S

Massena was a thin, sour little fellow, and after his hunting accident
he had only one eye, but when it looked out from under his cocked hat
there was not much upon a field of battle which escaped it. He could
stand in front of a battalion, and with a single sweep tell you if a
buckle or a gaiter button were out of place. Neither the officers nor
the men were very fond of him, for he was, as you know, a miser, and
soldiers love that their leaders should be free-handed. At the same
time, when it came to work they had a very high respect for him, and
they would rather fight under him than under anyone except the Emperor
himself, and Lannes, when he was alive. After all, if he had a tight
grasp upon his money-bags, there was a day also, you must remember, when
that same grip was upon Zurich and Genoa. He clutched on to his
positions as he did to his strong box, and it took a very clever man to
loosen him from either.

When I received his summons I went gladly to his headquarters, for I was
always a great favourite of his, and there was no officer of whom he
thought more highly. That was the best of serving with those good old
generals, that they knew enough to be able to pick out a fine soldier
when they saw one. He was seated alone in his tent, with his chin upon
his hand, and his brow as wrinkled as if he had been asked for a
subscription. He smiled, however, when he saw me before him.

'Good day, Colonel Gerard.'

'Good day, Marshal.'

'How is the Third of Hussars?'

'Seven hundred incomparable men upon seven hundred excellent horses.'

'And your wounds--are they healed?'

'My wounds never heal, Marshal,' I answered.

'And why?'

'Because I have always new ones.'

'General Rapp must look to his laurels,' said he, his face all breaking
into wrinkles as he laughed. 'He has had twenty-one from the enemy's
bullets, and as many from Larrey's knives and probes. Knowing that you
were hurt, Colonel, I have spared you of late.'

'Which hurt me most of all.'

'Tut, tut! Since the English got behind these accursed lines of Torres
Vedras, there has been little for us to do. You did not miss much during
your imprisonment at Dartmoor. But now we are on the eve of action.'

'We advance?'

'No, retire.'

My face must have shown my dismay. What, retire before this sacred dog
of a Wellington--he who had listened unmoved to my words, and had sent
me to his land of fogs? I could have sobbed as I thought of it.