was almostsurrounded now. The attack had failed. To advance was impossible, toretreat was dishonor. They would stand! Their case was hopeless. Appeals were made for the survivors to lay down their arms andsurrender. Into the faces of the assailants vulgar but heroicCambronne hurled a disgusting but graphic word. No, nobody said so, but the Guard would not surrender. It would die. 

Back of his Guard, the Emperor, having stopped not far from thechâteau, watched them die. He was paler than ever, sweat poured fromhis face, his eyes and lips twitched nervously and spasms of physicalpain added their torture to the mental agony of the moment. Hemuttered again and again:

"_Mon Dieu! Mais ils sont mêlés ensemble. _"

Now the Prussian horsemen, the Death-head Hussars, added their weightto Vandeleur's and Vivian's swordsmen and lancers. Other regimentssupplemented the withering fire of the advancing Fifty-second and thereserve brigades. Now, at last, the Guard began to give back. Slowly, reluctantly, clinging to their positions, fighting, firing, savage, mad--they began to give way. 

"_Tout est perdu_, " whispered Napoleon. 

"The Guard retreats!" cried someone near the Emperor. 

"_La Garde recule_!" rose here and there from the battlefield. "_LaGarde recule_!" Men caught up the cry in wonder and despair. Could itbe true? Yes. Back they came out of the smoke. Now was the supremeopportunity for the allies. The Duke, recklessly exposing himself onthe crest of the hill, bullets flying about him, as they flew aboutNapoleon, yet leading apparently a charmed life, closed his field-glassand turned to the red line that had made good its defense. 

"Up!" he cried, waving his hand and not finishing his sentence. 

They needed no other signal. Their time to attack had come. Down thehill they rushed, yelling, followed by Belgians, Netherlanders, and allthe rest, pressing hard upon their heels. La Haye Sainte wasrecaptured in the twinkling of an eye. The shattered broken remains ofthe Guard were driven in headlong rout. The assailers of Hougomontwere themselves assaulted. At last numbers had overwhelmed Lobau. Thesurvivors of an army of a hundred and thirty thousand flushed withvictory fell on the survivors of an army of seventy thousand alreadydefeated. 

At half-past seven the battle was lost. At eight the withdrawal becamea retreat, the retreat a rout. At set of sun lost was the Emperor, lost was the Empire. Ended was the age-long struggle which had begunwith the fall of the Bastile more than a score of years before. Onceagain from France, with the downfall of Napoleon, had been snatched thehegemony of the world. 

There was no reserve. There was nothing to cover a retreat. Someoneraised the wild cry not often heard on battlefields overlooked byNapoleon, and it was echoed everywhere:

"_Sauve qui peut. _"

The army as an army was gone. Thousands of men in mad terror fled inevery direction. Still, there were left a few battalions of the Guardwhich had not been in action. They formed three squares to receive theEnglish and Prussians. Into the nearest square Napoleon, bewildered, overwhelmed, stricken by the catastrophe, was led on his horse. Hissword was out. He would fain have died on that field. Doubtless, manya bullet marked him, but none struck him. For a little while thesesquares of the Guard, Napoleon in the center one, another square oneither side of the center one, stayed the British and Prussian advance, but it was not to be. "The stars in their courses fought againstSisera!" The Emperor gave no order. Bertrand and Soult turned hishorse about and the squares retreated. 

It was night. They were the sole organized body left. Well, theyupheld their ancient fame and glorious reputation and untarnishedhonor. Through the calm and moonlit night pursuers and pursued couldhear the rolling of the brass drums far and wide over the countrysideas the Guard marched away from that field back to stricken France, tothat famous grenadier march, "_La Grenadière. _"

Again and again they stopped to beat off the furious attack of thecavalry. Again and again the Prussian pursuers hurled themselvesunavailingly on quadrangles of steel, worked up to a terrible pitch ofexcitement by the possibility that they might seize the Emperor atwhose behest and for whose purpose fifty thousand men lay dead orwounded on that fatal hill, in that dreadful valley. Happy the fate ofthose who were dead--horrible the condition of those who were wounded. English, Prussians, Germans, Bavarians, Hollanders, French, trampledtogether in indistinguishable masses. Horses, guns, weapons, equipment--everything in hopeless confusion. Every horror, everyanguish, every agony was there--incense burned about the altar of onedevouring ambition. 

CHAPTER XXXII

AT LAST THE EAGLE AND THE WOMAN

Nearest the crest of the hill immortalized by the great conflict, inadvance of but in touch with the regular dead lines of the Guard, alittle group, friend and foe, lay intermingled. There was a youngofficer of the Fifty-second infantry, one of Colborne's. He wasconscious but suffering frightfully from mortal wounds. One side ofhis face where he had been thrown into the mud was covered with a redcompound of earth and blood; his bright head was dabbled with the samehideous mixture. Blood frothed out of his mouth as he breathed. Hemurmured from time to time a woman's name. "Water, " was sometimes thesputtering syllable that came from him. 

His left hand clutched uneasily at his breast, where his torn uniformshowed a gaping wound. But his right hand was still. The arm wasbroken, paralyzed, but the fingers of his right hand were tightlyclosed around a broken blue staff and next to his cheek, theblood-stained one, and cold against it, was a French Eagle. He hadseized that staff in the heat of battle and in the article of death heheld it. 

At the feet of the English officer lay a French officer wearing theinsignia of a Colonel of the Guard. He was covered with wounds, bayonet thrusts, a saber-slash, and was delirious. Although helpless, he was really in much better case than the young Englishman. He, too, in his delirium muttered a woman's name. 

They spoke different tongues, these two. They were born in differentlands. They were children of the same God, although one might havedoubted it, but no one could mistake the woman's name. For there FrankYeovil and Jean Marteau, incapable of doing each other any furtherharm, each thought of the same woman. 

Did Laure d'Aumenier back in England waiting anxiously for news ofbattle, fearing for one of those men, hear those piteous, brokenmurmurs of a woman's name--her own?

Around these two were piled the dead. Marteau had seized the Eagle. Yes, he and a few brave men had stayed on the field when the great Ney, raging like a madman, and seeking in vain the happy fortune of a bulletor sword-thrust, had been swept away, and on him had fallen Yeovil withanother group of resolute English, and together they had fought theirlittle battle for the Eagle. And Marteau had proved the Englishman'smaster. He had beaten him down. He had shortened his sword to strikewhen he recognized him. Well, the battle was over, the Eagle was lost, the Emperor was a fugitive, hope died with the retreating Guard, theEmpire was ended. Marteau might have killed him, but to what end?

"For your wife's sake, " he cried, lowering his sword, and the nextminute he paid for his mercy, for the other English threw themselvesupon him. 

But Frank Yeovil did not get off scot free. There was one lad who hadfollowed Marteau, who had marched with the Guard, who had nocompunctions of conscience whatever, and with his last pistol Pierregave the reeling Englishman the fatal shot. Yes, Pierre paid too. They would certainly have spared him, since he was only a boy, butmaddened by the death of their officer, half a dozen bayonets wereplunged into his breast. 

Thither the next day came Sir Gervaise Yeovil, who had been with theDuke at the Duchess of Richmond's famous ball in Brussels. Young Frankhad left that ball at four o'clock in the morning, according to order, only to find that later orders had directed the army to march at twoand that his baggage had gone. He had fought that day in pumps andsilk stockings which he had worn at the ball; dabbled, gory, muddy, they were now. 

Sir Gervaise Yeovil was an old friend of the Duke of Wellington. TheIron Duke, as they called him, was nevertheless very tender-heartedthat morning. He told the Baronet that his son was somewhere on thefield. Colonel Colborne of the Fifty-second had marked him in thecharge, but that was all. Neither Vivian nor Vandeleur could throw anylight on the situation. There were twenty thousand of the alliedarmies on that field and thirty thousand French. 

"My God, " said Sir Gervaise, staring along the line of the Frenchretreat, "what is so terrible as a defeat?"

"Nothing, " said the Duke gravely. Then looking at the nearer hillsidehe added those tremendous words which epitomized war in a way in whichno one save a great modern captain has ever epitomized it. "Nothing, "he said slowly, "unless it be a victory. "

They found the Guard. That was easy. There they lay in lines wherethey had fallen; the tall bearskins on their heads, the muskets stillclasped in their hands. There, too, they found young Yeovil at last. They revived him. Someone sought to take the Eagle from him, but witha sudden accession of strength he protested against it. 

"Father, " he whispered to the old man bending over him, his red facepale and working, "mine. "

"True, " said the Duke. "He captured it. Let him keep it. "

"O God!" broke out the Baronet. "Frank! Can nothing be done?"

"Nothing. Stop. " His lips moved, his father bent nearer. "Laure----"he whispered. 

"Yes, yes, what of her?"

"That Frenchman she loved----"

"Marteau?"

The young Englishman closed his eyes in assent. 

"He could have killed me but spared--for her--he--is there, " hefaltered presently. 

"There is life in this Frenchman yet, " said one of the surgeons, looking up at the moment. 

"My Lord!" said old Sir Gervaise Yeovil, starting up, choking down asob and endeavoring to keep his voice steady. "My boy yonder----"

"Yes, " said the Duke, "a brave lad. "

"He's---- It is all up with him. You will let me take him back toEngland, and--the Frenchman and the Eagle?"

"Certainly. I wish to God it had never happened, Yeovil, " went on thesoldier. "But it had to be. Bonaparte had to be put down, the worldfreed. And somebody had to pay. "

"I thank God, " said the old man, "that my boy dies for his King and hiscountry and for human liberty. "

"Nor shall he die in vain, " said the soldier. 

Frank Yeovil died on the vessel Sir Gervaise chartered to carry him andMarteau and some other wounded officers of his acquaintance back toEngland. They did not bury him at sea. At his earnest request theytook him back to his own land to be laid with his ancestors, none ofwhom had spent themselves more gloriously or for a greater cause thanhe. 

Marteau, frightfully weak, heart-broken and helpless, by Sir GervaiseYeovil's command was taken to the Baronet's own house. 

"I did my best, " he said brokenly from the bed on which he lay as Laured'Aumenier bent over him, Sir Gervaise standing grim and silent withfolded arms in the background. 

"For France and the Emperor, " whispered the woman. 

"Yes, that, but for your husband as well. He fell upon me. I wastrying to rally the Guard--the Eagle--he was beaten down--but Irecognized him. I would not have harmed him. "

"He told me, " said the Baronet, "what you said. 'For your wife'ssake, '" he quoted in his deep voice, looking curiously at the girl. 

"Sir Gervaise, " said the Countess, looking up at him entreatingly, "Iam alone in this world but for you. I was to have been your daughter. May I speak?"

"I wish it. "

"Marteau--Jean, " she said softly, "I was not his wife. Perhaps nowthat he is dead it would have been better if I had been, but----"

"And you are free?"

Again the Countess looked at the Englishman. Simple and homely thoughhe was, he showed the qualities of his birth and rank. 

"Mademoiselle, " he began gravely, almost tenderly. He looked a longtime at her. "Little Laure, " he continued at last, taking her slenderhand in his own great one, "I had hoped that you might some day call mefather but that hope is gone--since Waterloo. If I were your realfather now I should say----"

"Monsieur!" whispered the woman, her eyes brightening, her handtightening in the clasp of the other. 

"And I think the old Marquis would say that it is the will of God, now----" He bit his lip. It was all so different from what heimagined. 

"Go on, if you please, " whispered Marteau. "I am ill. I cannotbear----"

"If she be guided by me she will be your wife, young sir, " said SirGervaise decisively. 

He dropped the woman's hand. He turned and walked heavily out of theroom without a backward glance. He could do no more. 

"And will you stoop to me?" pleaded Marteau. 

For answer the woman knelt by his bed and slipped her arm tenderlyunder his head. She bent and kissed him. 

"When you are stronger, " she replied, "you shall raise me up to yourown high level of courage and devotion and self-sacrifice, butmeanwhile it is upon my bosom that your head must lie. "

"Alas, " said Marteau, after a little, "the Emperor is taken, the Empireis lost, my poor France!"

"I will go back with you and we will help to build it up again, " saidthe woman. 

That was the best medicine that could be given to the young man. Hisrecovery was slow but it was sure and it was the more rapid because ofthe gracious care of the woman he loved, who lavished upon him all thepent-up passion of her fond adoring heart. 

Sir Gervaise Yeovil, whose interest at court was great, exerted himselfto secure a reconfirmation of Marteau's patent of nobility and to seethat no difficulties were placed in the way of the young couple inobtaining repossession of their estates. So that once more thereshould be a d'Aumenier and perhaps a renewal of the ancient house inthe old château in Champagne. This was easier since Marteau had nevertaken oath to King Louis and therefore had broken no faith. 

At the quiet wedding that took place as soon as Marteau recovered hisstrength a little, Sir Gervaise continued to act the father's part tothe poor woman. After the ceremony he delighted the heart of thesoldier by giving to him what he loved after the woman, the Eagle whichhad been Frank Yeovil's prize. 

"You will think of the lad, sometimes, " said the old Baronet to thegirl. "He was not lucky enough to win you, but he loved you and hedied with your name on his lips. "

"I shall remember him always, " said the new-made wife. 

"His name shall be held in highest honor in my house as a bravesoldier, a true lover and a most gallant gentleman, " added the new-madehusband. 

Marteau would never forget the picture of the Emperor sitting on hishorse at La Belle Alliance that June evening, stern, terrific, almostsublime, watching the Guard go by to death. He was glad he had notseen him in the retreat of which he afterward heard from old Bal-Arrêt. But that was not the last picture of the Emperor that he had. Althoughhe was scarcely strong enough to be moved, he insisted on being takento Portsmouth with his young wife. Sir Gervaise went with him. He hadno other object in life it seemed but to provide happiness for theseyoung people. He could scarcely bear them out of his sight. 

One day, a bright and sunny morning late in July, they put theconvalescing soldier into a boat with his wife and the old Baronet andthe three were rowed out into the harbor as near as the cordon ofguard-boats allowed them to approach to a great Englishship-of-the-line, across the stern of which in gold letters they readthe name, "_Bellerophon_. "

"Bonaparte gener'ly comes out 'n the quarter-gal'ry of the ship, 'boutthis hour in the mornin', " said one of the boatmen. "An' if he does wecan see him quite plain from yere. "

There were other boats there whose occupants were moved by curiosityand various emotions, but when the figure of the little man with thethree-cornered cocked hat on his head, still wearing the green uniformof the chasseurs of the Guard stepped out on the quarter-gallery, hiseyes, as it were instinctively, sought that particular boat. 

"Help me up, " said Marteau brokenly. 

The boat was a large one and moving carefully they got the youngofficer to his feet. He was wearing his own battle-stained uniform. He lifted his trembling hand to his head in salute. The little Emperorbent over the rail and stared hard at the trio. Did he recognizeMarteau? Ah, yes! He straightened up presently, his own hand returnedthe salute and then he took off that same cocked hat and bared his browand bent his head low and, with a gesture of farewell, he turned andreëntered his cabin--Prometheus on the way to his chains at St. Helena!

THE END