s was one of fifty-eight commissions which Louis
XVI. signed for the Ecole Militaire. Eleven years later, November 15,
1796, Bonaparte, commander-in-chief of the army of Italy, at the Bridge
of Arcola, which was defended by two regiments of Croats and two pieces
of cannon, seeing his ranks disseminated by grapeshot and musket balls,
feeling that victory was slipping through his fingers, alarmed by the
hesitation of his bravest followers, wrenched the tri-color from the
rigid fingers of a dead color-bearer, and dashed toward the bridge,
shouting: "Soldiers! are you no longer the men of Lodi?" As he did so he
saw a young lieutenant spring past him who covered him with his body.

This was far from what Bonaparte wanted. He wished to cross first. Had
it been possible he would have gone alone.

Seizing the young man by the flap of his coat, he drew him back,
saying: "Citizen, you are only a lieutenant, I a commander-in-chief! The
precedence belongs to me."

"Too true," replied the other; and he followed Bonaparte instead of
preceding him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

"He is killed, general."

"To Elliot, in that case."

"Killed also."

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

"To whom you will, then; but I want to see that lieutenant."

He dared not name any others, fearing to hear again that fatal "Killed!"

A quarter of an hour later the young lieutenant was ushered into his
tent, which was lighted faintly by a single lamp.

"Come nearer, lieutenant," said Bonaparte.

The young man made three steps and came within the cir