an easy imagination,
suggested quite enough to make at least a plausible story, and I wrote
away without impediment and halt till I came to that part of the action
in which the retreat over the bridge commenced. There I stopped. Was I
to remain satisfied with such a crude and one-sided explanation as
the notebook afforded, and merely say that the retreating forces were
harassed by a strong flank fire from our batteries? Was I to omit the
whole of the great incident, the occupation of the 'Fels Insel,' and the
damaging discharges of grape and round shot which plunged through the
crowded ranks, and ultimately destroyed the bridge? Could I--to use
the phrase so popular--could I, in the 'interests of truth,' forget the
brilliant achievement of a gallant band of heroes who, led on by a young
hussar of the 9th, threw themselves into the 'Fels Insel,' routed
the garrison, captured the artillery, and directing its fire upon the
retiring enemy, contributed most essentially to the victory. Ought I,
in a word, to suffer a name so associated with a glorious action to sink
into oblivion? Should Maurice Tiernay be lost to fame out of any neglect
or false shame on my part? Forbid it all truth and justice! cried I, as
I set myself down to relate the whole adventure most circumstantially.
Looking up from time to time at my officer, who slept soundly, I
suffered myself to dilate upon a theme in which somehow I felt a more
than ordinary degree of interest. The more I dwelt upon the incident,
the more brilliant and striking did it seem like the appetite,
which the proverb tells us comes by eating, my enthusiasm grew under
indulgence, so that, had a little more time been granted me, I verily
believe I should have forgotten Moreau altogether, and coupled only
Maurice Tiernay with the passage of the Rhine, and the capture of the
fortress of Kehl. Fortunately, Captain Discau awoke, and cut short my
historic recollections by asking me how much I had done, and telling me
to read it aloud to him.

I accordingly began to read my narrative slowly and deliberately,
thereby giving myself time to think what I should best do when I came to
that part which became purely personal To omit it altogether would have
been dangerous, as the slightest glance at the mass of writing would
have shown the deception. There was, then, nothing left, but to invent
at the moment another version, in which Maurice Tiernay never occurred,
and the incident of the 'Fels Ins