e southwest wind as
it rattles on my windows seems always to be the strong voice of the
motherland calling her child back to that bosom into which I am ready to
sink. I have played my part in my time. The time has passed. I must pass
also.

Nay, dear friends, do not look sad, for what can be happier than a life
completed in honour and made beautiful with friendship and love? And
yet it is solemn also when a man approaches the end of the long road and
sees the turning which leads him into the unknown. But the Emperor and
all his Marshals have ridden round that dark turning and passed into
the beyond. My Hussars, too--there are not fifty men who are not waiting
yonder. I must go. But on this the last night I will tell you that which
is more than a tale--it is a great historical secret. My lips have
been sealed, but I see no reason why I should not leave behind me some
account of this remarkable adventure, which must otherwise be entirely
lost, since I and only I, of all living men, have a knowledge of the
facts.

I will ask you to go back with me to the year 1821.

In that year our great Emperor had been absent from us for six years,
and only now and then from over the seas we heard some whisper which
showed that he was still alive. You cannot think what a weight it was
upon our hearts for us who loved him to think of him in captivity eating
his giant soul out upon that lonely island. From the moment we rose
until we closed our eyes in sleep the thought was always with us, and we
felt dishonoured that he, our chief and master, should be so humiliated
without our being able to move a hand to help him. There were many who
would most willingly have laid down the remainder of their lives to
bring him a little ease, and yet all that we could do was to sit and
grumble in our cafes and stare at the map, counting up the leagues of
water which lay between us.

It seemed that he might have been in the moon for all that we could do
to help him. But that was only because we were all soldiers and knew
nothing of the sea.

Of course, we had our own little troubles to make us bitter, as well as
the wrongs of our Emperor. There were many of us who had held high rank
and would hold it again if he came back to his own. We had not found
it possible to take service under the white flag of the Bourbons, or to
take an oath which might turn our sabres against the man whom we loved.
So we found ourselves with neither work nor money. What c