Indeed, he had acted exactly as I should have done in his place. From
each colonel he had demanded the two best horsemen in the regiment,
and so he had assembled a band who might expect to catch whatever they
should follow. Heaven help the Emperor if, without an escort, he should
find them on his track!
And I, dear friends--imagine the fever, the ferment, the madness of my
mind! All thought of Grouchy had passed away. No guns were to be heard
to the east. He could not be near. If he should come up he would not now
be in time to alter the event of the day. The sun was already low in the
sky and there could not be more than two or three hours of daylight.
My mission might be dismissed as useless. But here was another mission,
more pressing, more immediate, a mission which meant the safety, and
perhaps the life, of the Emperor. At all costs, through every danger, I
must get back to his side.
But how was I to do it? The whole Prussian army was now between me and
the French lines. They blocked every road, but they could not block the
path of duty when Etienne Gerard sees it lie before him. I could not
wait longer. I must be gone.
There was but the one opening to the loft, and so it was only down the
ladder that I could descend. I looked into the kitchen and I found that
the young surgeon was still there. In a chair sat the wounded English
aide-de-camp, and on the straw lay two Prussian soldiers in the last
stage of exhaustion. The others had all recovered and been sent on.
These were my enemies, and I must pass through them in order to gain
my horse. From the surgeon I had nothing to fear; the Englishman was
wounded, and his sword stood with his cloak in a corner; the two Germans
were half insensible, and their muskets were not beside them. What
could be simpler? I opened the trap-door, slipped down the ladder, and
appeared in the midst of them, my sword drawn in my hand.
What a picture of surprise! The surgeon, of course, knew all, but to the
Englishman and the two Germans it must have seemed that the god of war
in person had descended from the skies. With my appearance, with my
figure, with my silver and grey uniform, and with that gleaming sword in
my hand, I must indeed have been a sight worth seeing. The two Germans
lay petrified with staring eyes. The English officer half rose, but sat
down again from weakness, his mouth open and his hand on the back of his
chair.
“What the deuce!” he kept on repeating, “what the deuce!”
“Pray do not move,” said I; “I will hurt no one, but woe to the man who
lays hands upon me to stop me. You have nothing to fear if you leave me
alone, and nothing to hope if you try to hinder me. I am Colonel Etienne
Gerard, of the Hussars of Conflans.”
“The deuce!” said the Englishman. “You are the man that killed the fox.”
A terrible scowl had darkened his face. The jealousy of sportsmen is a
base passion. He hated me, this Englishman, because I had been before
him in transfixing the animal. How different are our natures! Had I
seen him do such a deed I would have embraced him with cries of joy. But
there was no time for argument.
“I regret it, sir,” said I; “but you have a cloak here and I must take
it.”
He tried to rise from his chair and reach his sword, but I got between
him and the corner where it lay.
“If there is anything in the pockets----”
“A case,” said he.
“I would not rob you,” said I; and raising the cloak I took from the
pockets a silver flask, a square wooden case and a field-glass. All
these I handed to him. The wretch opened the case, took out a pistol,
and pointed it straight at my head.
“Now, my fine fellow,” said he, “put down your sword and give yourself
up.”
I was so astounded at this infamous action that I stood petrified before
him. I tried to speak to him of honour and gratitude, but I saw his eyes
fix and harden over the pistol.
“Enough talk!” said he. “Drop it!”
Could I endure such a humiliation? Death were better than to be disarmed
in such a fashion. The word
“Fire!” was on my lips when in an instant the English man vanished
from before my face, and in his place was a great pile of hay, with a
red-coated arm and two Hessian boots waving and kicking in the heart of
it. Oh, the gallant landlady! It was my whiskers that had saved me.
“Fly, soldier, fly!” she cried, and she heaped fresh trusses of hay from
the floor on to the struggling Englishman. In an instant I was out in
the courtyard, had led Violette from her stable, and was on her back.
A pistol bullet whizzed past my shoulder from the window, and I saw a
furious face looking out at me. I smiled my contempt and spurred out
into the road. The last of the Prussians had passed, and both my road
and my duty lay clear before me. If France won, all well. If France
lost, then on me and my little mare depended that which was more than
victory or defeat--the safety and the life of the Emperor. “On, Etienne,
on!” I cried.
“Of all your noble exploits, the greatest, even if it be the last, lies
now before you!”