o a knot, and he cast such a
glance at my poor Bart from under them that one by one the cards came
fluttering down from his nerveless fingers. Of the two other men, one,
who had a face as brown and hard as though it had been carved out of old
oak, wore a bright red coat, while the other, a fine portly man with
bushy side-whiskers, was in a blue jacket with gold facings. Some little
distance behind, three orderlies were holding as many horses, and an
escort of dragoons was waiting in the rear.

'Heh, Crauford, what the deuce is this?' asked the thin man.

'D'you hear, sir?' cried the man with the red coat. 'Lord Wellington
wants to know what this means.'

My poor Bart broke into an account of all that had occurred, but that
rock-face never softened for an instant.

'Pretty fine, 'pon my word, General Crauford,' he broke in. 'The
discipline of this force must be maintained, sir. Report yourself at
headquarters as a prisoner.'

It was dreadful to me to see the Bart mount his horse and ride off with
hanging head. I could not endure it. I threw myself before this English
General. I pleaded with him for my friend. I told him how I, Colonel
Gerard, would witness what a dashing young officer he was. Ah, my
eloquence might have melted the hardest heart; I brought tears to my own
eyes, but none to his. My voice broke, and I could say no more.

'What weight do you put on your mules, sir, in the French service?' he
asked. Yes, that was all this phlegmatic Englishman had to answer to
these burning words of mine. That was his reply to what would have made
a Frenchman weep upon my shoulder.

'What weight on a mule?' asked the man with the red coat.

'Two hundred and ten pounds,' said I.

'Then you load them deucedly badly,' said Lord Wellington. 'Remove the
prisoner to the rear.'

His dragoons closed in upon me, and I--I was driven mad, as I thought
that the game had been in my hands, and that I ought at that moment to
be a free man. I held the cards up in front of the General.

'See, my lord!' I cried; 'I played for my freedom and I won, for, as you
perceive, I hold the king.'

For the first time a slight smile softened his gaunt face.

'On the contrary,' said he, as he mounted his horse, 'it is I who won,
for, as you perceive, my King holds you.'

4. HOW THE KING HELD THE BRIGADIER

Murat was undoubtedly an excellent cavalry officer, but he had too much
swagger, which spoils many a good soldier. Lasalle, to