thank you?' he cried. 'But you--what are you to wear?'

'I will wear yours.'

'And perhaps fall a victim to your generosity?'

'It is my duty to take the risk,' I answered; 'but I have no fears. I
will ascend in your uniform. A hundred swords will be turned upon me.
"Hold!" I will shout, "I am the Brigadier Gerard!" Then they will see my
face. They will know me. And I will tell them about you. Under the
shield of these clothes you will be sacred.'

His fingers trembled with eagerness as he tore off his tunic. His boots
and breeches were much like my own, so there was no need to change them,
but I gave him my hussar jacket, my dolman, my shako, my sword-belt, and
my sabre-tasche, while I took in exchange his high sheepskin cap with
the gold chevron, his fur-trimmed coat, and his crooked sword. Be it
well understood that in changing the tunics I did not forget to change
my thrice-precious letter also from my old one to my new.

'With your leave,' said I, 'I shall now bind you to a barrel.'

He made a great fuss over this, but I have learned in my soldiering
never to throw away chances, and how could I tell that he might not,
when my back was turned, see how the matter really stood, and break in
upon my plans? He was leaning against a barrel at the time, so I ran six
times round it with a rope, and then tied it with a big knot behind. If
he wished to come upstairs he would, at least, have to carry a thousand
litres of good French wine for a knapsack. I then shut the door of the
back cellar behind me, so that he might not hear what was going forward,
and tossing the candle away I ascended the kitchen stair.

There were only about twenty steps, and yet, while I came up them, I
seemed to have time to think of everything that I had ever hoped to do.
It was the same feeling that I had at Eylau when I lay with my broken
leg and saw the horse artillery galloping down upon me. Of course, I
knew that if I were taken I should be shot instantly as being disguised
within the enemy's lines. Still, it was a glorious death--in the direct
service of the Emperor--and I reflected that there could not be less
than five lines, and perhaps seven, in the _Moniteur_ about me. Palaret
had eight lines, and I am sure that he had not so fine a career.

When I made my way out into the hall, with all the nonchalance in my
face and manner that I could assume, the very first thing that I saw was
Bouvet's dead body, with his legs drawn up and a br