when that old General refused to attempt to
join Napoleon. The army then broke up,
and he and some other officers skulked about
till they could seize a fishing-boat and escape
to Italy.

Had he ever spoken to Napoleon.

"Yes; he had been examined in
mathematics by the Emperor when he was a boy
at the military school; and after that in
Champagne, where he helped to save the
Emperor from the onset of a pulk of Cossacks.
As aide-de-camp to Murat, he could assure
me that Murat's outbreak in Italy was a
pre-arranged thing with the Emperor; if he
had wanted him at Waterloo he would have
come, and his fiery storm of horse would
soon have broken our squares."

"Were you ever taken prisoner, Monsieur
Achille?"

"Twice: in Russia, by those barbares the
Muscovites, who were mad enough to burn
Moscow over our heads, and, by the help of
a hard winter, compelled us to retire with
some discomfiture into France—a repulse
made too much of by your historians, but
such is the way of your writers. Yes, three
times was I taken prisoner: once in Austerlitz,
when they sent me to the rear, and
finding no Austrians there who cared to
retain me, I quietly walked off and rejoined
my regiment; then at Borodino, where they
put me into a wagon with four Russian
soldiers to be taken to the nearest town; but
I gave them so much brandy at the first roadside
inn that they forgot all about me, and in
the night I gave some gold to a peasant to
drive me back to the camp in the wagon
that brought me."

"Difficult to trap an old fox."

"The next time was at the Beresina,
where there certainly was some confusion;
but, mon Dieu! nothing to the fuss you
English make about it. This time I was
fairly done, and was sent to the rear with a
Russian dragoon, who was civil enough, but
I could see had as many eyes as there are
eyes in a peacock's tail. I think he must
have had one in the back of his head, for I
swear he seemed to guess my very thoughts
all the time he pretended to talk about the
genius of the Emperor and the good practice
of Druot and his artillery. About Murat,
too, my old master, he was very curious, and
wanted to know why he liked fighting single-
handed with those greasy beasts of Cossacks.
Well, I was you may be sure not going to
be behind him in gaiety, so I laughed and
sung; and the more I saw him shrug his
shoulders, the more I talked, of every country
being the brave man's country, and my
desire to see Saint Petersburg, the great
city of our brave enemies. Gradually, as we
rode on, I saw that his suspicions began to
relax; he thought himself sure of me — he
thought that I had relinquished all hope of
escape or return to my own people. On we
went, laughing and chatting, and telling our
mutual soldiers' stories. I soon saw that he
let my bridle go, and said nothing when I
gathered it up in my own hand. I then
began talking of the sword exercise, and of
the singular difference which existed between
the way the French and Russians used it.
Our cut number four was done in a way that
they never seemed to understand, though
they sometimes parried. Upon this, the
fellow getting nettled for the military skill
of his countrymen, drew my sword that hung
at his side, and began throwing through the
Russian cuts and parries, trying to imitate
those our regiments use. Whatever he did
I laughed to scorn, whether he cut right or
left. At last, in a pet, the fool did just what
I expected—I had laid the trap well. It
was with difficulty I prevented my eyes
glittering with delight, as in a pet he thrust my
sword into my hand, and desired me to show
him what I meant. Then I thrust my feet
deep into the stirrups, adjusted my reins,
drew my horse a little before him, and,
suddenly wheeling round, my arm at full swing,
I gave him number four across the teeth, and
he dropped. I did not look back to see if he
was dead or not, but (here M. Achille's breath
quickened, and his teeth clenched in a
sardonic and almost cruel smile) I know HE
NEVER ASKED FOR ANY MORE. Then I spurred
my horse, and got safe back to the eagle of
my regiment. I had a narrow escape too,
after that, in Calabria, soon after I had seen
Fra Diavolo and his gang executed at
Naples."

"What was that?" I said; "never mind
the verbs for to-day."

"Why, I and a brother officer were riding
through a chestnut wood, followed by a small
detachment, not suspecting ambuscade. I
was a little way on, and my friend had
stopped the other side of a brook to light his
cigar. Suddenly I heard some shots, looked
round, and saw the brigands break out and
cut him literally to pieces. The men were
all slain or taken prisoners, as the
Calabrians were too many to render resistance
possible. I, having no spurs, drew out my
sword, and banged my horse with it,
occasionally, if any impediment came, pricking
him with the point, and so I escaped the
wretches' hands."

"And had you never revenge on the
brigands?"

"Surely, had I. I instantly got a handful
of men, drove the murderers into a cave, and
when they kept sallying out and robbing the
neighbourhood, I did just what Pelissier was
afterwards execrated for doing in Algiers. I
rolled down gunpowder casks on them, with
the fuses burning, and then stormed in
directly the smoke had blown over. I will
not tell you how many bodies we dug out of
that cave, but this I will tell you, that the
villains deserved their fate. Poor Strelitzki!"

"Was that your friend's name?"

"It was. We had been together at the