to
show what we thought of two dragoons who tried to catch a hussar. But at
this moment, even while I laughed at the thought, my heart stood still
within me, for there at the end of the long white road was a black patch
of cavalry waiting to receive me. To a young soldier it might have
seemed the shadow of the trees, but to me it was a troop of hussars,
and, turn where I could, death seemed to be waiting for me.

Well, I had the dragoons behind me and the hussars in front. Never since
Moscow have I seemed to be in such peril. But for the honour of the
brigade I had rather be cut down by a light cavalryman than by a heavy.
I never drew bridle, therefore, or hesitated for an instant, but I let
Violette have her head. I remember that I tried to pray as I rode, but I
am a little out of practice at such things, and the only words I could
remember were the prayer for fine weather which we used at the school on
the evening before holidays. Even this seemed better than nothing, and I
was pattering it out, when suddenly I heard French voices in front of
me. Ah, mon Dieu, but the joy went through my heart like a musket-ball.
They were ours--our own dear little rascals from the corps of Marmont.
Round whisked my two dragoons and galloped for their lives, with the
moon gleaming on their brass helmets, while I trotted up to my friends
with no undue haste, for I would have them understand that though a
hussar may fly, it is not in his nature to fly very fast. Yet I fear
that Violette's heaving flanks and foam-spattered muzzle gave the lie
to my careless bearing.

Who should be at the head of the troop but old Bouvet, whom I saved at
Leipzig! When he saw me his little pink eyes filled with tears, and,
indeed, I could not but shed a few myself at the sight of his joy. I
told him of my mission, but he laughed when I said that I must pass
through Senlis.

'The enemy is there,' said he. 'You cannot go.'

'I prefer to go where the enemy is,' I answered.

'But why not go straight to Paris with your despatch? Why should you
choose to pass through the one place where you are almost sure to be
taken or killed?'

'A soldier does not choose--he obeys,' said I, just as I had heard
Napoleon say it.

Old Bouvet laughed in his wheezy way, until I had to give my moustachios
a twirl and look him up and down in a manner which brought him to
reason.

'Well', said he, 'you had best come along with us, for we are all bound
for Senlis. Our order