"--"Take it, colonel--take it--take his parole, not to go beyond
the ditch."
"But I decline to give any such promise," said I, with a hardihood which at
the time surprised me, and has always done so.
"Why, my good youth," said the Marshal in great surprise, "why will you
not take advantage of the offer--a kinder one, let me tell you, than I am
in the habit of making to an enemy?"
"Simply, sir, because I will endeavour to escape on the very first
opportunity."
"Ha!" said the Marshal once more, "this to my face? Lafontaine,"--; to the
aide--de--camp,--"a file of soldiers." The handsome young officer
hesitated hung in the wind, as we say, for a moment--moved, as I imagined,
by my extreme youth.
This irritated the Marshal rose, and stamped on the floor. The colonel
essayed to interfere. "Sentry--sentry--a file of grenadiers--take him
forth," and--here he energetically clutched the steel hilt of his sword,
and instantly dashed it from him--"Sacre!--the devil--what is that?" and
straightway he began to pirouette on one leg round the room, shaking his
right hand, and blowing his fingers.
The officers in waiting could not stand it any longer, and burst into a
fit of laughter, in which their commanding officer, after an unavailing
attempt to look serious--I should rather write fierce joined, and there he
was, the bloody Davoust--Duke of Auerstad Prince of Eckmuhl--the Hamburgh
Robespierre--the terrible Davoust--dancing all around the room, in a
regular guffaw, like to split his sides.
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