s are to reconnoitre the place. A squadron of
Poniatowski's Polish Lancers are in front of us. If you must ride
through it, it is possible that we may be able to go with you.'

So away we went, jingling and clanking through the quiet night until we
came up with the Poles--fine old soldiers all of them, though a trifle
heavy for their horses. It was a treat to see them, for they could not
have carried themselves better if they had belonged to my own brigade.
We rode together, until in the early morning we saw the lights of
Senlis. A peasant was coming along with a cart, and from him we learned
how things were going there.

His information was certain, for his brother was the Mayor's coachman,
and he had spoken with him late the night before. There was a single
squadron of Cossacks--or a polk, as they call it in their frightful
language--quartered upon the Mayor's house, which stands at the corner
of the market-place, and is the largest building in the town. A whole
division of Prussion infantry was encamped in the woods to the north,
but only the Cossacks were in Senlis. Ah, what a chance to avenge
ourselves upon these barbarians, whose cruelty to our poor countryfolk
was the talk at every camp fire.

We were into the town like a torrent, hacked down the vedettes, rode
over the guard, and were smashing in the doors of the Mayor's house
before they understood that there was a Frenchman within twenty miles of
them. We saw horrid heads at the windows--heads bearded to the temples,
with tangled hair and sheepskin caps, and silly, gaping mouths. 'Hourra!
Hourra!' they shrieked, and fired with their carbines, but our fellows
were into the house and at their throats before they had wiped the sleep
out of their eyes. It was dreadful to see how the Poles flung themselves
upon them, like starving wolves upon a herd of fat bucks--for, as you
know, the Poles have a blood feud against the Cossacks. The most were
killed in the upper rooms, whither they had fled for shelter, and the
blood was pouring down into the hall like rain from a roof. They are
terrible soldiers, these Poles, though I think they are a trifle heavy
for their horses. Man for man, they are as big as Kellerman's
cuirassiers. Their equipment is, of course, much lighter, since they are
without the cuirass, back-plate, and helmet.

Well, it was at this point that I made an error--a very serious error it
must be admitted. Up to this moment I had carried out my mission