XVII. PICHEGRU…

XVII. PICHEGRU

Pichegru is destined to play so important a part in this story that we must fix the eyes of the reader upon him with more attention than we have done with the secondary characters that we have hitherto put upon the scene.

Charles Pichegru was born on the 16th of February, 1761, in the village of Planches, near Arbois. His family were poor and rustic; his forefathers had been known for three or four hundred years as honest day-laborers, and they had derived their name from the character of their work. They reaped their gru or grain, with the pic or mattock; from these two words, pic and gru, the name of Pichegru had been derived.

Pichegru, who early showed traces of that precocious disposition which marks the distinguished man, began his education at the school of the Paulist Fathers at Arbois; they, seeing his rapid progress, particularly in mathematics, sent him, with Father Patrault, one of their professors, to the College of Brienne. There he made such progress that at the end of two years he was appointed assistant professor. At this period his whole ambition was to be a monk; but Father Patrault, who divined Napoleon's genius, saw, with equal clearness, Pichegru's possibilities, and induced him to turn his attention to military life.

Yielding to his advice, Pichegru, in 1783, entered the first foot artillery, where, thanks to his incontestable merit, he promptly rose to the rank of adjutant, in which grade he made his first campaign in America. Upon his return to France he ardently embraced the principles of 1789, and was a leader in a popular society in Besançon, when a regiment of the Volunteer Guards, passing through the city, chose him for their commander. Two months later Pichegru was commander-in-chief of the Army of the Rhine.

M. de Narbonne, Minister of War, having missed him, asked one day in speaking of him: "What became of that young officer to whom all the colonels were tempted to take off their hats when they spoke to him?"

This young officer had become commander-in-chief of the Army of the Rhine, a promotion that had not tended to make him any prouder than he had been before. And, indeed, Pichegru's rapid advancement, his fine education, and the exalted position he held in the army had not changed in the least the simplicity of his heart. As a sub-officer, he had had a mistress, and had always provided for her; her name was Rose, she was thirty years old, a dressmaker, lame, and not at all pretty. She lived at Besançon. Once a week she wrote to the general, always in the most respectful manner.

These letters were always full of good counsel and tender advice; she admonished the general not to be dazzled by his good fortune, and to remain the same Charlot that he had always been at home; she urged him to economy, not for her sake, but for that of his parents. She, God be thanked, could take care of herself; she had made six dresses for the wife of a representative, and was to make six more for the wife of a general. She had in addition three pieces of gold, which represented fifteen or sixteen hundred francs in paper money.

Pichegru, whatever his occupation, always read these letters as soon as he received them, and put them away in his portfolio carefully, saying: "Poor dear girl, I myself taught her how to spell."

We crave permission to enlarge upon these details. We are about to bring actively upon the stage men who, for a long time, have been more or less prominently before the eyes of Europe, who have been praised or blamed as the different parties wished to elevate or abase them. Historians themselves have judged these men more or less superficially, thanks to their habit of accepting ready-made opinions; but it is different with the novelist, constrained as he is to descend to the veriest details, since in the most insignificant he may sometimes find the thread that will guide him through the most inextricable labyrinth--that of the human heart. We therefore dare to affirm that in showing them in their private life, which historians altogether neglect to do, as well as in their public life, to which too much attention is often paid, although it is sometimes but the mask of the other, we shall bring these illustrious dead before the reader's eyes, for the first time as they really were--these dead whom political passions have cast into the hands of calumny to be buried and forgotten.

Thus history tells us that Pichegru betrayed France, for the sake of the government of Alsace, the red ribbon, the Château of Chambord, its park, and its dependencies, together with twelve pieces of cannon, a million, in ready money, two thousand francs of income, half of which was revertible at his death to his wife, and five thousand to each of his children; and finally the territory of Arbois, which was to bear the title of Pichegru, and was to be exempt from taxes for ten years.

The material reply to this accusation is that, as Pichegru was never married, he had neither wife nor children to provide for; the moral reply is, to show him in his private life that we may know what his needs and ambitions really were.

Rose, as we have seen, gave two pieces of advice to her lover: One was to practice economy for his parents' sake, and the other was to remain the same good and simple Charlot that he had always been.

Pichegru received during the campaign a daily sum of one hundred and fifty thousand francs in paper money. The sum for the whole month arrived on the 1st in great sheets divided off. Every morning enough was cut off for the needs of the day, and the sheet was laid upon a table with a pair of scissors upon it. Any one who wished had access to it, and the result was that the sheet rarely lasted the whole month. When it was gone, on the 24th or 25th, as frequently happened, every one had to get along as best he could for the remainder of the time.

One of his secretaries wrote of him: "The great mathematician of Brienne was incapable of calculating in ready money the account of his washerwoman." And he added: "An empire would have been too small for his genius; a farm was too great for his indolence."

As for Rose's advice to remain "the same good Charlot," we shall see whether he needed the advice.

Two or three years after the time of which we are writing, Pichegru, then at the height of his popularity, on his return to his beloved Franche-Comté, to revisit his natal town of Planche, was stopped at the entrance of Arbois, beneath a triumphal arch, by a deputation which came to compliment him and to invite him to a state dinner and a grand ball.

Pichegru listened smilingly to the orator, and when he had finished, said:

"My dear compatriot, I have only a few hours to pass in the place where I was born, and I must devote most of them to my relatives in the neighboring villages; if the friendship which exists between us should lead me to neglect them, you would be the first to blame me, and you would be right. You have come to invite me to a dinner and a ball, and, although I have not been in the habit of indulging in those pleasures lately, I should be delighted to participate in them. I should be pleased to drink a few glasses of our excellent new wine in such good company, and to watch the young girls of Arbois dancing; they must be very pretty, if they resemble their mothers. But a soldier has only his word, and I swear to you, on my honor, that I am engaged. Long ago I promised Barbier, the vine-dresser, to take my first meal with him when next I should come here, and I cannot in conscience eat two dinners between now and sunset."

"But," said the president, "it seems to me that there is a way of compromising the difficulty."

"What is it?"

"To invite Barbier to dine with us."

"If you do that, and he accepts, I shall ask nothing better," said Pichegru. "But I doubt if he will. Does he still have that same fierce and melancholy air which won him the name of Barbier the Desperate?"

"More than ever, general."

"Well, I will go and find him myself," said Pichegru, "for I think nothing short of my influence will induce him to dine with us."

"Very well, general, we will accompany you," said the deputies.

"Come along," said Pichegru.

And they went in search of Barbier the Desperate, a poor vine-dresser, who owned only a hundred vines, and who watered with their produce his poor crust of black bread.

They walked through the town. At the other end the general stopped before an old linden tree.

"Citizens," he said, "preserve this tree and never allow any one to cut it down. It was here that a hero, who had defended your town with five hundred men against the whole royal army commanded by Biron, suffered martyrdom. The hero's name was Claude Morel. That brute of a beast, named Biron, who ended by biting the hand that fed him, had Morel hanged to that tree. A few years later, it was Biron himself, who, having betrayed France, fought for his life with the executioner, until the man was forced to cut off his head by a miracle of strength and skill, taking his sword from the attendant's hand when the prisoner was not looking."

And saluting the glorious tree, Pichegru continued on his way amid the plaudits of the people who accompanied him.

Some one who knew where Barbier's vineyard was, discovered him in the midst of the poles and called him. Barbier lifted his head, covered with the traditional red cap, and asked: "Who wants me?"

"Charlot," replied the other.

"What Charlot?"

"Charlot Pichegru."

"You are making fun of me," said the vine-dresser, and he returned to his work.

"Indeed, I am not, for here he is himself."

"Hey! Barbier," cried Pichegru.

At the well-known voice, Barbier the Desperate stood up, and seeing the general's uniform in the midst of the group, he exclaimed: "Hallo! is it really he?"

Running through the poles, he stopped at the edge of the vineyard to assure himself that he was not the victim of a hallucination. Having satisfied himself that it really was the general, he ran to him, and, throwing himself into his arms, cried: "Is it indeed you, my dear Charlot, my Charlot?"

"And is it you, my dear friend?" replied Pichegru, pressing him to his heart.

And the peasant and his friend wept together, while every one drew aside that their meeting might be uninterrupted.

After the first greetings had been exchanged, the president approached them, and explained to Barbier the Desperate the object of this ceremonious visit in the midst of the fields. Barbier looked at Pichegru to know whether he should accept or not. The latter nodded affirmatively.

Barbier wished at least to go home and put on his Sunday clothes, but the president, who had read in Berchou's poems what that famous lover of good cheer has to say about warmed-up dinners, would not allow him to take the time, and they escorted Pichegru and Barbier the Desperate to the mayor's house, where dinner was awaiting them.

Pichegru placed the president at his right, but Barbier the Desperate sat at his left, and Pichegru talked to him constantly, never leaving him until he took his departure.

We crave pardon for this long digression which gives a glimpse of one of the most remarkable men of the Revolution. This glance, thrown upon his private life, will aid us to judge and understand, perhaps more impartially than has been done in the past, the man who is to be one of the most important characters in this story.

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XVIII. CHARLES'S RECEPTION

It was to this man, destined, unless the fates interfered, to a remarkable future, that Charles carried a letter of introduction. It was therefore with almost greater emotion than he had felt in approaching Schneider and Saint-Just that the boy entered the large but unpretentious house where Pichegru had made his headquarters.

The sentinel, standing at the entrance to the corridor, told him that Pichegru was in his cabinet, the third door to the right.

Charles entered the corridor with a firm step that gradually grew slower and less noisy as he approached the door that had been pointed out to him.

When he reached the threshold of the half-open door, he could see the general, leaning with both hands on a table, studying a large map of Germany; so sure was he that he should forthwith carry hostilities beyond the Rhine.

Pichegru appeared older than he really was, and his figure aided in the deception; he was above medium height, and he was solidly and sturdily built. He possessed no other elegance than that of strength. His chest was broad, although he stooped slightly. His vast shoulders, from which rose a short, full, vigorous neck, gave him something of the appearance of an athlete, like Milo, or a gladiator, like Spartacus. His face had the square contour peculiar to the Francs-Comtois of pure descent. His jawbones were enormous, and his forehead immense and very prominent about the temples. His nose was well-formed, and very straight, forming a long ridge from tip to base. Nothing could have been more gentle than his expression, unless he had reason to make it imperious or formidable. Had a great artist wished to express the impassibility of a demigod on a human face, he might have taken Pichegru's for a model.

His profound contempt for men and events, concerning which he never expressed his opinion save with disdainful irony, added greatly to his character. Pichegru loyally served the social order which he had found established, because it was his duty; but he did not and he could not like it. His heart softened only when he thought of the village where he hoped to pass his old age. "To fulfil one's task and then to rest," he often said, "is the whole destiny of man!"[2]

[2] We borrow this portrait from Nodier's study of Pichegru.

Charles made a slight movement which betrayed his presence to Pichegru. The latter possessed the quick sight and keen hearing of the man whose life often depends upon that hearing or sight. He raised his head swiftly and fastened his eyes upon the child with an expression of kindness that emboldened him greatly.

He entered and handed his letter to the general with a bow. "For the citizen-general Pichegru," he said.

"Did you recognize me?" asked the general.

"Immediately, general."

"But you had never seen me."

"My father has described you to me."

During this conversation Pichegru had opened the letter.

"What!" he said, "so you are the son of my brave and dear friend--"

The boy did not allow him to finish.

"Yes, citizen-general," he said.

"He says that he gives you to me."

"It remains to be seen whether you will accept the gift."

"What do you want me to do with you?"

"Anything you please."

"I cannot in conscience make a soldier of you; you are too young and weak."

"General, I did not expect to have the pleasure of seeing you so soon. My father gave me another letter to a friend in Strasbourg, where I was to have stayed at least a year to study Greek under him."

"It was not Euloge Schneider?" asked Pichegru, with a laugh.

"Yes, it was."

"Well?"

"Well, he was arrested yesterday."

"By whose order?"

"By that of Saint-Just; he has been sent to the revolutionary tribunal at Paris."

"In that case, you may as well say farewell to him. How did it happen?"

Charles related Mademoiselle de Brumpt's story, to which Pichegru listened with evident interest.

"In truth," he said, "some creatures dishonor humanity. Saint-Just did well. And you did not get spattered with the mud in the midst of all that?"

"Oh!" said Charles, proud of being the hero of an adventure at his age, "I was in prison when it happened."

"What, in prison?"

"Yes; I was arrested the day before."

"Then they have begun to arrest children?"

"That is just what made Saint-Just so angry."

"But why were you arrested?"

"For warning two deputies from Besançon that it was not safe for them to remain in Strasbourg."

"Dumont and Ballu?"

"Yes."

"They are on my staff; you will see them."

"I thought they had returned to Besançon?"

"They changed their minds on the way. And so it is to you they owe the warning that probably saved their lives?"

"It seems I did wrong," said the boy, lowering his eyes.

"Wrong! Who told you that you had done wrong in accomplishing a good deed and saving the lives of your fellow-creatures?"

"Saint-Just; but he added that he pardoned me, since pity was a childish virtue. Then he quoted his own example to me; that very morning he had sent his best friend to be shot."

Pichegru's face darkened.

"That is true," he said; "the occurrence was put upon the order of the day, and I must acknowledge that, however one may judge of it individually, it had a good influence upon the discipline of the soldiers. But God preserve me from having to give such an example, for I do not hesitate to say that I should not do it. The devil! we are Frenchmen, and not Spartans. They can put a mask over our faces for a time, but sooner or later that mask will lift and the face beneath will be the same; it may have a few more wrinkles, but that is all."

"Well, general, to return to my father's letter--"

"It is settled that you stay with us. I attach you as secretary to my staff. Can you ride?"

"I must confess, general, that I am not a very good horseman."

"You will learn. You came on foot?"

"From Rohwillers, yes."

"And how did you get from Strasbourg to Rohwillers?"

"I came in a carry-all with Madame Teutch."

"The landlady of the Hôtel de la Lanterne?"

"And sergeant-major Augereau."

"And how the devil did you get acquainted with that brute, Pierre Augereau?"

"He was Eugene Beauharnais' fencing-master."

"Son of General Beauharnais?"

"Yes."

"Another one who will expiate his victories upon the scaffold," said Pichegru, with a sigh; "they find that grape-shot does not work fast enough. But then, my poor child, you must be half starved."

"Oh, no," replied Charles; "I have just seen a sight that has taken away my appetite."

"What have you seen?"

"I saw a poor noble shot, who comes from our country. He emigrated, and I think you must know him."

"The Comte de Sainte-Hermine?"

"Yes."

"They guillotined the father eight months ago, and to-day they have shot the son. There are still two brothers." Pichegru shrugged his shoulders, and continued, "Why not shoot them all at once? Then they would be rid of the whole family. Have you ever seen any one guillotined?"

"No."

"Well, to-morrow, if it will amuse you, you can have the pleasure; there are twenty-two to be disposed of. There will be all kinds, from officers to grooms. And now let us arrange about your quarters. It will not take long." He showed the boy a mattress upon the floor. "That is my bed," said he. Then, pointing to another, "That one belongs to citizen Reignac, chief secretary of the staff." Here he rang, and a soldier appeared. "A mattress," ordered the general.

Five minutes later the soldier returned with a mattress. Pichegru pointed out the spot where he wished it to be placed.

"And there is yours," he said. Then, opening a closet, he continued, "This closet you will have for yourself. No one will put anything in it that does not belong to you, and you must not put anything in any closet that is not yours. As your bundle is not large, I think it will answer. If you have anything that you value particularly, carry it about with you; that is the safest way. Not that you risk having it stolen, but you risk leaving it behind you when the order comes for a hurried departure, whether it be to advance or to retreat."

"General," said the boy, ingenuously, "I had nothing precious except my father's letter to you, and you have that now."

"Then kiss me and unpack your belongings; I must get back to my map."

As he turned toward the table, he caught sight of two men talking in the corridor opposite his door.

"Ah!" he said. "Come in, citizen Ballu; come in, citizen Dumont! I want you to meet a guest who has just arrived." And he pointed to Charles. Then, as they both looked at him without recognizing him, Pichegru continued: "My dear compatriots, thank this child; he sent you the warning which has kept your heads on your shoulders until to-day."

"Charles!" they both cried at once, embracing him and pressing him to their hearts. "Our wives and our children shall know your name to love and bless it."

While Charles was replying as best he could to this effusion, a young man entered, and, in excellent Latin, asked Pichegru whether he could grant him an interview of a quarter of an hour.

Pichegru, much astonished by this greeting, replied in the same language that he was at his disposal.

Opening the door of a smaller room, he signed to the stranger to enter it, and followed him: then, thinking that the man had something confidential to confide to him, he closed the door behind him.

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XIX. THE SPY

Pichegru threw a rapid and questioning glance at the new-comer; but sharp and piercing as it was, it failed to tell him to what nationality he belonged. His appearance was that of a man who has come a long distance, and has walked much of the way. He wore a fox-skin cap and a blouse made of goat-skin, secured at the waist by a leather belt; the sleeves of a striped woollen vest showed through the openings at the upper part of this blouse, of which the hairy side was turned in; and his long boots, of which the soles were in a bad state, came up to his knees.

There was no hint of his nationality in all this. But his fair hair, his clear blue eye, firm even to fierceness, his flaxen mustache, his determined chin and broad jaws, convinced Pichegru that he belonged to one of the northern races.

The young man suffered this examination in a silence which seemed to defy Pichegru's scrutiny.

"Hungarian or Russian?" asked Pichegru in French.

"Polish," replied the young man, laconically, in the same language.

"An exile then?" asked Pichegru.

"Worse than that!"

"Poor people! So brave and so unfortunate!" and he held out his hand to the young man.

"Wait," said the latter; "before doing me this honor, you must know--"

"Every Pole is brave," said Pichegru. "Every exile has the right to the hand-clasp of a patriot."

But the Pole seemed to take a certain pride in refusing to accept this courtesy until he had proved that he had a right to it. He pulled out a little leathern bag which he wore upon his breast, as the Neapolitans wear their amulets, and took a folded paper from it.

"Do you know Kosciusko?" asked the young man, his eyes flashing as he spoke.

"Who does not know the hero of Dubienka?" exclaimed Pichegru.

"Then read that," said the Pole, handing him the note.

Pichegru took it and read as follows:

I recommend to all men who struggle for independence and the liberty of their country, this brave man, son of a brave man, brother of a brave man.

He was with me at Dubienka. T. KOSCIUSKO.

"You have a fine brevet of bravery there, sir," said Pichegru; "will you do me the honor to become my aide-de-camp?"

"I should not do you much service, and I should not be avenging myself; it is vengeance that I seek."

"And against whom--Russians, Austrians or Prussians?"

"Against all three, since they are all oppressing and devouring unhappy Poland; but I hate the Prussians most."

"Where do you come from?"

"Dantzic. I belong to the old Polish race which, after having lost Poland in 1308, reconquered it in 1454, and defended it against Etienne Battori in 1575. From that day Dantzic has always held a Polish party ready to revolt, and which did revolt at Kosciusko's first call. My brother, my father and I seized our guns and placed ourselves under his orders.

"Thus we, my father, my brother and myself, found ourselves among four thousand men who defended the fort of Dubienka for five days against sixteen thousand Russians, when we had had only one day to fortify it.

"Some time later Stanislas yielded to Catherine's will. Kosciusko, unwilling to become the accomplice of the Czarina's lover, sent in his resignation, and my father, my brother and I returned to Dantzic, where I resumed my studies.

"One morning we learned that Dantzic had been ceded to the Prussians. There were among us at least two thousand patriots who protested with one hand and took up arms with the other; this tearing asunder of our native land, this dismemberment of our dear Poland, seemed to us a direct appeal, after moral protestation, to material protestation--the protestation of blood with which it is necessary to water the nations in order that they may not die. We went to meet the body of Prussians who had come to take possession of the city; they were ten thousand in number, and we were eighteen hundred.

"A thousand of us remained upon the battlefield. In the three days that followed three hundred died of their wounds. Five hundred remained.

"All were equally guilty, but our adversaries were generous. They divided us into three classes: the first were to be shot; the second were to be hanged; the third escaped with their lives after having received fifty lashes.

"They had divided us according to our strength. Those who were the most severely wounded were to be shot; those who were slightly wounded were to be hanged; those who were well and sound were to receive fifty lashes. Thus they would preserve the memory all their lives of the chastisement deserved by every ungrateful wretch who refuses to throw himself into the open arms of Prussia.

"My dying father was shot. My brother, who had a broken thigh, was hanged. I, who had only a scratch on my shoulder, received fifty lashes.

"At the fortieth I fainted; but the officers were conscientious men, and, although I did not feel the blows, they completed the number, and then left me lying upon the place of punishment without paying any further attention to me. My sentence read that when I had received the fifty lashes I was free. The punishment had taken place in one of the courts of the citadel. When I recovered consciousness it was night; I saw around me a number of inanimate bodies that resembled corpses, but who were men who, like myself, had probably fainted. I found my clothing, but, with the exception of my shirt, I was not able to put them on my bleeding shoulders. I threw them over my arm and endeavored to locate myself. A light was burning a short distance from me; I thought it belonged to the guard at the gate and I made my way to it. The sentinel was at his wicket.

"'Your name?' he asked.

"I told him my name."

He consulted his list.

"'Here,' he said, 'is your passport.'

"I looked at it. It read, 'Good for the frontier.'

"'Then I cannot enter Dantzic?' I asked.

"'Not under pain of death.'

"I thought of my mother, bereaved of her husband and her sons; I uttered a sigh, committed her to God, and took up my march. I had no money, but fortunately in a secret fold of my pocketbook I had managed to save the note which Kosciusko had given me, and which I have shown you.

"I took my way through Custrin, Frankfort and Leipsic. As sailors are guided by the polar star so I looked to France, that beacon of liberty, and hastened toward it. Six weeks of hunger, fatigue, miseries, and humiliations were forgotten when I set foot in the holy land of liberty yesterday, all save the hope of vengeance. I threw myself upon my knees and blessed God that I was as strong as the crime of which I had been made the victim. In all your soldiers I saw brothers, not marching to the conquest of the world, but to the deliverance of the oppressed. A flag passed; I sprang toward it, asking permission of the officer to embrace this sacred emblem, the symbol of universal brotherhood. The officer hesitated.

"'Ah!' I cried, 'I am a Pole, and proscribed, and I have come nine hundred miles to join you. This flag is mine also. I have the right to kiss it, to press it to my heart, and to put my lips to it.'

"And I took it almost by force, and kissed it, saying: 'Be always pure, brilliant, and glorious, flag of the conquerors of the Bastile, flag of Valmy, of Jemmapes, and of Bercheim.'

"Oh! general, for a moment I felt no more fatigue; I forgot my shoulders so cruelly lacerated beneath the lash, my brother suspended to the gibbet, my father shot. I forgot all, even vengeance.

"To-day I come to you. I am trained in all things pertaining to science; I speak five languages equally well; I can pass for German, Russian, English, or French. I can penetrate in any disguise into towns, fortresses and headquarters; I can give news of everything, for I can draw plans. No material obstacle can stop me; ten times, when I was a child, I swam across the Vistula. In short, I am no longer a man, I am a thing; I call myself no longer Stephan Moinjki, but Vengeance!"

"And do you wish to be a spy?"

"Do you call that man a spy who is fearless, and who by his intelligence can do the most harm to the enemy?"

"Yes."

"Then I wish to be a spy."

"Do you know that you risk being shot if you are caught?"

"Like my father."

"Or hanged?"

"Like my brother."

"The least that can happen to you is to be whipped. Do you know that?"

With a rapid movement Stephan loosened his coat, drew his arm out of the sleeve, turned down his shirt, and showed his back covered with blue welts.

"As I have been," he answered, laughing.

"Remember that I offer you a place in my army as a lieutenant, or as an interpreter."

"And you, citizen-general, must remember that I, finding myself unworthy, have refused. In condemning me they have put me outside the pale of manhood. Well, I will strike them secretly."

"Very well. And now, what do you want?"

"Some money to buy other clothes, and your orders."

Pichegru stretched out his hand and took a folio of assignats and a pair of scissors from a chair. It was what he received every month for his expenses at the seat of war. The month was not more than half gone, but the folio was nearly used up.

He cut three days' pay, amounting to four hundred and fifty francs, from it and gave them to the spy.

"Buy some clothes with that," he said.

"That is too much: I shall only want peasant's clothes," said the Pole.

"Perhaps to-morrow you will be obliged to buy another disguise."

"Very well. And now your orders?"

"Listen carefully to what I have to say," said Pichegru, laying his hand on the young man's shoulder.

The young man listened with his eyes fastened upon Pichegru; it seemed as if he were trying to see as well as to hear the words.

"I am advised," resumed Pichegru, "that the army of the Moselle, commanded by Hoche, is about to join mine. This union accomplished, we shall attack Woerth, Froeschwiller and Reichsoffen. Well, I must know the number of men and cannon that defend these places as well as the best points of attack. You will be aided by the hatred that our peasants and the Alsatian bourgeois bear the Prussians."

"Shall I bring you the information here? Will you wait for it, or will you start to meet the army of the Moselle?"

"In three or four days you will probably hear firing in the direction of Marschwilier, Dawendorff, or Uberack; you may join me wherever I am."

Just then the door opened and a young man, about twenty-five or six, wearing a colonel's uniform, entered.

From his light hair and mustache, and ruddy complexion, it was plain to be seen that he was one of the many Irishmen who had taken service in France now that she was likely to go to war with England.

"Ah! is it you, my dear Macdonald," said Pichegru, making a sign to the young man, "I was just going to send for you; here is one of your Scotch or English countrymen."

"Neither the English nor the Scotch are my countrymen, general," said Macdonald. "I am Irish."

"I beg your pardon, colonel," said Pichegru, laughing, "I did not mean to insult you, I only meant that he speaks nothing but English, and, as I do not know it very well, I want to know what he is saying."

"Nothing is easier," replied Macdonald. Then, addressing the young man, he put several questions to him, to which the other replied without an instant's hesitation.

"Has he told you what he wants?" asked Pichegru.

"Yes," replied Macdonald; "he asks for a place in the commissary department."

"Then," Pichegru said to the Pole, "that is all I wanted to know. Do what you have been told, and do not forget anything. If you will be good enough to translate what I have said to him, Macdonald, you will be doing me a great service."

Macdonald repeated, word for word, in English, what the general had said. The pretended Englishman bowed and went out.

"Well," asked Pichegru, "how does he speak English?"

"Admirably," replied Macdonald; "he has a slight accent which makes me think that he comes rather from the provinces than from London or Dublin. Only one would have to be English or Irish to detect it."

"That is all I wanted to know," said Pichegru, with a laugh. And he returned to the large room, followed by Macdonald.

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XX. THE DYING MAN'S PROPHECY

Most of the officers attached to Pichegru's staff were away on some special service or reconnoissance when Charles reached headquarters.

On the following day, all the orders having been given for a speedy departure, and each one having returned, the breakfast-table was full. At the table, besides Colonel Macdonald, whom we have already seen, were seated four brigadier-generals, the citizens Lieber, Boursier, Michaud and Hermann; two staff-officers, the citizens Graume and Chaumette; and two aides-de-camp, the citizens Doumerc and Abatucci.

Doumerc was a captain of cavalry and about twenty-two years old; he was born in the neighborhood of Toulon, and, as far as physical excellence went, he was one of the finest men in the army. As for his courage, in those days bravery was not even considered a merit. He had one of those charming characters which enlivened the calm though somewhat cold serenity of Pichegru, who rarely took part in the conversation and who smiled as it were with his mind only.

Abatucci was a Corsican. At the age of fifteen he had been sent to the military school of Metz, and had become a lieutenant of artillery in 1789 and captain in 1792. It was while he held the latter rank that he was appointed aide-de-camp to Pichegru. He was a fine young man of twenty-two or three, and of acknowledged bravery. He was lithe and vigorous, with a bronzed complexion, which lent to his beauty, of the Greek type, an effect similar to that observed in the ancient medals; and this contrasted strangely with his spontaneous, almost childlike gayety.

Nothing could have been more enjoyable than were the meals of these young men, although the table resembled that of Lacedæmona. Woe to him who came late, whether detained by love or war; he found the dishes washed and the bottles empty, and had to eat his dry bread amid the laughter and jokes of his companions.

But not a week passed without leaving an empty place at the board. The general, as he entered, would notice it, and, by a gesture, order the cover of the absent one removed; he had died for his country. They drank to his memory, and all was over.

There was something of sovereign grandeur in this carelessness of life and forgetfulness of death.

The siege of Toulon had engaged the attention of the young men for the last few days almost as much as if they had been actors on the scene.

Toulon, it will be remembered, had been delivered to the English by Admiral Trogoff, whose name, we regret to say, we are not able to find in any encyclopedia; the names of traitors should be preserved.

M. Thiers, doubtless through patriotism, said that he was a Russian. Alas! he was a Breton.

The first news was not reassuring, and the young men, particularly those who were cavalry officers, had laughed heartily over General Cartaux's plan, which was embodied in the following lines:

The general body of artillery will bombard Toulon for three days; at the end of which time I shall attack it in three columns and take it.

Then the news came that General Dugommier had succeeded Cartaux. This inspired a little more confidence; but as he had returned from Martinique only two years before, and had been a general but eighteen months, he was an unknown quantity.

The last news received was that the siege had been begun according to all the rules of scientific warfare; that the artillery in particular was commanded by an officer of merit, and was doing efficient service. The natural result of all this was that the "Moniteur" was impatiently waited for each day.

It arrived just as they had finished breakfast. The general took it from the hands of the soldier who brought it in, and threw it across the table to Charles, saying: "Here, citizen secretary, this is a part of your duties; look and see if there is anything about Toulon."

Charles, blushing up to his eyes, opened the paper, and stopped at these words:

Letter from General Dugommier, dated at headquarters at Ollioules, 10th Frimaire, year II.

CITIZEN MINISTER--The day has been hot but fortunate. Two days ago an important battery opened fire on Malbosquet, and has done great damage to that post and its surroundings. This morning at five o'clock the enemy made a vigorous sortie, by which at first they carried all our advance posts to the left of this battery. At the first firing we were all swiftly transferred to the left wing.

I found almost all our forces in flight. General Garnier complained that his troops had abandoned him, and I ordered him to rally them and to report ready to retake our battery. I took command of the third battalion of the Iser, hoping to reach the same battery by another way. We were fortunate enough to succeed, and the position was soon recovered. The enemy, repulsed, retreated on every side, leaving a large number of wounded and dead. This sortie cost their army more than twelve hundred in killed, wounded, and prisoners; among the latter were several officers of superior rank, including their general-in-chief, O'Hara, who was wounded in the right arm.

Both generals were wounded in this action. I received two severe contusions--one in the right arm and another in the shoulder--neither of which is dangerous. After having repulsed the enemy, our Republicans, by a courageous but disorderly movement, marched toward Malbosquet, covered by the formidable fire of this fort. They captured the tents of a camp which had been abandoned in consequence of their intrepid movement. This action, which is a great triumph for the arms of the Republic, is an excellent augury for future operations; for what can we not attain by a concerted and organized attack, when we have done so well with an improvised one?

I cannot sufficiently extol the conduct of all those who fought. Among those who particularly distinguished themselves, and who were of the most assistance to me in rallying the forces for the advance, were citizens Buona Parte, commanding the artillery, and Aréna and Cervoni, adjutant-generals. DUGOMMIER, General-in-Chief.

"Buona Parte," said Pichegru; "that must be the young Corsican to whom I was tutor, who showed such a marked talent for mathematics."

"There is a family named Buonaparte in Ajaccio," said Abatucci, "whose head, Charles de Buonaparte, was aide in Paoli's camp; they are cousins, these Buonapartes."

"The deuce," said Doumerc, "you are all cousins in Corsica."

"If it is the Buonaparte I mean," said Pichegru, "he is a young man five feet one or two inches tall, with straight hair plastered down at the temples, who did not know a word of French when he came to Brienne; he was of a misanthropic solitary turn of mind, strongly opposed to the union of Corsica with France, and a great admirer of Paoli. In two or three years he learned all that Father Patrault--by the way, Charles, he was the protector of your friend Euloge Schneider--could teach."

"Only," continued Abatucci, "they do not write the name as the 'Moniteur' has it, cut in two in the middle--it is simply Buonaparte."

A loud noise was heard at this point of the conversation, and every one hastened to the window overlooking the Rue de Strasbourg.

They were so near the enemy that they expected a surprise at every moment. They all seized their swords. Doumerc, who was nearer the window than the others, not only picked up his sword, but sprang out of the window, and rushed up the street to a turning where he could see the whole length of the road. But when he reached it, he shrugged his shoulders in token of disappointment, and returned to his companions with slow steps, and bent head.

"What is it?" asked Pichegru.

"Nothing, general, except the unfortunate Eisemberg and his staff on their way to the guillotine."

"But," said Pichegru, "are they not going straight to the citadel? We have always been spared this sight hitherto."

"That is true, general, but they have resolved to strike a blow this time that will send terror to the hearts of the soldiers. The execution of a general and his staff is such a good example for all the other generals and their staffs, that it has been judged advisable to have us all present at the spectacle."

"But," hazarded Charles timidly, "those were not sounds of sorrow but bursts of laughter that I heard."

A soldier coming from the same direction as the procession chanced to pass at this moment; the general recognized in him a man from the village of Arbois. He was a chasseur in the eighth regiment named Falou. The general called him by name.

The chasseur stopped short, looked to see who had called him, turned on his heel, and saluted.

"Come here," said the general.

The chasseur approached him.

"What is the cause of this laughter?" asked Pichegru. "The people are not insulting the condemned men, are they?"

"Quite on the contrary, general, they are pitying them."

"But what is the meaning of those bursts of laughter then?"

"It is not their fault, general; he would make a mile-stone laugh!"

"Who?"

"The surgeon Figeac, who is to be guillotined; he is cracking so many jokes from the top of the cart that even the condemned men are convulsed with laughter."

The general and his companions looked at each other.

"The time seems to me rather ill-chosen for mirth," said Pichegru.

"Well, he seems to have found a laughable side to death."

Just then the advance-guard of the procession came in sight, the men laughing heartily--not with a savage and insulting laugh, but with one that was natural and hearty. The immense cart, which was carrying twenty-two prisoners, bound two and two, to the execution, came in sight almost immediately. Pichegru stepped back, but Eisemberg called to him in a loud voice.

Pichegru paused.

Figeac, seeing that Eisemberg wished to speak, was silent, and the laughter ceased almost immediately. Eisemberg moved forward, dragging the man to whom he was bound with him, and standing up, said: "Pichegru, listen to me."

Those of the young men who had their caps or their hats on their heads removed them; Falou stood close to the window saluting.

"Pichegru," said the unhappy general, "I am going to die, and I shall gladly leave you the honors which your courage will bring you. I know that you do justice to my loyalty, that has been betrayed by the fate of war, and that you have secretly pitied me in my misfortune. I should like to predict a better end for you than mine, but you may not hope for it. Houchard and Custine are dead, I am to die, Beauharnais will die, and you will die like us. The people to whom you have devoted your sword are not sparing of the blood of their defenders, and if the hostile bullets spare you, you will not escape the executioner. Farewell, Pichegru! May Heaven preserve you from the jealousy of tyrants and the false justice of assassins. Farewell, my friend! Go on, now, you."

Pichegru greeted him with his hand, shut the window, and entered his room with his head bent and his arms folded, as if Eisemberg's words weighed heavy on his mind.

Then, suddenly raising his head, and addressing the young men who were looking at him in silence, he said: "Who among you knows Greek! I will give my best Cummer pipe to the one who can tell me the name of the Greek author who speaks of the prophecies of dying men."

"I know a little Greek, general," said Charles, "but I do not smoke at all."

"Well, then I will give you something that will please you more than a pipe."

"Well, general," said Charles, "it is Aristophanes, in a passage which may be translated somewhat as follows: 'Dying Hoary-heads have the souls of Sybils.'"

"Bravo," said Pichegru, patting his cheek, "to-morrow, or the day after, you shall have what I promised you." Then, turning to his aides-de-camp, he said, "Come, children, I am tired of these butcheries; we will leave Auenheim in two hours, and try to reach Drusenheim with our advance-posts. Death is but a trifle anywhere, and it becomes a pleasure on the battlefield. Therefore let us fight."

Just then a government despatch was handed to Pichegru. It contained an order to join the Army of the Moselle, and to consider Hoche, who was commanding it, as his superior officer. The two armies, once this union had been effected, were to attack ceaselessly until the lines of Wissembourg had been retaken.

It was not necessary to change the orders already given. Pichegru put the despatch in his pocket, and knowing that the spy, Stephan, was waiting for him in his cabinet, he went in there, saying as he did so: "Citizens, hold yourselves in readiness to start at the first sound of the trumpet and the first roll of the drum."

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XXI. THE NIGHT BEFORE THE BATTLE

Pichegru proposed to recover the ground lost by his predecessor at the battle of Haguenau, which had followed the evacuation of the lines of Wissembourg. At that time General Carles had been obliged to move his headquarters across the river from Souffel to Schiltigheim; that is to say, to the very gates of Strasbourg.

It was there that Pichegru, chosen because of his plebeian birth, had taken command of the army, and, thanks to several successful actions, had carried his headquarters as far as Auenheim. For the same reason--plebeian birth--Hoche had been appointed to the command of the Army of the Moselle, and had been ordered to combine his movements with those of Pichegru.

The first battle of any importance was fought at Bercheim; it was there that they had captured the Comte de Sainte-Hermine, in a charge in which his horse had been killed under him. The Prince de Condé had his headquarters at Bercheim; and Pichegru, wishing to try the enemy's columns, while avoiding a general action, had attacked this position.

Repulsed the first time, he had renewed the attack by sending a body of skirmishers, divided into small companies, against the Prince de Condé the next day. These skirmishers, after harassing the enemy for a long time, united at a given signal, and, forming in a column, fell upon the village of Bercheim and took it. But struggles between Frenchmen do not end so easily. The Prince de Condé was behind the village with the battalions of nobles composing the infantry of his army; he made an assault at their head, attacked the Republicans in Bercheim, and made himself master of the village. Pichegru then sent his cavalry to the assistance of the skirmishers; the prince ordered his own to charge, and the two regiments fought with the violence of hate. The advantage remained with the royalist cavalry, which was better mounted than its opponents; the Republicans retreated, abandoning seven cannon and nine hundred men lost.

On their side the royalists lost three hundred cavalry and nine hundred infantry. The Duc de Bourbon, the Prince de Condé's son, was shot down just as he reached Bercheim, and his aides-de-camp were almost all killed or dangerously wounded. But Pichegru would not acknowledge himself beaten; the next day he attacked General Klénau's troops, who occupied a position near Bercheim. The enemy retreated at the first charge, but the Prince de Condé sent them a reinforcement of royalists, both cavalry and infantry.

The struggle became more deadly, and lasted for some time without any perceptible advantage on either side; finally the enemy retreated for the second time, and retired behind Haguenau, leaving the royalists exposed. The Prince de Condé deemed it imprudent to attempt to hold the position any longer, and retreated in good order; and the Republicans entered Bercheim behind him.

The news of the victory arrived at the same time as that of the defeat, and the one counterbalanced the other. Pichegru breathed more easily; the iron belt which was stifling Strasbourg was relieved by one notch.

This time, as Pichegru said, it was more to get away from Auenheim than to resume strategic movements that the army took up its march. However, as it would be necessary some day to recapture Haguenau, which was then occupied by the Austrians, they were, in passing, to attack the village of Dawendorff.

A belt of forest in the shape of a horseshoe, extended from Auenheim to Dawendorff; at eight o'clock in the evening, on a dark but fine winter's night, Pichegru gave the order to start. Charles, without being a good rider, could mount a horse. The general placed him paternally in the midst of his staff, and enjoined them all to look out for him. The army set off silently, for they intended to surprise the enemy.

The battalion of the Indre formed the advance-guard.

During the evening Pichegru had had the forest explored, and had been told that it was unguarded. At two in the morning they arrived at the extremity of the horseshoe-shaped forest. They were separated from the village of Dawendorff by about three miles of woodland. Pichegru gave the order to halt and bivouac.

It was impossible to leave the men without a fire on such a night, and, at the risk of being discovered, Pichegru gave the order for the men to light piles of wood, around which they bivouacked. They had about four hours before them.

During the entire march the general had kept his eye on Charles, to whom he had given a trumpeter's horse, with a saddle that was both high in front and back, and covered with sheepskin, so that it afforded a solid seat even for the most inexperienced rider. But Pichegru saw with pleasure that his young secretary placed himself unhesitatingly in the saddle, and had managed his horse without awkwardness. When they reached the encampment, he himself showed him how to unsaddle and picket his horse, and make a pillow of the saddle. A good riding-coat, which had been put in his portmanteau at the general's direction, made a comfortable mattress and covering.

Charles, who had not lost his religious feelings in the midst of this age of irreligion, said his silent prayer, and went to sleep as peacefully as he would have done in his own room at Besançon.

Advance posts placed in the woods, and as sentinels on the flanks, which were relieved every half hour, watched over the safety of the little army. About four o'clock they were awakened by a shot fired by one of the sentinels, and, in an instant, every one was on his feet.

Pichegru glanced at Charles; he had run to his horse, taken the pistols from their holsters, and returned to the general's side, where he remained standing with a pistol in either hand.

The general sent twenty men in the direction whence the shot had been fired; as the sentinel had not repeated the shot, the probability was that he had been killed. But when they approached the spot where he had been posted, the men heard him calling for help; they hastened their steps, and saw, not men, but beasts, who were put to flight by their appearance.

The sentinel had been attacked by a band of five or six famished wolves, who had at first prowled around him, and then, seeing that he stood perfectly still, had become bolder. In order not to be attacked from behind, he had put his back to a tree and for a time had defended himself silently with his bayonet; but finally a wolf had seized the bayonet in his teeth, and then the sentinel had fired upon him, shooting the beast through the head. The wolves, frightened by the report, had at first slunk away, but then, driven by hunger, they had returned, perhaps as much for the sake of eating their comrade as to attack the sentinel. They came back so swiftly that the soldier had not had time to reload his gun. He had therefore defended himself as best he could, and they had already made several attempts to bite him when his comrades came to his aid and drove away the unexpected enemy.

The sub-lieutenant who commanded the squad left four men on guard in the sentinel's place and returned to the camp, taking with him as trophies the skins of the two wolves, the one killed by a bullet, the other by a bayonet. The skins, thickly furred for the winter time, were to be made into rugs for the general.

The soldier was taken before Pichegru, who received him coldly, thinking that the shot was due to carelessness; his brow grew darker and darker as he listened, and learned that the soldier had fired to defend himself from the wolves.

"Do you know," said he, "that I ought to have you shot for firing upon anything except the enemy?"

"But what should I have done, general?" asked the poor devil, so ingenuously that the general smiled in spite of himself.

"You ought to have allowed yourself to be eaten to the last morsel rather than have fired a shot which might have alarmed the enemy, and which has aroused the whole army."

"I did think of that, general; and you see that the rascals began;" and he showed his bleeding arms and cheeks. "But I said to myself, 'Faraud (that is my name, general), they have placed you here to prevent the enemy from passing, and they count on you to prevent them from passing.'"

"Well?" asked Pichegru.

"Well, if I had been eaten, general, there would have been no one to prevent the enemy from passing; it was that thought which determined me to fire. I give you my word of honor that the question of personal safety did not come till later."

"But this shot may have awakened the enemy's advance-posts."

"Don't worry about that, general; if they heard it, they have taken it for a mere poacher's shot."

"Are you a Parisian?"

"Yes, but I belong to the first battalion of the Indre; I am a volunteer."

"Well, Faraud, the only advice I have to give you is not to let me see you again until you have won your corporal's stripes, so that I may forget the breach of discipline which you have committed to-day."

"What shall I do to win them, general?"

"You must bring two Prussian prisoners to your captain to-morrow, or rather, to-day."

"Soldiers or officers, general?"

"Officers would be better, but privates will do."

"I shall do my best, general."

"Who has some brandy?" asked Pichegru.

"I have," said Doumerc.

"Well, give this coward a drink; he has promised to bring us two prisoners to-morrow."

"Suppose I only make one, general?"

"Then you will only be half a corporal, and will only have one stripe to wear."

"Oh! that would make me squint! To-morrow evening I shall have them both, general, or you may say, 'Faraud is dead.' To your health, general!"

"General," said Charles to Pichegru, "it was with words like those that Cæsar made his Gauls invincible."

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XXII. THE BATTLE

The army was awake and desirous of marching; and as it was nearly five o'clock, the general gave the order to start, telling the soldiers that they should breakfast at Dawendorff, and that they were to have a double ration of brandy.

Skirmishers were thrown out to capture the sentinels as they passed; then they left the woods in three columns, one of which seized and occupied Kaltenhausen, while the other two, to the right and left of the village, drawing their light artillery after them, spread out over the plain, and marched straight for Dawendorff.

The enemy had been surprised in Kaltenhausen, and had therefore made little resistance; but the firing had given the alarm to Dawendorff, and the troops could be seen drawn up in line of battle.

A slight eminence rose at a distance of about half a cannon-shot from the village; the general put his horse to a gallop, and, followed by his staff, gained the summit of the rise, whence he could see the whole field of battle.

When he left, he directed General Macdonald to take the first battalion of the Indre, which formed the head of the column, and dislodge the enemy from Dawendorff.

He kept the eighth chasseurs near him as a reserve, and in front he posted a battery of six guns. The battalion of the Indre, followed by the rest of the army, strategically disposed, marched straight upon the enemy. Intrenchments had been thrown up outside the village. When the Republicans were not more than two hundred yards away, Pichegru made a sign, and his artillery covered the breastworks with a leaden hail. The Prussians on their side replied with a well-directed fire, which killed about fifty. But the brave battalions which formed the attacking column went steadily forward, and, preceded by beating drums, charged the enemy with the bayonet.

Already harassed by the grape-shot which the general had turned upon them, the enemy abandoned the intrenchments, and the Republicans poured into the village with the Prussians. But in the meantime two large bodies of troops appeared on either side of the village; they were the royalist cavalry and infantry, commanded by the Prince de Condé and the Duc de Bourbon. The two bodies threatened to attack the little army in the rear, as it stood ranged in battle, as it were, behind the battalion of the Indre, of which a part was following it.

Pichegru immediately despatched Captain Gaume, one of his aides-de-camp, to order General Michaud, who commanded the centre, to form his men in a hollow square, and to receive the enemy's charge with the bayonet.

Then calling Abatucci on the other side, he ordered him to put himself at the head of the second regiment of chasseurs and to charge the royalist infantry when he judged that the grape-shot had thrown their lines into sufficient disorder.

From the top of the little hill where he stood fearlessly beside the general, Charles saw, below him, Pichegru and the Prince de Condé, or, in other words, the revolution and the counter-revolution, play at that terrible game of chess which is called war.

He saw Captain Gaume cross at a gallop the broad open space which lay to the left of the hill occupied by Pichegru, to carry the general-in-chief's order to the adjutant-general, Michaud, who had at that very moment perceived that his left was threatened by the Prince de Condé and had anticipated the order sent him.

On the right he saw Captain Abatucci take the head of the chasseurs, and descend the hill at a gentle trot, while three volleys of the cannon, fired one after the other, raked the mass of infantry which was approaching.

There was a movement of hesitation in the royalist ranks by which Abatucci profited. He ordered his men to draw their swords, and on the instant six hundred blades glittered in the rays of the sun.

The Duc de Bourbon attempted to form his men into a square, but either the confusion was too great or the order was given too late. The charge came like the deluge of a waterspout, and cavalry and infantry were seen fighting hand to hand, while, on the other side, Adjutant-General Michaud's men fired when they were not twenty-five feet away.

It would be impossible to describe the effect of this volley, fired at such close quarters. More than a hundred riders fell, some, impelled by their own momentum, rolling as far as the first ranks of the square. The prince then retired to reform his cavalry out of range of the cannon-shot.

At the same moment the battalion of the Indre was seen to retreat, although slowly. They had found the village occupied in force, and had been received by firing from every window, and also from two pieces of cannon which were set up within the village as a battery. The regiment had been obliged to fall back.

The general sent his fourth aide-de-camp, Chaumette, at full gallop to find out what had happened and to direct Macdonald to hold the position at any cost.

Chaumette crossed the field under fire of both the royalists and the Republicans, and halted within a few feet of the intrenchments to deliver his message. Macdonald replied that he certainly should not yield the position, and that furthermore, as soon as the men had taken breath, he should make a new attempt to recapture the village of Dawendorff. But in order to facilitate the success of the movement he wished that some diversion could be made to draw off the enemy's attention for a few moments.

Chaumette returned to Pichegru, who was stationed so near the battlefield that it took only a few moments to deliver his messages and return to him with the answers.

"Take twenty-five chasseurs and four trumpeters from Abatucci," said Pichegru; "go round the village and enter the street opposite to where Doumerc will charge; have the trumpets blown as loudly as possible while Macdonald charges; the enemy will thus think it is caught between two fires and will yield."

Chaumette rode down the slope of the hill again, reached Abatucci, exchanged a few words with him, took the twenty-five men, and sent another to tell Macdonald to charge, and that he was to attack the enemy in the rear at the same time.

Macdonald immediately raised his sword, the drums beat the charge, and, amid a terrible rattle of musketry, he boldly re-entered the village. Almost at the same moment Chaumette's trumpets were heard at the other end of the village.

The disorder now became general. The Prince de Condé turned upon Michaud and his battalion, which had formed in a square. The royalist infantry began to beat a retreat before Abatucci and the eighth chasseurs; and Pichegru sent half of his reserve, about four or five hundred men, to the assistance of the battalion of the Indre, keeping the other four or five hundred with him to use in case of some unexpected emergency. As the royalist infantry retreated they fired a last volley, not at Abatucci and his chasseurs, but at the group upon the hill, where the Republican general was easily recognized by his plume and his gold epaulets.

Two men fell. The general's horse, struck in the chest, leaped in the air. Charles uttered a sigh and fell forward in his saddle.

"Ah! poor child!" cried Pichegru; "Larrey, Larrey!"

A young surgeon about twenty-six or seven approached. They held the boy upon his horse, and, as in falling he had pressed his hand to his breast, they opened his vest. The general's surprise was great when they discovered a foraging cap between the waistcoat and his shirt. They shook the cap and a bullet fell out.

"It is useless to seek further," said the surgeon; "the shirt is intact and there is no blood. The boy is not strong and the violence of the blow has made him faint. This foraging cap, which would have been of no protection in its proper place, has saved his life here. Give him some brandy and he will be all right."

"How strange," said Pichegru; "this cap belongs to the chasseurs of Condé's army."

Just then Charles revived, and his first movement, on coming to himself, was to look for the foraging cap. He was about to ask for it when he saw it in the general's hand. "Ah! general," he said, "pardon me."

"You may well ask pardon for having given us such a fright."

"Oh! not that," said Charles, smiling and pointing to the cap which Pichegru held in his hand.

"You must explain this to me," said Pichegru.

Charles came close to the general and said in a low voice: "That belongs to the Comte de Sainte-Hermine, that young noble who was shot; and when he was dying he asked me to give it to his family."

"But," said Pichegru, feeling it, "there is a letter inside."

"Yes, general; to his brother. The poor fellow feared it might be lost if he gave it to a stranger."

"While in confiding it to some one from his own part of the country he had nothing to fear, I suppose."

"Have I done wrong, general?"

"It is never wrong to fulfil the wish of a dying man, particularly when that wish is an honorable one. I may even say that it is a sacred duty to do so as soon as possible."

"But I shall probably not return to Besançon at once."

"If I try, perhaps I can find some excuse for sending you there."

"Not because you are displeased with, me, general?" asked the boy, with tears in his eyes.

"No; I will give you some commission which shall prove to your compatriots that the Jura has still another boy in the service of the Republic. Now let us see what is going on yonder."

In a few moments Charles forgot his own accident as his eyes wandered over the battlefield and the town; he held his breath in the absorbing interest of the sight, and, touching the general on the arm, pointed to the men running over roofs, jumping out of windows, and climbing over garden walls in their haste to reach the plain.

"Good," said Pichegru, "we are masters of the town, and the day is ours." Then, turning to Lieber, the only one of his officers near him, he said: "Take command of the reserve and prevent these men from rallying."

Lieber put himself at the head of the four or five hundred men and descended upon the village.

"Now," continued Pichegru with his usual calmness, "let us go to the village and see what is happening."

And accompanied only by twenty-five or thirty chasseurs of the rear-guard, together with General Boursier and Charles, he set off at a gallop on the road to Dawendorff.

Charles cast a last glance at the plain; the enemy were fleeing in all directions. This was the first time that he had seen a battle; he was now to see a battlefield. He had seen the poetical side--the movement, the fire, the smoke; but the distance had concealed all the details. He was now to see the hideous side--the agony, the immobility of death: he was about to enter upon the bloody reality.

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XXIII. AFTER THE BATTLE

The short distance that the little troop was obliged to cover in order to reach the plain was entirely bare, except for the wounded, the dead, and the dying. The fight had lasted barely an hour and a half, but more than fifteen hundred men lay strewn upon the battlefield.

Charles approached the line of dead with a certain degree of apprehension; at the first corpse that his horse encountered the animal shied so violently that the boy was nearly thrown. Pichegru's horse, held in better check, or perhaps better accustomed to such scenes, leaped over the obstacles; in time Charles's horse was forced to follow his example and to leap over the dead.

It was not, however, the dead that made the most impression upon Charles, but the wounded, who sought to drag themselves from beneath the hoofs of the horses of the general and his staff, by a supreme effort, or lay horribly mutilated and muttering, the death-rattle in their throats: "Comrades, for mercy's sake despatch me! despatch me!"

Others again, those who were not so grievously wounded, raised themselves upon their elbows, and, waving their caps, cried: "Long live the Republic!"

"Is this the first time that you have ever seen a battlefield?" asked Pichegru.

"No, general," replied the boy.

"Where have you seen one before?"

"In Tacitus--that of Teutberg, with Germanicus and Cecina."

"Ah, yes," replied Pichegru, "I remember: it is when Germanicus, just before he reaches the forest, finds the eagle of the nineteenth legion which was lost with Varus."

"And do you remember that passage, general, which I understand so well now--'All the army were filled with pity as they thought of relatives, friends, the chances of war, and the destiny of men'?"

"Yes," said Pichegru. "'There were,' said Tacitus, 'in the midst of the vast clearing, whitening bones scattered where the men had fled, and lying in heaps where they had fought.' Oh! I wish I could remember the Latin text, which no translation can equal; wait: 'Medio--'"

"I remember it, general," said Charles; "'Medio campi albentia ossa ut fugerant, ut resisterant.'"

"Well done, Charles," said Pichegru; "your father made me a fine gift when he sent you to me!"

"General," asked Charles, "are you not going to send help to these poor wounded men?"

"Don't you see the surgeons who are going from one to the other, regardless of whether they are friends or enemies? We have gained at least this much in eighteen hundred years of civilization; we do not cut the throats of prisoners upon the altars of Teutates, as in the time of Armin and Marbod."

"And," said Charles, "the conquered generals are not obliged to kill themselves like Varus, infelice dextra."

"Do you think," said Pichegru, laughing, "that it is preferable to be sent to the Revolutionary tribunal like that poor Eisemberg, whose head is constantly before my eyes and whose words are constantly in my mind?"

While they were thus talking they had entered the town. Perhaps the sight was even more terrible there, because the carnage was confined to a smaller space. The fighting had been carried on from house to house. Before trying to escape from the roofs and windows, the Prussians, and particularly a small body of royalists who had remained in the town, had made a desperate defence. When their cartridges were exhausted they had seized upon any weapon that came to hand, and had thrown cupboards, bureaus, chairs, and even marbles from the mantel down upon their assailants from the third story windows. Some of the houses were on fire, and as there was nothing left inside to burn, their ruined proprietors, judging it useless to stop the conflagration, stood and watched their possessions burn.

Pichegru gave directions that fires should be put out as soon as possible, and then he went to the town-hall, where he always chose to lodge when on a campaign. There he received his reports.

On entering the court he perceived an ammunition wagon, carefully guarded, bearing the blue coat of arms and the three fleur-de-lis of France; it had been captured at M. de Condé's lodgings. Thinking it of importance, it had been brought to the town-hall, where, as we have said, the general was to lodge.

"Very good," said Pichegru, "I will have the wagon opened in the presence of the staff."

He dismounted, went upstairs, and took up his quarters in the council-chamber, where the officers who had taken part in the engagement arrived one after the other.

The first to come was Captain Gaume. Desiring to take part in the engagement, he had joined the square formed by General Michaud's command, and after three charges, as boldly executed as they were useless, he had seen the Prince de Condé retreat, by a wide circle, in the direction of Haguenau, leaving about two hundred of his men upon the field of battle.

General Michaud was providing lodgings for his soldiers, and had given orders for rations of bread to be cooked and sent to the neighboring villages from Dawendorff.

Then came Chaumette. In pursuance of the general's orders, he had taken his twenty-five men and entered the village at the other end, sounding the charge as boldly as if he had been at the head of six hundred men. The ruse had succeeded; the Prussians and the small body of royalists who were defending the town, believing themselves attacked in front and in the rear at the same time, had fled over the roofs of the houses, as Charles had pointed out to the general.

The next to arrive was Abatucci. He had received a sword-cut in his cheek, and his shoulder, moreover, had been dislocated. The general had noted the splendid courage with which he had charged at the head of his chasseurs; but when they reached the Prussians, the encounter had become a hand-to-hand fight and the individuals had been lost sight of.

Abatucci's horse had been struck by a bullet in the head and had fallen. While endeavoring to extricate himself, Abatucci had been struck by a sabre and had his shoulder dislocated. For a moment he thought himself lost; but a detachment of chasseurs had saved him. Nevertheless, on foot, in the midst of this terrible disorder, he had been in the greatest danger, until the chasseur Falou, the one the general had questioned the previous evening about Eisemberg, had brought him a horse which he had taken from an officer whom he had killed. At such times there is little time for words; Abatucci had grasped the reins with one hand, while with the other he had offered his purse to the chasseur. The latter refused the officer's gift, and as he was carried away by the rush of the combat, Abatucci called after him: "We shall meet again!"

Consequently when he entered the town-hall, Abatucci instituted a search for the chasseur. The young aide-de-camp's force had killed about two hundred men and captured one flag, while they themselves had lost only about eight or ten men.

Macdonald waited until Abatucci had finished his report before beginning his. At the head of the battalion of the Indre he had borne the brunt of the battle, receiving at first the fire from the intrenchments, and then entering the town. We know how he had been received there. Each house had vomited flames like a volcano; but in spite of the rain of bullets, which had greatly reduced his forces, he had continued to advance, until, turning into the principal street of the town, he had been confronted with two cannon, which had poured forth grape-shot at a distance of only five hundred feet. It was then that the battalion of the Indre had had to beat a retreat, and had fallen back without leaving the town.

True to his promise, Macdonald, after giving his men time to breathe, had re-entered the town, and, animated by the trumpets sounding at the other end of the village, his force reached the great square, intending to capture the two cannon. But the chasseurs had already taken possession of them.

From that moment the village of Dawendorff was won. Besides the two cannon, a military wagon, or caisson, as we have said, bearing the fleur-de-lis of France, had fallen into the hands of the victorious army.

The general, thinking that it might contain money belonging to the Prince de Condé, had given orders to have it opened in the presence of his staff.

Lieber arrived last. Followed by Abatucci's chasseurs, he had pursued the enemy for more than three miles, and had taken three hundred prisoners.

The day had been fortunate; they had slain about a thousand of the enemy, and upward of six hundred had been taken prisoner.

Larrey set Abatucci's dislocated shoulder.

The members of the staff being all present, they went down into the court and a locksmith was sent for. There was one near at hand, and he came shortly, bringing his instruments. In a moment the cover was raised; they found one of the compartments filled with long rolls like cartridges. They broke one and found that it contained gold. Each roll contained one hundred guineas--two thousand five hundred francs, stamped with the effigy of King George. There were three hundred and ten rolls, making in all seven hundred and seventy-five thousand francs.

"Faith!" said Pichegru, "this is wonderfully fortunate; we will use it to pay the soldiers. Are you there, Estève?"

Estève was the paymaster of the Army of the Rhine.

"Have you ascertained how much is due the men?"

"About five hundred thousand francs. I will show you my accounts."

"Take five hundred thousand francs at once, citizen Estève," said Pichegru, laughing, "and pay the men. You will use the ground floor for your office. I will take the next story."

The five hundred thousand francs were counted out to citizen Estève.

"Now," continued Pichegru, "there are twenty-five thousand francs to be divided among the battalion of the Indre, which has suffered the most."

"That is about thirty-nine francs for each man," said citizen Estève.

"You will keep fifty thousand francs for the need of the army."

"And the remaining two hundred thousand francs?"

"Abatucci shall carry them to the Convention, with the flag we have captured; it is well to show the world that Republicans do not fight for money. Let us go upstairs, citizens," continued Pichegru, "and leave citizen Estève to his work."

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XXIV. CITIZEN FENOUILLOT, COMMERCIAL TRAVELLER FOR CHAMPAGNE

Pichegru's valet de chambre, who had the good sense not to change his title for that of an official, and his name of Leblanc for that of Lerouge, had, in the meantime, set the table for breakfast, and covered it with the provisions which he had brought with him--a necessary precaution when, as now, they passed from the battlefield to the breakfast table.

Our young men, wearied, hungry, some of them even wounded, were not insensible to the prospect of breakfast, of which they felt the greatest need. But the cheers of satisfaction redoubled when they saw among a number of bottles, whose simplicity denoted their democratic origin, six others with silver collars, showing that they belonged to the best houses of Champagne.

Pichegru himself noticed it, and, turning to his valet, said with military freedom: "Ah, Leblanc, is it my birthday or yours? Or is it simply to celebrate our victory of to-day that we find such wine upon my table? Do you know that I should get my throat cut for this if it were reported to the Committee of Public Safety?"

"Citizen general," replied the valet, "those are not the reasons, although, for that matter, your victory deserves to be celebrated; and on a day when you have taken seven hundred and fifty thousand francs you may well drink twenty francs' worth of champagne without wronging the government. No, general, do not let your conscience trouble you; the champagne which you will drink to-day will cost neither you nor the government a penny."

"I hope, rascal," said Pichegru, laughing, "that it has not been stolen from some wine merchant, or pillaged from some cellar?"

"No, general, it was a patriotic gift."

"A patriotic gift?"

"Yes, from citizen Fenouillot."

"Who is citizen Fenouillot? Is that the lawyer at Besançon; for there is such a lawyer at Besançon, is there not, Charles?"

"Yes," replied the boy, "he is one of my father's best friends."

"He has nothing to do with lawyers, or with Besançon either for that matter," said Leblanc, who was permitted to speak freely with the general; "he is citizen Fenouillot, commercial traveller for the house of Fraissinet of Châlons, who, in gratitude for the service you have done him in delivering him out of the hands of the enemy, has sent you these six bottles of wine, so that you may drink them to your own health and to that of the Republic."

"Then your citizen Fenouillot was here with the enemy?"

"Certainly, since he was a prisoner, he and his samples."

"Do you hear, general?" asked Abatucci.

"Perhaps he might be able to give us some useful information," suggested Doumerc.

"Where does your citizen live?" asked Pichegru.

"Here, in the hotel to the left of the town-hall."

"Put on an extra plate--there, just opposite mine--and then go tell citizen Fenouillot that I request the pleasure of his company at breakfast with us. Gentlemen, take your customary places while we are waiting."

The officers seated themselves as usual, and Pichegru put Charles at his left.

Leblanc put on the extra plate and then went out.

Five minutes later he returned. He had found citizen Fenouillot just about to sit down to breakfast, but he had eagerly accepted the general's invitation. Consequently, he was following the messenger who had been sent for him; and, in fact, a moment after Leblanc had returned, some one knocked at the door, giving the Masonic raps.

Leblanc hastened to open it.

A man about thirty-five years of age stood upon the threshold, attired in the civilian's dress of that period--a pointed, broad-brimmed hat, a loose cravat, and a waistcoat with large lapels. He had on a brown coat with long skirts, tight, light-colored trousers and top boots; his complexion was fair and his hair curled naturally; he had brown eyebrows and whiskers, the latter half-hidden in his cravat. His eyes were bold, his nose was large and his lips were thin. As he entered the dining-room, Fenouillot hesitated slightly.

"Come in, citizen Fenouillot," said Pichegru, who had seen the hesitation, slight as it was.

"Upon my word," said the latter easily, "the thing was of so little consequence that I hesitated to believe that your kind invitation was intended for me."

"What of little consequence? Do you know that, with my allowance of five hundred francs a day, I should have to go three days without eating in order to afford fare like this? So sit down opposite me, citizen. Take your place!"

The two officers who were appointed to sit beside him moved their chairs and pointed to his. Citizen Fenouillot sat down, and the general cast a rapid glance at his snow-white linen and his carefully kept hands.

"And you were a prisoner when we entered Dawendorff?"

"About that, general. I did not know the road to Haguenau was invested until I was stopped by some Prussians, who were preparing to drink my samples when, happily, an officer arrived who took me to the commander-in-chief. I thought I had nothing more to fear than the loss of my samples, and was already consoling myself with that notion when the word 'spy' fell upon my ears. At that, as you can readily understand, I began to think, and then I asked to be taken to the commander of the royalists."

"The Prince de Condé?"

"I would have asked for the devil himself, as you can well imagine! They took me to the Prince, who examined my papers, and as I answered all his questions frankly, and he saw, after tasting my wine, that it was not of a kind that a dishonest man would carry, he told his allies, the Prussians, that I was a Frenchman, and that he would detain me as his prisoner."

"And was your detention hard?" asked Abatucci, while Pichegru regarded his guest with a scrutiny that showed he was rather inclined to share the Prussian general's opinion.

"Not at all," replied citizen Fenouillot; "the Prince and his son liked my wine, and they treated me with a consideration almost equal to that which you have shown me, although I must confess that when the news of the capitulation of Toulon arrived, yesterday, and I, as a good Frenchman, could not conceal my delight, the Prince, with whom I was talking at the time, dismissed me in a very bad humor."

"Ah, ha!" exclaimed Pichegru; "then Toulon has really been recaptured from the English?"

"Yes, general."

"What day was Toulon taken?"

"The 19th."

"And to-day is the 21st. Impossible! The devil! the Prince de Condé has not the telegraph at his disposal."

"No," replied the other; "but he has the pigeon-post, and carrier-pigeons travel forty-eight miles an hour. In short, the news came to Strasbourg, where pigeons abound, and I myself saw the little note in the Prince's hands. The note was small, having been fastened under the bird's wing, but the writing was fine, and therefore it contained several details."

"And do you know what they were?"

"The city capitulated on the 19th. That same day part of the besieging army entered, and, in the evening, by order of the commissioner of the Convention, two hundred and thirteen persons were shot."

"Is that all? Did it not mention a certain Buonaparte?"

"Yes, indeed; it said that the capture of the city was due to him."

"He is certainly my cousin," said Abatucci, laughing.

"And my pupil," added Pichegru. "Faith, so much the better! The Republic needs men of genius to offset such wretches as Fouché."

"Fouché?"

"Was it not Fouché who followed the French army to Lyons, and on the first day he was in power ordered two hundred and thirteen men shot?"

"Ah, yes; but that was at Lyons. At Toulon it is citizen Barras."

"And who is citizen Barras?"

"Only a deputy from the Var, who has served in India, and learned there to imitate the habits of the Nabobs. At the Convention he sits with the Mountain. At all events; it looks as if they were going to shoot all the population, and raze the town."

"Let them destroy and shoot! The sooner they do it, the quicker they will get through," said Pichegru. "Faith! I prefer our former good God to the modern Supreme Being who permits such horrors."

"And what do they say of my cousin Buonaparte?"

"They say that he is a young artillery officer," continued citizen Fenouillot, "and a friend of young Robespierre."

"Come, general," said Abatucci, "if he is on such good terms with the Jacobins as that, he will make his way and protect us in the bargain."

"Speaking of protection," said citizen Fenouillot, "is what the Duc de Bourbon told me when he was eulogizing you true?"

"Very kind of the Duc de Bourbon," said Pichegru, laughing. "What did he tell you?"

"That it was his father, the Prince de Condé, to whom you owed your first promotion."

"Yes," replied Pichegru.

"How was that?" asked three or four voices.

"I was serving as a common soldier in the royal artillery, when one day the Prince de Condé, who was present at the battery exercises at Besançon, came over to the gun which he considered the best managed; but while the gunner was sponging the piece it went off and shot away his arm. The prince attributed this accident to me, accusing me of not having properly closed the orifice with my thumb. I let him talk, and my only reply was to show him my bleeding hand. My thumb was turned back, and almost torn from the hand. Here," he continued, holding out his hand; "here is the scar. The prince forthwith promoted me to the rank of sergeant."

Little Charles, who was near the general, took his hand as if he wanted to examine it, and with a sudden movement stooped and kissed it.

"Why, what are you doing?" asked Pichegru, pulling his hand away quickly.

"I? Nothing," said Charles. "I admire you."

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XXV. CHASSEUR FALOU AND CORPORAL FARAUD

Just then the door opened, and the chasseur Falou appeared, led by two of his comrades.

"Your pardon, captain," said one of the soldiers to Abatucci; "but you said you wanted to see him, did you not?"

"Of course I want to see him."

"There, is it true?" asked the soldier.

"It must be so, as the captain says it is."

"Just imagine, he did not want to come; we had to drag him here by main force."

"Why didn't you want to come?" asked Abatucci.

"Oh! I thought it was just to say silly things to me."

"What do you mean?"

"See here, general; I will make you the judge."

"I am listening to you, Falou."

"Why, you know my name!" Then, turning to his comrades, he cried, "Say, the general knows my name."

"I have said that I am listening to you; what is it you wish to say?" asked the general.

"Well, general, this is how it happened; we were charging, weren't we?'

"Yes."

"My horse shied to avoid stepping on a wounded man--you know those animals are so intelligent."

"Yes, I know."

"And mine especially. I found myself face to face with one of those emigrated nobles. Ah! he was a fine young fellow, not more than twenty-two at the most. When he aimed a blow at my head I had to defend myself--"

"Certainly."

"And to return the blow; there was no other way, was there?"

"No, of course not."

"One doesn't need to be a provost to know that! He fell. He had swallowed more than six inches of steel."

"That was certainly more than he needed."

"Yes, general," said Falou, laughing at the joke he had in mind to say, "but one can't always stop to measure."

"I was not blaming you, Falou."

"Well, then, he fell, and there was a magnificent horse without a rider. I took him by the bridle, and just then I saw the captain, who had no horse at all, and so I said to myself: 'This horse belongs to the captain.' I put spurs to him, and he struggled like the devil in holy water in the midst of five or six aristocrats. I killed one and wounded another. 'Come, captain!' I called out to him, 'put your foot in the stirrup.' When his foot was in the stirrup it did not take him long to mount, and that's all there is to it."

"No, that is not all; for you cannot make me a present of a horse."

"Why can't I make you a present of a horse? Are you too proud to take it from me?"

"No; and to prove it, my brave fellow, will you do me the honor to put your hand there."

"The honor will be mine, captain," said Falou, advancing toward Abatucci.

The officer and the soldier clasped hands.

"Now I am paid, and I even owe you something; but no money, captain," said Falou.

"Very well; you have exposed your life for me, and--"

"Exposed my life for you?" cried Falou. "I defended it, that was all. Would you like to see how the aristocrat went? Here!"

Falou drew out his sword and showed the blade, of which an inch and a half was broken off.

"You can see that my hand was not weak; but we are well cared for, captain, and I shall get another sword. But sell you a horse--I, Falou? Never! Never!"

And Falou had already reached the door, when the general spoke to him.

"Come here, my brave fellow."

Falou turned around, trembling with emotion, and saluted.

"You are a Franc-Comtois?"

"A little, general."

"From what part?"

"Boussière."

"Are your parents still living?"

"I have an old mother. Can I call that parents?"

"Yes. And what does your old mother do?"

"Oh! poor dear woman, she knits my socks and spins my shirts."

"And how does she support herself?"

"With what I send her. But as the Republic is in debt, and my pay is five months in arrears, she cannot be getting along very well. But, thanks to the Prince de Condé's treasure wagon, we shall be paid up. Noble prince, how my mother will bless him!"

"What, your mother will bless an enemy of France?"

"How will she know the difference? The good God will know that she is in her dotage."

"Then you are going to send her your pay?"

"Oh! I shall keep a bit for a drop of wine."

"Keep it all."

"And the old woman?"

"I will take care of her."

"General," said Falou, shaking his head, "I don't understand."

"Let me see your sword."

Falou unbuckled his sword and handed it to the general.

"Oh!" said Falou, "it's in a sorry condition."

"In other words," said the general, drawing his from its scabbard, "it is not fit for use. Take mine." And Pichegru, unbuckling his own sword, gave it to him.

"But, general, what shall I do with your sword?"

"You will defend yourself, and return blow for blow."

"I should never dare to use it."

"Then you will let it be taken from you."

"I! I will defend it with my life." Then, putting the hilt of the sword to his lips, he kissed it.

"That will do. When the sword of honor that I have sent for comes, you can return me this one."

"Oh!" said Falou, "if it is all the same to you, general, I would rather keep this one."

"Well, then, keep it, animal; and do not put on so many airs."

"Oh! comrades!" cried Falou, darting out of the room, "the general called me animal, and gave me his sword! Long live the Republic!"

"Very fine," said a voice in the corridor; "but that is no reason for overturning your friends, particularly when they come as ambassadors to the general."

"What is the meaning of that?" said Pichegru. "Go see, Charles, and receive these ambassadors."

Charles, delighted to have an active share in the proceedings, darted to the door, and returned in a moment, saying: "General, they are delegates from the regiment of the Indre, who have come in the name of their comrades, with Corporal Faraud at their head."

"Who is Corporal Faraud?"

"The man of the wolves last night."

"But last night he was a common soldier."

"And now, general, he is a corporal; to be sure his stripes are made of paper."

"Paper stripes?" said the general, frowning.

"Oh! I don't know," said Charles.

"Admit the citizen delegates of the regiment of the Indre."

Two soldiers entered behind Faraud, who proudly displayed the paper stripes on his sleeves.

"What does this mean?" asked Pichegru.

"General," replied Faraud, carrying his hand to his cap, "we are delegates from the regiment of the Indre."

"Ah, yes," said Pichegru, "who have come to thank me for the favor I have just done them."

"On the contrary, general, we have come to refuse."

"To refuse? and why?" asked Pichegru.

"Confound it, general," said Faraud, with a twist of the neck peculiar to himself, "they say they fight for the glory of the Republic, for the preservation of the rights of man, and for nothing else. As for what they have done, they say it is no more than what their comrades have done, and they deserve no greater reward than the others. They have heard that they have only to go to citizen Estève to receive their back pay. If this incredible news is true, then that is all they want." And Faraud ended with the same peculiar twist of the neck by means of which he expressed all his emotions, whether sad or gay.

"Then they refuse?" asked Pichegru.

"Flatly," replied Faraud.

"And the dead," asked Pichegru; "do they refuse?"

"Who?"

"The dead."

"They have not been consulted, general."

"Then you may say to your comrades that I never take back what I have once given; the bounty money that I gave to the living will be distributed among the fathers and mothers, the brothers and sisters, the sons and daughters of the dead. Have you any objections to make to that?"

"None, general."

"That is fortunate. And now come here."

"I, general?" asked Faraud with a twist of the neck.

"Yes, you."

"Here I am, general."

"What are those sardines there?" asked Pichegru.

"Those are my corporal's stripes."

"Why paper?"

"Because we had no woollen stuff."

"Who made you a corporal?"

"My captain."

"What is your captain's name?"

"René Savary."

"I know him; he is a lad of nineteen or twenty."

"But who can strike hard just the same, general."

"Why did he make you a corporal?"

"You know well enough," said Faraud, with his customary gesture.

"Why no, I do not."

"You told me to make two prisoners."

"Well?"

"I made them; two Prussians."

"Is that true?"

"You can read it on my stripes"; and he raised his arm so that Pichegru could read the two lines of writing on them. He read:

Fusileer Faraud, of the Second Battalion of the Indre, has taken two Prussians prisoner; by reason of which I have appointed him corporal, subject to the approval of the commander-in-chief. RENÉ SAVARY.

"I really took three prisoners," said Faraud, coming closer to the general.

"Where is the third?"

"The third was a fine young man, an aristocrat. You would have had to shoot him, which would have pained you, or to spare him, which would have compromised you."

"Well? and so--"

"And so, I let him--I let him go; there!"

"Good," said Pichegru, with tears in his eyes, "I make you a sergeant."

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XXVI. THE PRINCE'S ENVOY

The chasseur Falou and the corporal Faraud have not, I hope, made you forget the citizen Fenouillot, commercial traveller for the house of Fraissinet at Châlons, nor the six bottles of champagne which he in his gratitude offered to Pichegru.

There was still one of these bottles to empty when the general returned to his place at table. Citizen Fenouillot opened it, or rather tried to do so, but in so unskilful a manner that Pichegru smiled and took the bottle from his hand; then cutting the cords, he opened the wires with the thumb of his left hand, which had retained all its strength.

"Come, citizen," said he, "a last glass to the prosperity of the arms of the Republic."

The commercial traveller raised his glass higher than any of the others.

"And," he added, "may the general finish gloriously what he has already gloriously begun."

All the officers joined noisily in the proposed toast.

"And now," said Pichegru, "as I agree with the toast which the citizen has just proposed, we have not an instant to lose. To-day's fight is but the prelude to two more serious battles; for we must win two more in order to regain the lines of Weissembourg, which were lost by my predecessor. The day after to-morrow we will attack Froeschwiller; in four days the line, in five we shall be at Weissembourg, and in six we shall have relieved Landau." Then, addressing Macdonald, he said: "My dear colonel, you are, as you know, my right hand. I intrust to you the duty of visiting all the posts, and of telling each corps which one it is to occupy. You are to command the left wing, and Abatucci the right; I will be in the centre. See that the soldiers want for nothing. No superfluities, but they must have a little more than the necessaries." Then he said to the other officers: "You all know the regiments under your command, citizens; you know those on whom you can depend. Call their officers together and tell them that I am writing to-day to the Committee of Public Safety that we shall sleep at Froeschwiller the day after to-morrow. Also that in eight days at the latest we shall be at Landau; and let them remember one thing, that if that promise is broken, my head will pay the forfeit."

The officers rose, and, buckling on their swords, they prepared to leave the room to execute the orders they had received.

"As for you, Charles," continued Pichegru, "go into the room which has been made ready for us, and see if the mattresses are in their proper places. You will find on a chair a little package addressed to you; open it, and, if the contents pleases you, use it at once, for it belongs to you. If you feel any pain from the concussion you have received, tell me of it, and not the surgeon."

"Thanks, general," answered Charles; "but I do not need any other compresses there than the one which stopped the bullet. As for the bullet itself," continued the boy, taking it from his pocket, "I shall keep it to give to my father."

"And you can roll it in the certificate that I shall write for you. And now, my boy, go."

Charles went out. Pichegru glanced at citizen Fenouillot, who was still sitting in his place, went to the doors that gave access to the dining-room, bolted them, and then returned to his place opposite his guest, who had watched his movements with the utmost astonishment.

"There," said he, "now we are alone, citizen."

"Alone, general?" asked the commercial traveller.

"Let us play above-board."

"I ask nothing better."

"Your name is not Fenouillot, you are not related to the lawyer at Besançon, you were not the Prince de Condé's prisoner, you are his agent."

"That is true, general."

"And you remained by his order to make me some proposals from the royalists at the risk of being shot."

"That is also true."

"But you said to yourself, 'General Pichegru is brave and he will understand that it requires a certain degree of courage to do what I am doing; perhaps he will not shoot me, though he may refuse; and then he will send me back to the prince with his refusal.'"

"That is also true; but I hope that after having heard me--"

"After having heard you there is just one case in which I shall have you shot; of that I warn you."

"What is that?"

"If you should put a price on my treason."

"Or your devotion."

"We will not discuss the words, but the thing. Are you disposed to answer all my questions?"

"I am, general."

"I am going to cross-examine you, I warn you."

"Go on."

Pichegru drew his pistols from his belt and laid one on either side of his plate.

"General," said the pretended clerk, laughing, "I hope those are not your cards that you are laying on the table."

"Have the goodness to put my pistols on the mantel-shelf, since you are nearer to it than I am," replied Pichegru, "they are not comfortable in my belt." And he pushed his pistols within the other's reach, who carried them to the mantel-shelf and returned to his seat.

Pichegru bowed slightly and the other did the same.

"Now," said Pichegru, "let us begin."

"I am waiting."

"What is your name?"

"Fauche-Borel."

"Where do you come from?"

"Neuchâtel. Only my name might have been Fenouillot, and I might have come from Besançon, since I belong to a Franche-Comté family which did not leave until after the revocation of the Edict of Nantes."

"In that case I should have recognized you for a fellow-countryman by the accent."

"Excuse me, general, but how did you know that I was not a commercial traveller for champagne."

"By the way you opened the bottles. Citizen, another time choose another character."

"What one, for instance?"

"A bookseller."

"You know me, then?"

"I have heard of you."

"In what way?"

"As an uncompromising enemy of the Republic, and the author of royalist pamphlets. Excuse me if I continue to question you."

"Continue, general; I am at your service."

"How did you become an agent for the Prince de Condé."

"My name first attracted the attention of the Regent[3] in a royalist pamphlet of M. d'Antragues, entitled 'Memoirs of the Regency of Louis Stanislas Xavier, son of France, uncle of the King, and Regent of France.' He noticed it a second time when I induced the inhabitants of Neuchâtel to sign the Act of Union."

[3] A title which Louis XVIII. bore while Louis XVII. lived.

"And I know that from that time your house became the resort of the emigrants and the hotbed of the anti-revolutionists."

"The Prince de Condé knew it also and sent a certain Montgaillard to know if I would join him."

"Do you know that Montgaillard is an intriguer?" asked Pichegru.

"I fear so," replied Fauche-Borel.

"He serves the king under two names--Roques and Pinard."

"You are well informed, general; but M. de Montgaillard and I have nothing in common except that we both serve the same prince."

"Let us return to him then. You were just saying that he sent M. de Montgaillard to know if you would join him."

"Yes; he told me that the prince had his headquarters at Dawendorff, and would receive me with pleasure. I started at once. I went first to Weissembourg, to throw your spies off the scent by making them think that I was going to Bavaria. I then went down toward Haguenau, and from there I reached Dawendorff."

"How many days have you been here?"

"Two."

"And how did the prince broach the subject to you?"

"In the simplest manner possible, the Chevalier de Contyre presented me to him. 'M. de Fauche-Borel,' he said. The prince rose and came toward me.--You wish me to repeat his exact words, do you not, general?"

"Yes."

"'My dear Monsieur Fauche,' he said to me, 'I know you through all my companions in arms, who have told me over and over of your hospitality to them. I have therefore wished for some time to see you, and to offer you a mission that would be as advantageous as it is honorable. I have recognized for a long time that I cannot depend on foreigners. The reinstatement of our family upon the throne is not an end but a pretext; foreigners are foreigners, and will do everything for their own interests and nothing for the interests of France. No, it is from within that we must bring about the restoration; and,' he continued, laying his hand upon my arm, 'I have chosen you to carry the king's message to General Pichegru. The Convention, in ordering the union of the armies of the Rhine and the Moselle, have placed him under Hoche. He will be furious at this. Profit by this moment to persuade him to serve the cause of the monarchy, by making him understand that the Republic is nothing but a chimera.'"

Pichegru listened to all this with the greatest calmness, and when it was finished, he smiled. Fauche-Borel had expected some kind of answer, and had purposely introduced this mention of Hoche at the end; but as we have seen, Pichegru only replied to this part of the speech by his most benevolent smile.

"Go on," he said.

Fauche-Borel continued:

"It was in vain that I told the prince how unworthy I felt myself of this honor; and that I had no other ambition than to serve him as an active and zealous man. He only shook his head and said: 'M. Fauche, you or no one.' And putting his hand upon my heart, he added: 'You have there what will make the best sort of diplomat for this mission.' If I had not been a royalist I would have resisted, and would in all probability have found excellent reasons for my refusal. But being a royalist, I was desirous of serving the royal cause in any way whatsoever, and so I yielded. I have told you how I went to Weissembourg, from there to Haguenau, and from there to Dawendorff; I had only to go from there to Auenheim, your headquarters; but this morning your advance-guard was signalled. 'Pichegru spares us the trouble of going to him,' said the prince. 'It is a good omen.' Then it was agreed that if you were defeated I was to go to you, and you know the destiny which the Convention reserves for its defeated generals. If you were victorious, I was to wait for you, and with the help of the little scheme of which you already know, I was to gain access to you. You have conquered, and have discovered the ruse; I am at your mercy, general, and shall only offer one excuse for my conduct--my profound conviction that I acted for the best interests of France, and my intense desire to spare the shedding of blood. I await with confidence the decision of your justice."

Fauche-Borel rose, bowed, and seated himself again, as calm, at least to all appearances, as if he had just proposed a toast at a patriotic banquet.

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XXVII. PICHEGRU'S REPLY

"Monsieur," said Pichegru, using the old form of address, which had been abolished in France for a year, "if you were a spy I would have you shot; if you were an ordinary recruiting officer who staked his life for gain, I would send you to the revolutionary tribunal, and you would be guillotined. You are a man in whom confidence has been reposed, and I believe that you have acted more from sympathy than principle. I will reply to you seriously, and I will send you back to the prince with my answer.

"I belong to the people, but my birth in no wise influences my political opinions, they are due entirely to my historical studies.

"Nations are great organized bodies, subject to human disease. Sometimes it is emaciation, and then tonics are necessary; sometimes it is plethora, and then bleeding is prescribed. You tell me that the Republic is a chimera. I agree with you that it is now. And that is where your error comes in. We are not yet a Republic; we are in the midst of a revolution. For a hundred and fifty years kings have ruined us; for three hundred years nobles have oppressed us; for nine centuries priests have held us in slavery. The time has come when the burden has grown too heavy for the backs which bear it, and '89 has proclaimed the Rights of Man, reduced the clergy to the rank of other subjects of the kingdom, and abolished every kind of privilege.

"There remained the king, whose rights had not been touched. He was asked: 'Will you accept France as we shall remodel it, with its three orders--the people, clergy, and nobility--each depending on the other; will you accept the constitution with the privileges which it accords you, the revenues it grants you, the duties it imposes on you? Reflect carefully. If you refuse, say No, and abdicate; if you accept, say Yes, and take the oath.'

"The king said Yes, and took the oath.

"The next day he left Paris; and so confident was he that all due precautions had been taken and that he could reach the frontier in safety, that he sent this message to the representatives of the nation, who had received his oath on the previous evening:

"'I have been compelled to take the oath; it was made with the lips and not the heart; I hold my duties in abeyance, and resume my rights and privileges; and I will return with the enemy to punish you for your revolt.'"

"You forget, general," said Fauche-Borel, "that those whom you call the enemy were his own family."

"Well," said Pichegru, "that is just the trouble. The king's family were the enemies of France. But how could it be otherwise? Half of the blood that flowed in the veins of Louis XVI., son of Louis XV. and a princess of Saxony, was not even French blood; he married an archduchess, and we have for the royal armorial bearings, the first and third quarters of Lorraine, the second of Austria, and the fourth only of France. The result is as you have said. When Louis XVI. quarrels with his people he appeals to his family; but as the family is the enemy of France, he appeals to the enemy, and as the enemy enters France at the summons of the king, he commits the crime of high treason against the nation--a crime as great as high treason against the king, if, indeed, it is not greater.

"Then a terrible state of affairs results. While the king prays for the success of the arms of his family--which means the disgrace of France--and while the queen, seeing the Prussians at Verdun, counts the days that it will take them to reach Paris, France, beside herself with hate and patriotism, rises as one man and recognizes that she has enemies on the frontier--Austrians and Prussians; enemies in her very capital--the king and the queen; secret enemies--nobles and aristocrats. She defeats the Prussians at Valmy, the Austrians at Jemmapes; she stabs her aristocrats in Paris, and beheads both king and queen on the Place de la Révolution. By means of this terrible convulsion she believes that she is saved, and breathes freely.

"But she is mistaken; for the family that made war under the pretext of replacing Louis XVI. on the throne, continues to make war under pretext of crowning Louis XVII., but in reality that France may be invaded and dismembered. Spain wishes to regain Roussillon; Austria wants Alsace and the Franche-Comté; Prussia the Margraviates of Anspach and Beyreuth. The nobles form three divisions; one attacks us on the Rhine, another on the Loire, and a third conspires. War within, war without! Foreign war and civil war! On the frontier thousands of men lying on the battlefields; in France itself thousands of men massacred in prison, thousands of men dragged to the guillotine. Why? Because the king, after taking the oath, did not keep it, and instead of trusting to his people, to France, threw himself into the arms of his family, the enemy."

"But then you approve of the massacres of September?"

"I deplore them. But what can you do against a people?"

"You approve of the king's death?"

"I regard it as a terrible thing; but the king should have kept his oath."

"Do you approve of political executions?"

"I think them abominable; but the king should not have called in the enemy."

"Oh! you may say what you like, general; the year '93 is a fatal one."

"For royalty, yes; for France, no."

"But aside from civil and foreign wars, aside from all these massacres and executions, it is nothing short of bankruptcy to issue all those thousands of francs in paper money."

"I should be glad to see the country bankrupt."

"So should I, if royalty could have the credit of restoring her credit."

"Credit will be re-established by the division of property."

"How so?"

"Have you not seen that all the lands belonging to the emigrated nobles, and to the Church, have been confiscated by the Convention; and that it has been decreed that they shall belong to the nation?"

"Yes; but what of that?"

"Have you not perceived that they have issued another decree to the effect that these lands can be bought with paper money at par value?"

"Yes."

"Well, my dear sir, there you have it! With a thousand francs in paper money--which is not enough to buy ten pounds of bread from the baker--the poor man can purchase an acre of land, which he can cultivate himself, and with which he can furnish bread for himself and his family."

"Who will dare to buy stolen property?"

"Confiscated; which is by no means the same thing."

"What difference? No one would take upon himself to become the accomplice of the Revolution."

"Do you know how much has been sold this year?"

"No."

"More than a thousand million francs' worth. Next year double that amount will be sold."

"Next year! But do you think that the Republic will last till next year?"

"The Revolution--"

"Well, the Revolution--why, Vergniaud says that the Revolution is like Saturn, and that it eats all its children."

"It has a great many children, and some of them are hard to digest."

"But you see that the Girondins are already devoured."

"The Cordeliers are left."

"Some day the Jacobins will devour them at a gulp."

"Then the Jacobins will be left."

"Good! but they have no men like Danton, and Camille Desmoulins, to make a formidable party."

"They have men like Robespierre and Saint-Just, and they are the only party that are in the right."

"And after them?"

"After them I see no one else, and I fear much that with them the Revolution must end."

"And in the meantime, think of the rivers of blood that will flow."

"Revolutions are ever thirsty."

"But these men are tigers."

"In a revolution I do not fear tigers as much as I do foxes."

"And you will consent to serve them?"

"Yes, because they will still be the ruling power of France. A Sylla or a Marius does not exhaust a nation; a Caligula or a Nero enervates it."

"Then in your opinion each of the parties that you have named will rise and fall in turn."

"If the genius of France is logical, it will be so."

"Explain yourself."

"Every party that comes into power will accomplish great things, for which it will be rewarded by the gratitude of our children; it will also commit great crimes, for which its contemporaries will punish its members; and that which has happened to the Girondins will happen to all the others. The Girondins brought about the death of the king--mind I do not say royalty--and they were in turn destroyed by the Cordeliers; the Cordeliers destroyed the Girondins, and they will in all probability be destroyed in turn by the Jacobins; and the Jacobins, the last outgrowth of the Revolution, will in turn be destroyed. By whom? I have already told you that I do not know. When they have disappeared, come and see me, M. Fauche-Borel, for then bloodshed will have ceased."

"And then, where shall we be?"

"We will probably be ashamed of ourselves! Now, I can serve a government that I hate, but I never could serve one that I despised; my motto is that of Thraseas: Non sibi deesse (Never be wanting to one's self)."

"And your reply?"

"It is this: The present moment would be ill-chosen to attempt to stay the Revolution. Just now it is proving its strength by beheading five hundred persons a day at Nantes, Toulon, Lyons and Paris. We must wait until lassitude ensues."

"And then?"

"And then," continued Pichegru, gravely, "as it would be deplorable if France wearied of action, should be exhausted by reaction, and as I have no more confidence in the tolerance of the Bourbons than in that of the people, on the day when I take the first step toward bringing back one or the other member of that family, I shall have in my pocket a charter like that of England, or a constitution like that of America, which shall guarantee the rights of the people, and define the duties of the sovereign; this will be an essential condition. I should like to be a Monk, but a Monk of the eighteenth century, a Monk of '93, preparing for the presidency of a Washington, and not for the royalty of Charles II."

"Monk made his own conditions, general," said Fauche-Borel.

"I should be content to make conditions for France."

"Well, general, his Highness has forestalled you, and here is a paper which will, I am sure, far exceed anything that you could impose for the welfare of France."

Pichegru, who, like most Francs-Comtois, was a smoker, had filled his pipe toward the close of these remarks, and this important operation was just concluded when Fauche-Borel handed him the prince's paper.

"But," said Pichegru, laughing, "I thought that I had made you understand that, if I accepted at all, it would not be for two or three years."

"Very well; but that does not prevent you from considering the contents of this paper," replied Fauche-Borel.

"Very well," replied Pichegru, "when that time comes we will consider it." And without seeking to know what was in the paper, without even unfolding it, he put it in the stove, and lighted his pipe with it, letting it burn until it was entirely consumed.

Fauche-Borel, thinking at first that the act resulted from absent-mindedness, made a movement to catch his arm, then, seeing that it was intentional, he drew back and let the paper burn.

Just then the gallop of a horse entering the courtyard made both men turn their heads. It was Macdonald who had returned, and his reeking horse showed that he had an important communication to make.

Pichegru, who had bolted the door, hastened to unfasten it; for he did not wish to be found closeted with the supposed clerk, whose real name and mission might be discovered later. The door opened almost immediately, and Macdonald appeared upon the threshold. His cheeks, which were naturally ruddy, had taken a deeper hue, for they had been exposed to the north wind and a fine rain.

"General," said he, "the advance guard of the Army of the Moselle is at Pfaffenheim; the entire army is following, and I have preceded General Hoche and his staff by a few minutes only."

"Ah!" said Pichegru, with an expression of frank satisfaction. "You have given me good news, Macdonald. I predicted that we should capture the lines of Weissembourg in eight days, but I was mistaken. With a general like Hoche, and men like those who compose the Army of the Moselle, we shall take them in four."

He had scarcely finished when Hoche and his staff rode rapidly into the courtyard, which was at once filled by horses, men, plumes, and floating scarfs. The old building shook to its foundations; it was as if a wave of life, youth, courage, patriotism, and honor had suddenly surged around its walls. In an instant all the riders had dismounted and thrown back their cloaks.

"General," said Fauche-Borel, "perhaps it would be well for me to retire."

"No, on the contrary, you had better remain," said Pichegru; "then you will be able to tell the Prince de Condé that the motto of the Republican generals is really Fraternity."

Pichegru placed himself opposite the door to receive the man whom the government had sent as his superior officer; Macdonald and Fauche-Borel stood a little behind him to his right and left.

The young officers mounted the stairs with careless good-humored laughter; but when Hoche, who preceded the others, opened the door and they saw Pichegru, they were silent. Hoche removed his hat, and the others followed his example; they entered the room with uncovered heads, and formed a circle around it.

Then, approaching Pichegru with a low bow, Hoche said: "General, the Convention has erred; it has named me, a soldier of twenty-five, as General-in-Chief of the armies of the Rhine and the Moselle, forgetting that one of the greatest soldiers of the age commands the Army of the Rhine. I have come to rectify this mistake, general, by putting myself under your orders and begging you to teach me the rude and difficult art of war. I have instinct, but you have science; I am only twenty-five years old, you are thirty-three; you are Miltiades, I am scarcely Themistocles; the laurels upon which you repose would disturb my rest: I therefore ask only to share your bed." Then, turning to his officers, who stood with bent heads, hat in hand, he said: "Citizens, here is your General-in-Chief; in the name of the safety of the Republic and the glory of France, I ask you, and, if necessary, I command you, to obey him as I myself shall obey him."

Pichegru listened with a smile, while Hoche continued: "I have not come to take from you the glory of reconquering the lines of Weissembourg--a work which you began so well yesterday; your plan is probably already made, and I shall adopt it, being only too happy to serve under you in this glorious work as your aide-de-camp." Then, holding out his hands toward Pichegru, he added: "In all things relating to war I swear obedience to my senior, my superior, my model, the illustrious General Pichegru. It is your turn, citizens!"

With one accord Hoche's entire staff raised their hands and took the oath.

"Your hand, general," said Hoche.

"Come to my arms," said Pichegru.

Hoche threw himself into Pichegru's arms, who pressed him to his heart. Then turning to Fauche-Borel, while his arm still rested around his young colleague's neck, Pichegru said: "Tell the prince what you have seen, citizen, and inform him that we shall attack him to-morrow morning at seven o'clock. These little civilities are not amiss between compatriots."

Fauche-Borel saluted.

"The last of your compatriots, citizen," he said, "died with that Thrascas whose motto you quoted just now. You are the true Romans of old Rome."

And he went out.

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XXVIII. THE DRUM-HEAD MARRIAGE

That same day, about four o'clock in the afternoon, the two generals were bending over a large map of the department of the Lower Rhine. Charles sat writing at a little distance from them, dressed in a becoming coat of dark blue, with pale blue facings and collar, and wearing the red cap of the staff secretaries. This cap was what he had found in the package referred to by the general.

The two generals had just decided that the following day, the 21st of December, the troops should pass over the curved line which divides Dawendorff from the heights of Reichsoffen, Froeschwiller and Woerth, where the Prussians were intrenched; these heights once carried, communication with Weissembourg would be cut off, and Haguenau, thus isolated, would be compelled to surrender. The army was to march in three columns, two to attack in front, and the third, traversing the woods and uniting with the artillery, to attack the Prussians on the flank.

As fast as they arrived at each decision, Charles wrote them down and Pichegru signed them; then the division commanders, who were waiting in another room, were called, and each departed to rejoin his regiment, and to hold himself in readiness to execute the order he had just received.

While they were thus engaged, word was brought to Hoche that the battalion of the rear-guard, having been unable to find quarters in the village, refused to bivouac in the fields, and showed signs of insubordination. Hoche asked the number of the battalion, and learned that it was the third.

"Very well," he said, "go and tell the third battalion for me that it will not have the honor of sharing in the first attack," and he calmly continued to issue his orders.

A quarter of an hour later four soldiers from the mutinous battalion entered, and, in the name of their comrades, asked the general's pardon, and requested permission for the battalion, which was about to bivouac on the spot indicated, to march first against the enemy.

"That cannot be," said Pichegru; "the battalion of the Indre deserves a reward, and they are to march first, but you shall be second."

The last orders had just been issued when an organ-grinder began to play the first strains of the "Marseillaise," "Allons enfants de la patrie," beneath the general's window.

Hoche paid no attention to the serenade, but Pichegru, at the first notes of the organ, listened attentively, then went to the window and opened it. An organ-grinder was persistently turning the handle of a box which he carried in front of him; but as darkness had set in, he could not distinguish the man's features. On the other hand, as the courtyard was full of persons going and coming, Pichegru probably did not care to run the risk of exchanging a word with him. He therefore drew back, and closed the window, although the tune still went on. But, turning to his young secretary, he said: "Charles, run down to the organ-grinder. Say 'Spartacus' to him, and if he replies 'Kosciusko' bring him up here. If he makes no reply, I have made a mistake, and you can leave him where he is."

Charles rose and went out without asking any questions.

The organ continued to play the "Marseillaise" perseveringly and Pichegru listened attentively. Hoche looked at Pichegru, expecting some explanation of this mystery. Then the organ stopped suddenly in the midst of a measure.

Pichegru nodded smilingly to Hoche. A moment later the door opened, and Charles entered, followed by the organ-grinder. Pichegru looked at him for a moment without speaking; he did not recognize the man.

The person whom Charles had brought into the room was a little below medium height and wore the Alsatian peasant's costume. His long black hair hung straight down over his forehead, and he wore a broad-brimmed hat. He looked about forty-five years old.

"My friend," said Pichegru to the musician, "I think this child has made a mistake, and that I have no business with you."

"General, there can be no mistake in a watchword, and if you have any business with Stephan Moinjski, here he is." With these words he raised his hat, threw back his hair, and drew himself up to his full height; and, save for the hair and the black beard, Pichegru saw before him the same man with whom he had talked at Auenheim.

"Well, Stephan?" asked the general.

"Well, general," replied the spy, "I know nearly all that you bade me find out."

"Then put aside your organ and come here. Listen, Hoche; this is some information in regard to the enemy. I am afraid," he added, turning to Stephan, "that you have not taken enough time to make your search very thorough."

"I do not know about Woerth, because an inhabitant of that town has agreed to give us information about it when we arrive at Froeschwilier; but I can tell you all you want to know about Froeschwiller and Reichsoffen."

"Go on."

"The enemy have abandoned Reichsoffen, in order to concentrate upon Froeschwiller and Woerth. Having learned that the junction of your two armies has been effected, they have concentrated upon those two points, which they intend to defend to the utmost. These two positions, which have excellent natural fortifications, have been covered with fresh works; intrenchments have been dug and bastions and redoubts have been erected. The enemy, both at the bridge of Reichsoffen, which they intend to defend as well, and on the heights of Froeschwiller and Woerth, number about twenty-two thousand men, and have thirty pieces of artillery, five of which have been detached for use at the bridge. And now," continued Stephan, "as your first attack will probably be made at Froeschwiller, here is a plan of the ground occupied by the enemy. The force under the command of the Prince de Condé occupies the village. I have no grudge against these men, for they are French. Once master of the heights, you command the city, and consequently it is yours. As for Woerth, I promise nothing as yet; but I may say I hope to show you how to take it without a struggle."

The two generals examined the plan, which was made with the accuracy of a skilled engineer.

"Upon my word, general," said Hoche, "you are fortunate in having spies who are capable of becoming officers of merit."

"My dear Hoche," said Pichegru, "this citizen is a Pole; he is not a spy, he is revenging himself." Then, turning to Stephan, he said: "Thanks! you have kept your word, and amply; but your work is only half accomplished. Will you engage to find us two guides who know their way so thoroughly that they could not lose it, even on the darkest night? You will walk near one of them, and you will kill him on the first sign of hesitation on his part; I will walk near the other. As you probably have no pistols, here are two." And the general gave a couple of pistols to Stephan, who received them with mingled pride and joy.

"I will find guides to be depended upon," he said, with his customary laconism. "How much time can you give me?"

"Half an hour; three-quarters at the outside."

The pretended musician shouldered his organ, and turned toward the door; but before he reached it, Faraud, the Parisian, slipped his head through the opening.

"Oh! I beg your pardon, general; upon the word of a sergeant, I thought you were alone," he said. "But I will go out again, and knock gently, as they used to do in the days of the old tyrant, if you wish."

"No," replied Pichegru; "since you are here, never mind; come in." Then, turning to General Hoche, he said: "General, let me present one of my braves to you. He is afraid of wolves, it is true, but not of Prussians; he took two of them prisoners this morning, and it was for that that I had those stripes put on his sleeve."

"Heavens!" said Faraud. "More generals! I shall have two witnesses instead of one."

"May I remind you, Faraud," said Pichegru, in that kindly tone he adopted toward his soldiers when he was in a good humor, "that this is the second time that I have had the pleasure of seeing you to-day?"

"Yes, general," replied Faraud; "days of happiness do come sometimes, and days of ill-luck at others; there are times when one simply can't help turning trumps."

"I suppose," said Pichegru, laughing, "that you did not come here merely to talk transcendental philosophy."

"General, I came to ask you to be my witness."

"Your witness!" exclaimed Pichegru. "Are you going to fight a duel?"

"Worse than that, general; I am going to be married."

"Good! And to whom?"

"The Goddess of Reason."

"You are in luck, you rascal'," said Pichegru; "she is the prettiest and the best girl in the army. How did it happen? Come, tell us all about it."

"Oh! it is very simple, general. I do not need to tell you that I am a Parisian, do I?"

"No, I know it."

"Well, the Goddess of Reason comes from Paris, too. We are from the same quartier. I loved her, and she did not repulse me when the procession of the 'Country in Danger' passed with its black flags and its rolling drums. Then citizen Danton came to our faubourg, saying, 'To arms! The enemy is only four days' march from Paris.' I was a carpenter's apprentice, but all this upset me. The enemy only four days' march from Paris! The country in danger! 'Faraud,' I said, 'you must repulse the enemy, you must save the country.' I threw away my plane, caught up my gun, and went off to enlist under the flag of our municipality. The same day I went to the Goddess of Reason, and told her that, as her sweet eyes had driven me to desperation, I was going to be a soldier in order to get finished off quickly; then Rose said to me--her name is Rose Charleroi--well, then, Rose Charleroi, the same as used to take in fine washing, said to me: 'As truly as there is but one God, whom they are going to dethrone also, from what I hear, if my poor mother were not sick, I should enlist also!'

"'Ah! Rose,' said I, 'women do not enlist'

"'Yes, they do,' she replied, 'as vivandières.'

"'Rose,' I answered, 'I will write you once a fortnight, to let you know where I am; and if you enlist, enlist in my regiment.'

"'Agreed!' she said.

"We clasped hands, embraced each other, and away went Faraud. After Jemmapes, where my regiment was cut to pieces, they put us with the volunteers of the Indre and brought us up the Rhine. Whom did I see six or eight weeks ago but Rose Charleroi! Her poor mother was dead, and she had been chosen as the best and most beautiful girl of the quartier to be the Goddess of Reason in some celebration or other, and after that, upon my word, she kept her promise to me, and descended from her pedestal to enlist. I attempted to embrace her. 'Idle, lazy fellow,' she said to me, 'not even a corporal?'

"'What would you have, Goddess? I said to her; 'I am not ambitious.'

"'Well, I am ambitious,' she said; 'don't come near me until you are a sergeant, unless it be to get something to drink.'

"'On the day that I am a sergeant will you marry me?' I asked.

"'I swear it on the flag of the regiment.'

"She has kept her word, general. We are to be married in ten minutes."

"Where?"

"In the courtyard, under your windows, general."

"And who is to marry you?"

"The drummer of the regiment."

"What, a drum-head marriage?"

"Yes, general; Rose wants everything to be regular."

"Excellent," said Pichegru, laughing. "I recognize the Goddess of Reason there! Tell her that, since she has asked me to be her witness, I will give her a dowry."

"A dowry, general?"

"Yes, a donkey with two barrels of brandy."

"Oh! general, it is your fault that I don't dare ask anything else of you."

"Tell me what it is, anyway."

"Well, it is for my comrades rather than myself. The day ought to end as it began, with a ball."

"Well," said Hoche, "as the second witness, I will pay for the ball."

"And the town-hall will do for a ballroom," said Pichegru. "But you must tell them all that the ball must finish at two o'clock in the morning, as we are to march at half-past two; we have twelve miles to go before daybreak. You are warned; those who wish to sleep may sleep, and those who wish to dance may dance. We will witness the marriage from the balcony; when all is ready we will know it by the rolling of the drums."

Intoxicated with all these promises, Faraud hastened downstairs, and soon the buzz of preparations could be heard in the courtyard. The two generals, once more alone, definitively arranged the plans for the following day.

One column, which was to start at once, under the orders of Colonel René Savary, was to make a forced march, so as to reach the village of Neuwiller, back of Froeschwiller, about noon. On hearing the first firing they were to march upon Froeschwiller, and attack the Prussians in the rear. A second column, under Macdonald, was to cross the Zeuzel at Niederbronn. The two generals were to march with this column. The third was to make a demonstration at the bridge of Reichsoffen, and endeavor to carry it. If it was impregnable, the column was merely to keep the enemy busy while the other two columns turned the enemy's position. This third column was to be under command of Abatucci.

These arrangements were scarcely completed before the rolling of a drum informed the generals that they were needed to complete the wedding-party, and they lost no time in showing themselves upon the balcony.

As they came out, a tremendous cheer was raised; Faraud saluted in his own peculiar manner, and the Goddess of Reason became as red as a cherry. The whole staff surrounded the couple. It was the first time that this singular ceremony, which was afterward repeated so frequently during the three revolutionary wars, had taken place in the Army of the Rhine.

"Come!" said Faraud, "to your post, Spartacus."

The drummer, thus adjured by Faraud, got upon a table, before which the bride and groom placed themselves.

There was a long rolling of the drum; then Spartacus cried in a loud voice, so that no one present might lose a word of what was said: "Listen to the law! Whereas, it is not always possible in the field to find an official with stamped paper and floating scarf to open the doors of Hymen, I, Pierre-Antoine Bichonneau, called Spartacus, head drummer of the battalion of the Indre, proceed lawfully to unite in marriage Pierre-Claude Faraud and Rose Charleroi, vivandière of the twenty-fourth regiment."

Spartacus here interrupted himself by rolling his drum, which was imitated by all the drummers of the battalion of the Indre and the twenty-fourth regiment.

Then, when the sound had ceased, he said: "Draw near, you who are to be united in matrimony."

The couple came a step nearer to the table.

"In the presence of the citizen-generals Lazare Hoche and Charles Pichegru, the battalion of the Indre, the twenty-fourth regiment, and any one else who happens to be present in the courtyard of the town-hall, in the name of the Republic, one and indivisible, I unite you and I bless you!"

Spartacus executed another roll of the drum, while two sergeants of the battalion of the Indre held a banner, intended to do duty as a canopy, over the heads of the bride and groom; after which Spartacus resumed: "Citizen Pierre-Claude Faraud, you promise your wife protection and love, do you not?"

"The deuce!" said Faraud.

"Citizeness Rose Charleroi, you promise your husband constancy, fidelity, and a little mouthful to drink now and then, do you not?"

"Yes," replied Rose Charleroi.

"In the name of the law, you are married! The regiment will adopt your numerous offspring. Wait now; don't go away!"

A rolling of twenty-five drums was heard, which ceased suddenly at a sign from Spartacus. "Without that you would not have been happy," he said.

The two generals applauded laughingly, and nothing was heard in the courtyard except cheers and hurrahs, which gradually gave place to the clinking of glasses.

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XXIX. THE PRUSSIAN ARTILLERY FOR SIX HUNDRED FRANCS

At six o'clock the next morning, while the sun was disputing with a thick fog the right to light the world; while the first column, commanded by Savary, which had left Dawendorff the night before at nine o'clock, was entering Jaegerthal, where it was to rest for five or six hours: while the thunder of the cannon was beginning to be heard at the bridge of Reichsoffen, which was the object of the attack of the column commanded by Abatucci--the second column, the strongest of the three, with Hoche and Pichegru at its head, crossed the stream which flows past Niederbronn, and took possession of the village without striking a blow.

They had marched twelve miles, and the troops were allowed a short rest at this, their first halting-place. They breakfasted, and the Goddess of Reason, with her donkey and her kegs of brandy, passed through the ranks. One of the kegs was left behind there, and with the cry of "Long live the Republic!" the column started at eight o'clock for Froeschwiller, scarcely two miles away.

Meanwhile the unceasing roar of the cannon could be heard in the direction of Reichsoffen. After a quarter of an hour the firing ceased suddenly. Had the passage been forced, or had Abatucci been obliged to retreat?

The general called Doumerc.

"Have you a good horse, captain?" he asked.

"Excellent."

"Can he take ditches and fences?"

"He can take anything."

"Gallop off then to the bridge of Reichsoffen, and bring me news or die in the attempt."

Doumerc rode off; ten minutes later two horsemen were seen rapidly approaching from the direction that Doumerc had taken. They were the captain and Falou.

The captain had ridden but half of the way when he met a chasseur, who had been despatched by Abatucci to announce that he had carried the bridge and was about to march upon Froeschwiller. Falou having taken a Prussian officer prisoner, Abatucci had made him a corporal--a nomination he begged the general to confirm.

Falou returned to Abatucci with his nomination confirmed, and carried a verbal order to march upon Froeschwiller, and threaten the town, while the general attacked the heights. He was also to hold himself in readiness to render any assistance that might be needed. The troops had meantime continued their march and the heights of Froeschwiller were coming into view.

A small wood covered the road between Niederbronn and Froeschwiller, and fearing lest it might conceal an ambuscade the general ordered a sergeant and twenty men to form in skirmishing line and to investigate it.

"Oh!" said Doumerc, "it is not worth while to trouble the men for a little thing like that." And he went through the wood at a gallop, saying, as he returned, "There is no one there, general."

They passed through the wood safely, but as the advance-guard arrived at the edge of a brook it was greeted by a volley. Two or three sharpshooters had been stationed along the windings of the stream and in the numerous thickets. The two generals formed their men to attack. Pichegru ordered Charles to remain in the rear, but at his earnest solicitation he was allowed to accompany the staff.

Froeschwiller lies at the foot of a little hill which was then bristling with cannon and redoubts; on the right they could see Abatucci's force driving before them into the town the men who had attempted to defend the bridge.

"Comrades," said Pichegru, "shall we wait for our companions, who have already had their share of glory at the bridge, before attacking these redoubts, or shall we keep for ourselves alone the glory of the undertaking, which will be a difficult one, I warn you!"

"Forward! Forward!" shouted with one accord the battalion of the Indre, which formed the head of the column.

"Forward!" cried the men of Hoche's division, who had threatened insubordination the night before, and who had subsequently obtained permission to march second in the line.

"Forward!" cried General Dubois, who was in command of the rear-guard of the Army of the Moselle, which now formed the advance-guard, owing to the reverse movement which had been made.

The drums and trumpets beat the charge. The front ranks began to sing the "Marseillaise"; the quick-step of three or four thousand men shook the earth, and like a human cyclone the army advanced with levelled bayonets.

They had scarcely gone a hundred feet before the little hill vomited fire like a volcano, and bloody furrows were plowed through the thick ranks, which were closed as rapidly as they were broken. The "Marseillaise" and the cries of "Forward!" continued, and the distance between the first ranks of the French soldiers and the intrenchments was rapidly lessening, when a second volley burst forth, and again the balls plowed their way through the ranks. They closed again, but this time a dogged rage succeeded to the enthusiasm, and the song grew fainter, the steps slower.

As the first rank reached the intrenchment, a third discharge burst from the hostile guns; this time the artillery, loaded with grape-shot, sent a hurricane of lead through the attacking column. The assailants fell back before that fiery blast. This time Death did not mow in long swaths, but fell as hail among the wheat. The song ceased, the music was hushed, the wave of humanity not only stopped but flowed backward.

Again the troops took up the music of the victorious hymn. General Dubois, commanding the attack, had his horse killed under him, and was believed to be dead; but he extricated himself from beneath the animal, rose, and putting his hat on the point of his sword, cried, "Long live the Republic!"

This cry was repeated by all the survivors, and even by those of the wounded who were able to make their voices heard. The momentary hesitation vanished; the charge sounded again. The bayonets were levelled, and a roaring as of lions succeeded the singing and the shouts. The first ranks had already reached the redoubts. The grenadiers had begun to scale the walls, when thirty pieces of cannon belched flame with a noise like that of an explosion in a powder-mill.

This time General Dubois fell to rise no more. A ball had cut him in two. The first ranks disappeared in the whirlwind of fire as if engulfed in an abyss. This time the column not only wavered but fell back, and a space of forty feet, piled with the dead and wounded, was cleared.

Then a heroic deed was done. Before Pichegru, who had sent two of his aides-de-camp to Abatucci to come to their assistance, could guess his purpose, Hoche, throwing his hat on the ground that he might the better be recognized by all, with his sword in hand, dashed at a gallop into the clearing and shouted: "Soldiers! six hundred francs apiece for the Prussian cannon!"

"Taken!" cried the soldiers with one voice.

The music, which had been silent for a second, began again, and, amid shot and crashing balls, which did deadly work with their hail-like rain, Hoche, followed by his men, mad with hate and revenge, reached the first redoubt, climbed over it, and urged his horse into the midst of the enemy.

Pichegru placed his hand on Charles's shoulder. The boy was watching the terrible spectacle with wide-opened eyes and quickened breath.

"Charles," said he, "did you ever see a demigod?"

"No, general," replied the boy.

"Well, then," said Pichegru, "look at Hoche. Not even Achilles, son of Thetis, was grander or more beautiful."

And in truth, Hoche, surrounded by his enemies, his hair floating in the wind of death, his brow pale, his lip disdainful, with his tall figure and his beautiful face, looked like an ideal hero, at once dealing death and scorning it.

How would the men climb behind him? how would they scale those parapets eight or ten feet high? It would be impossible to describe how it was done, but in less than five minutes Hoche was followed by his men, the redoubt was carried, and the corpses of one hundred and fifty men were lying at his feet. Then Hoche sprang upon the redoubt, and counting the cannon, said: "Four cannon awarded, for two thousand four hundred francs, to the first ranks of the attacking column!"

Thus he stood for a moment, a living flag of the Revolution before the whole army, a target for bullets, none of which touched him. Then, in a terrible voice, he shouted: "At the others! Long live the Republic!"

And in the midst of rolling drums, the blare of trumpets, generals, officers and soldiers rushed pell-mell upon the intrenchments. At the first sound of the trumpets, the royalists, who were in readiness, rushed from their camp; but they were received by Abatucci's advance-guard, which came up at the double-quick, and kept them so busily engaged that they were unable to assist their allies, the Prussians. Abatucci, in obedience to Pichegru's orders, had even detached fifteen hundred men, which he sent with the two aides-de-camp to join the main army.

Pichegru took command of them, and seeing that Abatucci was fully able to take care of himself with his remaining men, he hastened to the assistance of his comrades, who were hard-pressed at the redoubts. These fresh troops, animated by their victory at the first charge, penetrated the battery. The gunners were cut down, and such guns as could not be turned upon the Prussians were spiked.

The two generals met in the midst of the fray, and standing upon the summit of a low hill, from which they could see the whole plain of Neschwiller, joined in a shout of triumph. A black mass of shining weapons, tri-colored plumes, and flags bending like the masts of a ship in a tempest, were advancing at the double; it was Macdonald and the first column, who thus arrived, not in time to decide the victory, for that was already gained, but to share in the glory.

At sight of them the Prussians became panic-stricken and thought only of flight. They flung themselves over the parapets of the redoubts, and rolled, rather than ran, down a slope so steep that it had not been thought necessary to fortify it. But Macdonald by a prompt manœuvre had skirted the hill, and received the soldiers at the point of the bayonet.

The royalists, who alone had not fled, on seeing their comrades, knew that the day was lost. The infantry retreated slowly, covered by the cavalry, whose bold and frequent charges won the admiration even of those who were fighting against them.

Pichegru, under pretext that they were wearied, sent word to their conquerors to allow them to retreat slowly, while, on the contrary, the cavalry was to charge the fleeing Prussians, who did not rally until they had passed Woerth.

Then each of the generals, hastening to the top of the low hill to view the battlefield, met at the summit. They threw themselves into each other's arms, and waving, the one his bloody sword, the other his hat pierced by two bullets, looked like two gigantic statues through the smoke which still mounted to the sky like the expiring flame of an extinguished volcano.

A tremendous cry of "Long live the Republic!" resounded across the battlefield at this sight, until it gradually died away, and was merged in the groans of the wounded and the last sighs of the dying.

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XXX. THE ORGAN

It was noon and the victory was complete. The conquered Prussians abandoned the battlefield covered with dead and wounded, twenty-four ammunition wagons, and eighteen cannon.

The cannon were dragged before the two generals, and their captors were paid for them at the price set upon them at the beginning of the conflict--six hundred francs apiece.

The battalion of the Indre had taken two. The soldiers were exhausted, first from their night's march, and then from the three long hours of fighting. The generals decided that while one battalion took possession of Froeschwiller, the others should halt and breakfast upon the battlefield.

The trumpets sounded and the drums beat a halt. Arms were stacked. The French relighted the Prussian fires, some of which were not wholly extinguished. When they left Dawendorff they had all received their full rations, and as they had in addition their back pay for five months, each one had added a sausage, a roast fowl, a smoked tongue or a leg of ham to the regular fare. All had full canteens.

If one chanced to be less well provisioned, and had only dry bread, he opened a dead comrade's knapsack and found all he wanted.

In the meantime the surgeons were going over the field; those who could stand the transportation were sent to Froeschwiller to await attention there, the others were looked after at once. The generals established themselves in the redoubts previously occupied by General Hodge half way up the hill. The Goddess of Reason, now the citizeness Faraud, in her quality of first canteen-bearer of the Army of the Rhine, and having no rival in the Army of the Moselle, had assumed charge of the generals' repast. A few chairs, knives and forks and glasses were discovered; they had hoped to find all other necessaries in the general's wagon, but a stray ball had shattered the caisson and all that it contained. The table was set with all the necessary dishes, but all kinds of food and drink were conspicuous by their absence.

Pichegru was about to ask tithes of his soldiers, when a voice, which seemed to come from the bowels of the earth, cried: "Victory! Victory!"

It was Faraud, who had discovered a trap-door, a staircase, and a cellar containing a well-furnished pantry.

Ten minutes later the generals and their staff were dining at the same table. No words could describe these fraternal love-feasts, where soldiers, officers and generals broke the bread of the bivouac together. These men who were to conquer the world, and had started at the Bastile as Cæsar's soldiers had started at the Golden Mile, began to feel in themselves the supreme confidence which gives victory. They did not know whither they were to go, but they were ready to go anywhere. They had before them the whole world, and behind them France--the land which is more solicitous than all others, the only one which lives, breathes, and loves her children, which has a heart, which trembles with pleasure beneath their feet when they triumph, with sadness when they are vanquished, and with gratitude when they die for her.

Oh! he only knows her, this Cornelia among nations, he only can cherish her pride, who can place on her head a laurel-crown, and in her hand the sword of Charlemagne, of Philippe-Auguste, of François I., or of Napoleon--he alone knows what milk can be drawn from her bosom, what tears from her eyes, what blood from her heart!

In this genesis of the nineteenth century, with the mire of the eighteenth still clinging to its feet while its head was in the clouds--in these first battles, when a single people, in the name of liberty and the happiness of the human race, threw down the gauntlet to the whole civilized world--there was something grand, Homeric, sublime, which I feel myself powerless to describe, and yet for the purpose of describing which I have undertaken this book. It is not the least of the poet's misfortunes to feel grandeur, and yet, breathless, stifled, discontented with himself, to fall far short of that which he feels. With the exception of the five hundred men who had been sent to occupy Froeschwiller, the remainder of the army, as we have seen, bivouacked upon the field of battle, rejoicing over their victory, and already forgetful of the price it had cost them. The cavalry, which had been sent in pursuit of the Prussians, now returned with twelve hundred prisoners and six pieces of artillery. Their story was as follows:

A short distance beyond Woerth, the second carabineers, the third hussars and the thirtieth chasseurs had attacked a large force of Prussians surrounding one of Abatucci's regiments, which, having lost its way, had found itself in the midst of the enemy. Attacked on all sides by a force ten times superior to them, the men formed a square and fired a volley of musketry which had attracted the attention of their comrades.

The three regiments did not hold back; they burst through the terrible wall of fire which encircled their comrades; and the latter, realizing that help was at hand, formed in column and fell upon the enemy with terrible energy. Cavalry and infantry then began their retreat toward the French army, but an overwhelming force issued from Woerth and intercepted them. The battle began anew, and, as the French were contending with four times their number, they might have had to yield, had not a regiment of dragoons cut a way through the flames for the infantry, thus setting it free. The infantry in turn, being once more able to open a regular fire, soon cleared a space around it. The cavalry enlarged this space; then horse and foot dashed forward, cutting and slashing, and, singing the "Marseillaise," made sure their position, and were thus able to return to the French army without even losing their guns, amid cries of "Long live the Republic!"

The generals mounted and rode into the town to prepare for its defence should the Prussians attack it. They also wished to visit the hospitals.

All the peasants in the neighborhood, and workmen from Froeschwiller, about seven or eight hundred, were requisitioned to bury the dead. They immediately began to dig immense trenches in the plain, in which they placed French and Prussian soldiers, regardless of their nationality. Prussians and French, in the morning living enemies, became reconciled in the sleep of death at nightfall.

The town was too small to lodge all the army; but with the intelligence and rapidity of French soldiers a temporary village arose as if by magic upon the plain, over which shot and shell had whistled in the morning, while the rest of the army occupied the intrenchments thrown up by the Prussians. The two generals took up their quarters in the great redoubt, sheltered by the same tent.

It was about five o'clock in the evening. The officers were seated at dinner with Pichegru between Charles, who had that day for the first time witnessed the terrors of war and was in consequence extraordinarily thoughtful, and Doumerc, who was on the contrary extremely loquacious. Suddenly Pichegru, thinking he caught a distant sound, which might be a signal, hurriedly placed one hand on Doumerc's arm, and the other on his own lips to command silence. Every one obeyed.

Then from the distance came a far-off echo of the strains of the "Marseillaise." Pichegru smiled and looked at Hoche.

"All right, gentlemen," he said. "Doumerc, you may go on." And Doumerc continued his narration.

Only two persons understood the meaning of this interruption and caught the sound of the organ.

Five minutes later, the sounds still approaching, Pichegru went to the flap of his tent and stepped out upon the covered platform which gave entrance to it. The organ came nearer; the musician was evidently climbing the hill. The general soon saw him approaching by the light of the fires on the great redoubt. But the sentinel's challenge stopped him when he was not more than twenty feet from the door. As the musician had not the countersign he began to play the "Marseillaise" again; and at the first notes the general's voice called from the top of the embankment: "Let him pass."

The sentinel recognized the general as he leaned over the parapet, and drew back obediently. Five minutes later the general and the spy were face to face.

Pichegru signed to Stephan to follow him, and the spy, seeing that he had been recognized, stopped playing. Then Pichegru led him to the cellar where General Hodge's stores had been found, and where Leblanc had placed a table and pen, paper and ink. Leblanc was then put on guard at the door, with orders to allow no one to pass save General Hoche and citizen Charles.

Six o'clock struck in the village. Stephan listened and counted the strokes.

"Good!" he said, "we have twelve hours of darkness before us."

"Can we do anything to-night?" asked Pichegru, eagerly.

"Please God," replied Stephan, "we will take Woerth."

"Stephan," exclaimed Pichegru, "if you keep your word what shall I give you?"

"Your hand," replied Stephan.

"There it is," replied Pichegru, seizing the other's hand, and shaking it heartily. Then, motioning to him to sit down, he continued: "And now, what must we do?"

Stephan placed his organ in a corner, but still remained standing.

"I shall need ten wagons of straw and ten of hay in less than two hours."

"Nothing easier," replied Pichegru.

"Sixty daring men, ready to risk everything, of whom at least half speak German."

"I have a battalion of Alsatian volunteers."

"Thirty Prussian uniforms."

"We can get them from the prisoners."

"And three thousand men under command of a capable general, who must leave here at ten o'clock, and, passing by way of Enashausen, must be within a hundred feet of the Haguenau gate at midnight."

"I will command them myself."

"The first corps must remain silent and motionless until they hear the word 'Fire' and see a great light, then they must hasten into the town, to which they will find the gate open."

"Very well," said Pichegru, "I understand. But how are you going to make the gates of a fortified city open to your ten wagons of straw at this time of night?"

Stephan drew a paper from his pocket.

"Here is the order," he said.

And he showed Pichegru an order to the citizen Bauer, landlord of the Golden Lion, to deliver within twenty-four hours ten wagons of straw and ten of hay, for the use of the chasseurs of Hohenlohe.

"You have an answer for everything," laughed Pichegru; then, calling Leblanc, he said: "Give your best supper to citizen Stephan, and tell General Hoche and Charles to come here."

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XXXI. IN WHICH THE ORGAN-GRINDER'S PLAN BEGINS TO DEVELOP

About eight o'clock that same evening, twenty wagons, loaded alternately with hay and straw, left Froeschwiller by the road to Enashausen. Each one was driven by a man who, in accordance with the old saying that French was intended to be spoken to men, Italian to women, and German to horses, addressed his horses in a language marked by the strange oaths that Schiller put in the mouths of his Robbers.

Once beyond Froeschwiller the wagons went silently along the highroad leading to the village of Enashausen, which bends straight back, by an angle, to Woerth. They stopped in the village only long enough for the drivers to take a drink at the door of the wine-shop, and then continued on their way.

When they were within a hundred feet of the town the first wagoner stopped his cart and went on alone to the gate. He was challenged by a sentinel before he had gone ten paces, to whom he replied: "I am bringing some wagons that have been ordered and am on my way to report."

The first sentinel let him pass, as did the second and the third. At the gate he slipped his paper through the wicket and waited. The wicket closed again, and in a moment the little side door opened and the sergeant in charge appeared.

"Is it you, my boy?"' he asked; "where are your wagons?"

"About a hundred feet off, sergeant."

It is needless to add that both question and answer were in German.

"Very well," said the sergeant, still in German, "I will bring them in myself." And he went out, charging the man he left behind to be careful.

The sergeant and the wagoner passed the three lines of sentinels and reached the wagons which were waiting on the highroad. The sergeant glanced at them carelessly and ordered them to proceed. Wagons and wagoners started, and, led by the sergeant, passed the sentinels and entered the gate which closed behind them.

"Now," said the sergeant, "do you know the way to the barracks or shall I go with you?"

"No need of that," replied the chief wagoner; "we will take the wagons to the Golden Lion to-night in order to save trouble, and in the morning we will take the forage to the barracks."

"Very well," said the sergeant, re-entering the guard-house; "good-night, comrades."

"Good-night," replied the wagoner.

The Golden Lion was scarcely a hundred feet from the gate by which they had just entered. The chief wagoner rapped upon the glass, and as it was only ten o'clock the landlord appeared upon the threshold.

"Ah! is it you, Stephan?" he asked, glancing at the long line of wagons, which extended from his door almost to the Haguenau gate.

"Yes, Monsieur Bauer, myself," replied the chief wagoner.

"And all goes well?"

"Perfectly."

"No trouble in entering?"

"Not the slightest. And here?"

"We are ready."

"The house?"

"A match is all that is needed."

"Then we had better bring the carts into the courtyard. Our men must be stifling."

Fortunately the courtyard was large, and the twenty carts had no difficulty in entering. The great gate was closed, and the landlord and the wagoner were alone. Then, at a given signal--three claps of the hand--a singular thing came to pass.

The bales of hay or straw in each wagon began to move. Then two heads appeared, followed by two bodies, and finally two men, dressed in the Prussian uniform, emerged. Then from each of the carts they took another uniform, which they gave the wagoners. Then, to crown the work, each soldier, standing in the wagon, armed himself with a musket, and took out a third for the wagoner. Thus, when nine o'clock sounded, Stephan, clad as a Prussian sergeant, had under his orders the sixty resolute German-speaking men for whom he had asked Pichegru. They went directly to the stable, where the door was shut after them when they had received the order to load their muskets, which had been left unloaded for fear of accidents in the wagons.

Then Bauer and Stephan went out arm in arm. They went to the house to which the latter had referred when they met; it stood in the highest part of the town, as far as possible from the Haguenau gate, and not a hundred feet from the powder-magazine. The house, which resembled a Swiss châlet, was built entirely of wood. Bauer showed Stephan a room filled with combustible matter and resinous wood.

"At what time shall I fire the house?" asked Bauer, as simply as if he had been speaking of the most trivial matter.

"At half-past eleven," replied Stephan.

It was then nearly ten.

"Are you sure that the general will be on hand at half-past eleven?"

"In person."

"You know," said Bauer, "that once the Prussians realize that the burning house is near the powder-magazine, they will rush here to save the powder, and the inclosure in which the military wagons are stored. In the meantime the Rue de Haguenau will be empty, and that is the time to carry the gate and enter the town. The general can reach the great square without firing, and at the first report five hundred patriots will open their windows and begin to shoot at the Prussians."

"Have you men to sound the tocsin?"

"Two in each church."

"Then all is ready," said Stephan. "Let us take a look at the powder-magazine, and then go back."

They returned by the ramparts, and found that, as Bauer had said, the wooden house was within fifty feet of the inclosure. At eleven o'clock they entered the courtyard of the Golden Lion. The sixty men were ready and full of enthusiasm, and understood that they had been intrusted with a great enterprise.

At a quarter past eleven Bauer shook hands with Stephan, and, assuring himself that he was provided with his tinder-box and flint, made his way toward the wooden house.

Stephan, who remained behind, called his sixty men and explained his plan to them. Each understood what he had to do, and swore to carry it out as far as possible. They waited. Half-past eleven struck. Stephan, at the highest window in the house, was watching for the first gleam of light. Scarcely had the strokes ceased to vibrate in the air than a reddish glare began to color the roofs in the upper part of the town. Stephan ran down; the time had come.

The men were drawn up in the yard in three platoons of twenty men each. Stephan half opened the gate. Every one was running to the other part of town. He ordered his men to march toward the Haguenau gate in single file, while he himself ran ahead, crying: "Fire! in the higher parts of the town, comrades! Fire! near the powder-magazine! Fire! save the wagons! Fire! keep the powder from exploding!"

Stephan ran to the guard of twenty-four men at the gate. The sentinel, taking him for the sergeant of the post, did not stop him.

"Every one of you to the upper part of the town to save the wagons and the powder. To the fire! to the fire!"

Not one of the twenty-four men remained, save the sentinel, chained by his orders. But his curiosity got the better of his discipline, and he asked the pretended sergeant what had happened. The latter, full of good-will toward his subordinates, told him that a servant had fired the wooden house belonging to the landlord of the Golden Lion. In the meantime the patrol was approaching from behind.

"What is that?" asked the sentinel.

"Oh, nothing," replied Stephan, "a patrol." And so saying he slipped a gag into the sentinel's mouth and pushed him toward the first two men of the patrol, who bound him firmly.

Then they carried him into the guard-house, locked him in the officer's room, and took out the key. One of the men volunteered to replace the sentinel, and as they were obliged to know the countersign Stephan undertook to find out what it was.

Holding the key in one hand and a sharp dagger in the other he entered the room. No one knew what arguments he used, but when he came out the sentinel had spoken in spite of his gag. He told the sentinel that the words for the day were Stettin and Strasbourg.

Then they seized the gate-keeper, bound him and locked him in the cellar, Stephan again taking the keys.

Then he put fifty-five of his men in the gatekeeper's room, bidding them hold the gate at all odds so long as one of them was alive. Finally he went out with his five men to relieve the outside sentinels.

In ten minutes two of them were dead and the third a prisoner. Their places were taken by three of his men. Then with the other two he hastened toward Enashausen; but scarcely had he gone a hundred yards when he came upon a black, compact mass, which proved to be Pichegru's men. He was soon face to face with the general.

"Well?" asked the latter.

"Not an instant to lose, general; we must hurry."

"The Haguenau gate?"

"Is ours."

"Come, children," said Pichegru, who realized that this was no time for lengthy explanations, "Forward! march!"

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XXXII. THE TOAST

They obeyed with the joyful eagerness which is born of hope, taking with them the sentinels who had been stationed along the walls. Just as they reached the third they heard rapid firing from the gate where Stephan had left his men.

"Hurry, general," said he, "our men are attacked!"

The column advanced at a quick-step. The gate opened and the portcullis was raised as they came in sight. Though attacked by a force thrice as great as their own, the Republicans had held their ground; the gate was still theirs. The column dashed through the gate and down the street like a wild-boar which sweeps everything before him, while Stephan's men--who were a target, with their Prussian uniforms, for the men of Pichegru's command, who did not know of his little ruse--kept close to the wall.

They marched on with levelled bayonets, the small force of Prussians who had attacked the gate fleeing before them. Hoping to be relieved, they sent orderlies before them to give the alarm that the French were masters of the Haguenau gate. Shots echoed throughout the town, thanks to Bauer and his men, who were firing from the windows.

Pichegru was able to appreciate the panic better when he reached the principal square. The Prussians were running hither and thither, not knowing which way to turn. He ranged his men in order of battle, while a thousand men were sent to the upper town, where most of the Prussians had hurried. The fight raged in twenty different directions. The Prussians did not attempt to rally to a centre; the attack had been so sudden, and they were confused by the conflagration, the firing, and the ringing of the tocsin. Although the force commanded by Pichegru and Macdonald was no greater than that of their adversaries, the struggle was not as prolonged as if the advantages had not all been with the French.

At midnight the Prussians had retired from the town, but Pichegru was not assured of their final retreat until two in the morning. He stationed soldiers everywhere, ordered the gates guarded with the utmost vigilance, and bade the soldiers bivouac in the streets. All the townsfolk kept open house, contributing in some way to the welfare of the soldiers, to celebrate the event. Fires were lighted in the streets, and meat was cooked upon the immense spits in vogue during the latter century. Then a procession was arranged like the ones that hail the approach of carnival times in the northern cities. The streets were illuminated, the Prussian uniforms worn by Stephan's men were given to the people to be burned in effigy, and every citizen took a soldier by the arm and invited him to the fraternal banquet.

Pichegru took care not to oppose this patriotic outburst. He knew well, for his intelligence was exceptionally acute, that the real strength of France lay in consolidating the people and the army until they became one body animated by one soul. Only, fearing that the enemy might attempt some surprise, he gave orders to redouble the sentinels, and, to permit each to share in the celebration, he reduced the time of duty from two hours to one.

There were some twenty aristocrats in Woerth who illuminated their houses even more gayly than the others, fearing, doubtless, that they would be accused of coldness toward the government and that the day of reprisals would follow closely. Their fears were groundless, for all that they had to endure was the auto-da-fé of the Prussian uniforms, and they were invited to participate in the celebrations at the auto-da-fé tables which were spread in front of their houses. This they did gladly, only too willing to escape thus easily.

Pichegru had remained in the public square with a thousand men ready to give assistance if it were needed, and later to receive orders. Seeing that the order to bivouac in the streets had served as a pretext for general merry-making, he had encouraged it, and, leaving Macdonald to command in his place, he went with Stephan toward the upper part of the town.

About three o'clock in the morning Pichegru went back to the inn, for Bauer had asked as a favor that he be allowed to lodge the general. The finest apartments in the inn had been prepared, and while Pichegru was walking about the town the staircase had been decorated with flags, wreaths, and ornamental pieces. In the dining-room a table with twenty-five covers had been laid, and the windows and doors decorated with greens and flowers, for the general and his staff.

Pichegru, as we have seen at Arbois, was perfectly indifferent to triumphal demonstrations, but this time he looked upon it as a Republican love-feast.

The general was accompanied by all the high dignitaries of the town who had been the first to yield to him. At the door, as Stephan was preparing to slip away unnoticed, he caught him by the arm.

"Stephan," said he, "I have always believed in the proverb that short reckonings make long friends. Now I have a double reckoning to settle with you."

"Oh! that can be done easily, general. Will you grant me two requests?" said Stephan.

"With pleasure."

"First I ask for an invitation to supper."

"For yourself?"

"Oh! general, you know that I am only a spy."

"In the eyes of the world; but in mine--"

"I am myself in your eyes, and that satisfies me; let me be what I seem to the world. I care nothing for what it thinks of me, but only for my revenge."

"All right; and the second request?"

"Is that you will give a toast."

"To whom?"

"You will see when you give it."

"But in order to make it--"

"Here it is all written out."

Pichegru was about to read it, but Stephan stopped him.

"Read it when you give the toast," he said.

Pichegru put the paper in his pocket. "And whom shall I invite?"

"A great citizen--Prosper Bauer."

"The landlord of the inn?"

"Yes."

"What has he done that is so fine?"

"You will see when you read the toast."

"Will you always be so mysterious?"

"My power lies in mystery."

"You know that we attack to-morrow."

"Do you need any information about their position?"

"You must be tired."

"I am never tired."

"Do what you please; anything you do will be well done, unless you are caught."

"When can I bring you my report?"

"Any time. If you are never tired, I at least never sleep."

"Au revoir, general."

"Au revoir."

Then turning to the group that had stood aside while he was talking with Stephan, he looked vainly around for the landlord of the Golden Lion.

"Charles," he said, "have the goodness to find our host, citizen Bauer, and ask him for me to sup with us. Take no refusal, and accept no excuse."

Charles bowed and went in search of Prosper Bauer.

Pichegru went upstairs and the rest of the staff followed him. He placed the mayor on his right, the deputy-mayor at his left, and left the seat opposite him for the landlord of the Golden Lion. At length Charles appeared, almost dragging the embarrassed innkeeper after him.

"General," he said, "I come, not at your invitation, of which I am not worthy, but at your command."

"Very well, citizen," said Pichegru, pointing to the empty chair, "sit down there, and after supper we will settle that."

The supper was a merry one, and they drank to victory and deliverance together. There is a strong hatred between the Alsatians and the Prussians, and during the two months that the Prussians had occupied the lines of Weissembourg the Alsatians had had cause to hate them still more. This time they hoped to be rid of them altogether. But they were to see them twenty-five years later, when the insatiable Prussian eagle, having devoured a third of the white eagle of Poland, was to tear away one of the heads of the Austrian eagle.

Toward the end of the supper the general remembered his promise to Stephan. He rose, took his glass in one hand and the paper in the other. Everybody followed his example, and, in the midst of profound silence, he read:

"To the great patriot and citizen, Prosper Bauer, who conceived the plan which restored the town of Woerth to France; who risked his life by receiving and sheltering the sixty men in Prussian uniform who carried the Haguenau gate; who was the first to give the signal to five hundred patriots to fire from the windows upon the enemy; and who, finally, in order to keep the Prussians in the higher part of the town and to create a diversion from the attack upon the gate, set fire to his house with his own hand. To the man who in one day risked his life and sacrificed his fortune."

Here the applause forced Pichegru to stop. But as he made a sign that he wished to continue, silence fell again.

"It was by this light, kindled by the purest patriotism and the most filial devotion, that the foreigners read upon our victorious flags, 'Hatred to tyrants! Nationality for the people! Liberty of the world!' All honor to the great patriot and citizen, Bauer!"

And then, amid cheers and applause, Pichegru embraced him in the name of France. Three days later the capture of Woerth was announced in the "Moniteur," and Pichegru's toast was repeated in full. It was the sole reward that the brave Bauer would consent to receive.

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XXXIII. THE ORDER OF THE DAY

However much we may desire not to lose ourselves in accounts of sieges and battles, we must now follow Hoche and Pichegru in their triumphal course. A chapter or two, however, will suffice to bring us to the time when the enemy was driven beyond the frontiers of France--at least, as far as Alsace and Lorraine are concerned. Moreover, as will be seen, after the three battles of Dawendorff, Froeschwiller, and Woerth, the enemy withdrew from France.

At four o'clock in the morning Stephan came to tell Pichegru that the Prussians, amazed at the way they had been driven from Woerth, were retreating across the Vosges in two columns, one going toward Drakenbroenn, and the other toward Lembach.

Pichegru at once sent an aide-de-camp to inform Hoche that the town was in his hands and that they would attack on the next day, or rather on that very day at five in the morning. He intended to form his army into three columns to attack in the front, and he directed Hoche to leave the intrenchments, and, marching upon Groersdorff, to attack them on the rear. The retreat of the Prussians rendered this manœuvre unnecessary. Doumerc was awakened, and, springing upon his horse, he hastened to tell Hoche to pursue the enemy, while Pichegru fell back upon Haguenau and occupied the town.

But when Pichegru, at the head of his column, reached the heights of Spachbach, he met a messenger whom the mayor of Haguenau had despatched, who informed him that on learning of the triple victory he had just won, and which completely shut off the town from any communication with the armies of Hodge and Wurmser, the garrison of Haguenau had evacuated the place during the night, had marched through the woods to Souffelnheim, and had crossed the Rhine as far up as Fort Vauban. Pichegru detached a thousand men under command of Liebler, and sent them to occupy Haguenau; then, retracing his steps, he took the road through Woerth, passed on to Pruschdorff, and slept that same night at Lobsam.

Stephan was directed to inform Hoche of this unexpected return, and to ask him to join with Pichegru in making still greater efforts to recapture the lines of Weissembourg.

The road reminded one of the invasions of the Huns, Vandals and Burgundians, when huge concourses of men swept from land to land. The Austrians, obliged to abandon the line of the Moder, fell back upon the lines of Weissembourg, before the Lauter, where they intended to give battle. They were under General Wurmser's command.

The Prussians, under command of Hodge, fell back upon Sauerbach. They crossed the river at Lembach, and effected a junction with the Austrians at Weissembourg.

But what seemed so strange in this retreat was that the army was followed by a swarm of royalists, consisting of Alsatian nobles, who, together with their families, accompanied the troops and shared their flight. The roads were filled with carriages, horses and wagons, all in confusion, through the midst of which the Republicans forced a passage, seemingly unconscious that they were mingling with a hostile population, which, when left behind, seemed to be following the very army from which it was in reality fleeing.

The two French generals effected a junction at Roth, and as they met, the soldiers shouted: "Long live the Republic!" The ranks opened, and the two representatives, Saint-Just and Lebas, appeared. It had occurred to them that, as the enemy might be in greater force at Weissembourg, their presence would be encouraging to the soldiers. Charles was the first to recognize the deputy from the Aisne, and cried: "Ah! there is citizen Saint-Just!"

Pichegru leaned toward him and said laughingly, "Do not tell him about the foraging-cap."

"Oh! indeed, no!" replied Charles, "ever since he told me that he had had his best friend shot I have distrusted him."

"You are right to do so."

Saint-Just came up to Pichegru and congratulated him in a few brief and trenchant words. Then, recognizing Charles, he said: "Ah! it seems that between the toga and arms you have chosen arms. Don't let him get killed, citizen Pichegru; he is a good boy, and bids fair to become a good man, a rare thing in these days." Then taking Pichegru aside, he said: "My police tell me--though I would not believe them--that you had an interview with an emissary from the Prince de Condé. I don't believe a word of it."

"It is true, nevertheless, citizen Saint-Just."

"What did he have to say?"

"He came to make me some treasonable propositions."

"What were they?"

"I do not know; my pipe had just gone out, so I lighted it again with the Prince de Condé's letter without taking the trouble to read it."

"And you had the messenger shot?"

"Indeed I did not."

"Why not?"

"If he had been dead, how could he tell his prince what I had done with his propositions?"

"Pichegru, you did not conceal some other motive beneath this clemency?"

"Yes, that of beating the enemy the next day at Froeschwiller; of taking Woerth the day following, and of forcing the lines to-day."

"Then you and Hoche are ready to march upon the enemy?"

"We are always ready, citizen representative, particularly when we are honored with your company."

"Then forward!" said Saint-Just; and he sent Lebas to direct Hoche to attack on his side. The drums and trumpets, sounded all along the line, and the army moved forward.

As chance would have it, that same day, the 22d of December, the Prussians and the Austrians had resolved to resume the offensive, and when the French army reached the top of a small eminence they found the enemy drawn up in line of battle from Weissembourg to the Rhine.

The position was a good one for offence but not for defence, for in the latter case the Lauter formed an abyss, and there was much danger of their being driven into it. When Pichegru and Hoche marched against them they found that the enemy was also on the march.

Supposing that the fiercest struggle would be in the centre, the generals massed thirty-five thousand men there, while three divisions of the Army of the Moselle threatened the right wing of the allies by the passes of the Vosges, and two divisions, commanded by one of General Broglie's aides-de-camp, advanced to the attack by way of Lauterbourg. The young aide-de-camp, whose name was Antoine Desaix, was scarcely twenty-seven years old.

Suddenly Saint-Just and Lebas, who were marching respectively in front of the columns of Pichegru and Hoche, called out: "Halt!"

They were not more than a cannon-shot from the enemy, and it was evident that the two armies would meet before another half hour.

"Citizen Pichegru," said Saint-Just, while Lebas said the same to Hoche, "call all your officers to the front; I have a communication to make to them before the battle begins."

Pichegru gave the necessary orders, which were repeated all along the line by brigadier-generals, colonels, aides-de-camp, and captains.

The officers of every rank, even to the sub-lieutenants, gathered around Saint-Just and Pichegru on the right, and Hoche and Lebas on the left. This took up about ten minutes, during which the officers alone moved while the soldiers stood quietly waiting.

The Prussians and Austrians advanced nearer, and the Republicans began to hear their trumpets and drums beating and sounding the charge. Saint-Just drew a printed sheet from his pocket; it was the "Moniteur."

"Citizens," he said in his harsh voice, which was so powerful that it could be heard five hundred feet away, "before you attack I should like to tell you a piece of good news."

"What is it? What is it?" cried all the officers together.

Just then one of the enemy's batteries opened fire, and its projectiles found their victims in the French ranks. One of the officers had his head carried off by a ball, and fell at Saint-Just's feet, who, apparently oblivious of the fact, continued in the same tone: "The English are driven from Toulon, the infamous city. The tri-color flag floats over the ramparts. Here is the 'Moniteur,' which contains not only the official announcement, but also the details which I would read you if we were not under fire."

"Read them," said Pichegru.

"Read them, citizen representative of the people; read them!" cried all the officers.

The soldiers, in whose ranks the volley had plowed several furrows, looked impatiently at the group of officers. A second discharge was heard, and a second hurricane of fire whistled past. Other furrows were opened.

"Close the ranks," Pichegru cried to the soldiers.

"Close the ranks!" repeated the officers.

And the empty spaces disappeared.

In the middle of the circle a horse was lying dead beneath his rider. The officer disengaged his feet from the stirrups and drew nearer to Saint-Just in order to hear better.

Saint-Just read:

28th Frimaire of the Year II. of the Republic, one and indivisible; eleven of the evening.

Citizen Dugommier to the National Convention:

CITIZEN REPRESENTATIVES--Toulon is ours: Yesterday we took Fort Mulgrave and the Little Gibraltar.

This morning the English evacuated the forts and burned the French fleet and the arsenal. The building where the masts were stored is on fire; twenty-six warships are burned, eleven of which are ships of the line, and six are frigates; fifteen are captured, and thirty-eight saved.

At ten o'clock this evening Colonel Cervoni entered the town. To-morrow I will write more fully. Long live the Republic!

"Long live the Republic!" cried the officers in turn.

"Long live the Republic!" repeated the centre and the right wing.

A third cannonade was heard and more than one shout of "Long live the Republic!" was begun and never finished.

"Now," continued Saint-Just, "here is a letter from our colleague Barras, who is charged with the punishment of Toulon; it is addressed to the National Convention:

CITIZEN REPRESENTATIVES--The greater part of the infamous inhabitants of Toulon have embarked on the ships of Hood and Sidney Smith, and consequently national justice cannot be administered as it ought to be. Fortunately they were unable to take their houses with them; the city remains to disappear beneath the vengeance of the Republic, like those accursed cities of antiquity, for which the eye searches in vain. At first it was thought best to destroy the city by blowing it up, but it would not do to risk firing the powder-magazines and the arsenal. It has therefore been decided that all the masons from the six neighboring departments shall be summoned hither with their tools, for a general and prompt demolition. With an army of twelve thousand masons the work will be accomplished speedily, and Toulon should be levelled to the ground within a fortnight.

To-morrow the shooting of the traitors will begin, and will be continued until no more traitors remain to be shot.

We salute you fraternally. Long live the Republic.

The enemy still continued to advance; the rolling of drums, the blare of the trumpets, and from time to time, when the wind was favorable, the harmonious tones of music could be heard in the distance. But every sound was soon lost in the roar of the cannon; a storm of shot, thick as hail, fell upon the French ranks, the body of officers being especially singled out. Pichegru rose in his stirrups, and noticing a slight movement among the soldiers, shouted: "To your ranks!"

"To your ranks!" repeated the officers.

The lines reformed.

"Ground arms!" cried Pichegru.

Ten thousand muskets touched the earth at the same moment with admirable precision.

"Now," continued Saint-Just, "here is a communication from the Minister of War; it is addressed to me to be transmitted to Generals Pichegru and Hoche:

CITIZEN REPRESENTATIVES--I have received this letter from citizen Dutheuil, junior. "Toulon is in the hands of the Republic; the cowardice and perfidy of its enemies is complete. The artillery has served splendidly; we owe the victory to it alone. There is not a soldier who has not been a hero; the officers set the men the example. I cannot find words to praise Colonel Bonaparte sufficiently. Great knowledge of military science, keen intelligence, too great a tendency to expose himself--these form a feeble summary of the rare virtues of this rare officer. It is for you, minister, to retain him for the glory of the Republic."

I have appointed Colonel Bonaparte a brigadier-general, and beg you to direct Generals Hoche and Pichegru to place his name upon the order of the day of the Army of the Rhine. I will show the like honor to the brave man whose name they send me, who shall have been the first to cross the lines at Weissembourg.

"You hear, citizens," said Pichegru, "Colonel Bonaparte's name is on the order of the day. Let each one return to his post and repeat this name to the soldiers. Now that the English are beaten, down with the Prussians and the Austrians! Forward! Long live the Republic!"

The name of Bonaparte, which had sprung so gloriously into prominence, ran from rank to rank; an immense shout of "Long live the Republic!" burst from forty thousand throats; the drums beat the charge, the trumpets sounded, the bands played the "Marseillaise," and the whole army, so long restrained, dashed upon the enemy.

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XXXIV. A CHAPTER WHICH IS BUT ONE WITH THE FOLLOWING CHAPTER

The object of the campaign, to recapture the lines of Weissembourg, had been accomplished; the enemy had been driven from France in the North and in the South, at Toulon and at Landau, in the space of ten days. The soldiers were therefore enabled to enjoy a much needed rest; besides they had found stores of cloth, shoes, food and forage at Guermesheim, at Kaiserlauten, and at Landau; a single store at Kaiserlautern having supplied them with one thousand woollen comforters. The time had therefore come for Pichegru to keep his promises.

Estève's accounts had been rendered, and the twenty-five thousand francs, deposited to the credit of the battalion of the Indre with the general, had been increased by twelve hundred, the price of the two cannon which the battalion had captured. This sum of twenty-six thousand two hundred francs was enormous, for it was all in gold; and the gold louis at that time was worth seven hundred and twelve francs in paper money.

The general sent for Faraud and the two soldiers who had accompanied him each time that he had come as ambassador from the battalion. The three appeared, Faraud with his sergeant-major's stripes, and one of the others with corporal's stripes, which he had earned since his first interview with the general.

"Here I am, general," said Faraud; "and here are my two comrades, Corporal Groseiller and Comrade Vincent."

"You are all three welcome."

"You are very kind, general," said Faraud, with the twist of the neck which was peculiar to him.

"You know that a sum of twenty-five thousand francs has been allotted for the widows and orphans of the dead of the battalion of the Indre."

"Yes, general," replied Faraud.

"To which sum the battalion has added another twelve hundred francs."

"Yes, general. And by the same token, it was an idiot named Faraud who was carrying it in his handkerchief and who let it fall for sheer joy on hearing that he had been made a sergeant-major."

"Will you give me your word that he will not do it again?"

"Word of a sergeant-major! not even if you should make him a colonel."

"We have not got as far as that yet."

"So much the worse, general."

"But still I am going to promote you."

"Me?"

"Yes."

"Again?"

"I am going to make you paymaster."

"In place of citizen Estève?" said Faraud, with his peculiar twist of the head. "Thanks, general, the place is a good one."

"No, not quite that," said Pichegru, smiling at the fraternal familiarity which makes the strength of the army, and which the Revolution introduced into that of the Republic.

"Too bad," said Faraud.

"I appoint you paymaster in the department of the Indre to the extent of twenty-six thousand and two hundred francs. In other words, I charge you and your two comrades, whose conduct has given me satisfaction, to divide the sum among the families whose names you will find there." And the general gave Faraud a list.

"Ah! general," said Faraud, "that is indeed a reward! What a pity that they have done away with the good God!"

"Why so?"

"Because the prayers of these good folks would have taken us straight to heaven."

"Well," said Pichegru, "it is probable that when you are ready to go there, there will be a restoration. And now how will you go?"

"Where, general?"

"To the Indre. There are a good many departments to cross before you get there."

"On foot, general; that will take time, though."

"I wanted to hear you say that, brave hearts that you are! Here, this is the money for your expenses, nine hundred francs in all--three hundred for each of you."

"We could go to the end of the world with that."

"But you must not stop at every tavern for a drink."

"We shall stop nowhere."

"Nowhere?"

"No. I shall take the Goddess of Reason with me."

"Then we will have to add three hundred francs for the Goddess of Reason. Here is a draft on citizen Estève."

"Thanks, general; and when must we start?"

"As soon as possible."

"To-day?"

"Well, go, my brave fellows; but at the first shot--"

"You will find us at our posts, general."

"Good, and now go tell them to send citizen Falou to me."

"He will be here in five minutes."

The three messengers bowed and went out. Five minutes later, citizen Falou presented himself, wearing the general's sword at his side with great dignity.

Since the general had seen him his face had undergone a change. A gash, beginning at the ear and extending to his upper lip, had cut open his right cheek; the flesh was held in place by strips of plaster.

"Ah!" said Pichegru, "it looks as if your defence had come rather late."

"That's not it, general," replied Falou; "but they were three to my one; and before I had time to kill the other two, the third had given me this razor-cut. It's nothing; it would be healed already if we had had any wind. Unfortunately the weather is damp."

"Well, upon my honor, I am not sorry that it has happened to you."

"Thanks, general; a fine scar like that does not harm a chasseur's face."

"That was not what I meant."

"What then?"

"It will give me an excuse to send you away."

"Say, general, no jokes; it is not a final dismissal?"

"No, a fortnight's furlough."

"What for?"

"To go and see Mother Falou."

"Ah, yes, the poor old woman; that's so."

"Have you not your back-pay to carry her?"

"Ah! general, you have no idea of the quantity of brandy compresses that I had to put on this wound! It is like a mouth, it drinks and drinks, you have no idea how much."

"In other words your pay is almost gone?"

"Worse than my sword was when you were good enough to give me this one."

"Then I will do for your pay what I did for your sword."

"Will you give me more?"

"Oh! the Prince de Condé will pay the piper!"

"Gold! Ah, what a pity that the poor old mother cannot see it again; it would remind her of the times when there was plenty of gold!"

"She will see enough to sew the new quartermaster's stripes on your coat, which the Prussians have already sewed on your face."

"Quartermaster, general? Am I a quartermaster?"

"That is the rank which they have put upon your leave of absence."

"Faith, yes; there it is, every letter of it!" said Falou.

"Get ready to start."

"To-day?"

"To-day."

"On foot or on horseback?"

"In a carriage."

"In a carriage? Am I to go in a carriage?"

"A post-chaise."

"Like the king's dogs when they go to the hunt! And may I know why I am to have this honor?"

"My secretary, Charles, who is going to Besançon, will take you with him, and will bring you back again."

"General," said Falou, bringing his heels together and saluting, "it only remains for me to thank you."

Pichegru acknowledged the salute with a wave of his hand and a nod. Falou turned upon his heel and went out.

"Charles! Charles!" called Pichegru.

A door opened, and Charles, who was in an adjoining room, hurried in. "Here I am, general," he said.

"Do you know where Abatucci is?"

"With us, general. He is doing the account that you asked for."

"Will he have it finished before long?"

"It is finished, general," said Abatucci, appearing with the paper in his hand.

Charles was about to go away, but the general caught him by the wrist. "Wait," said he, "I wish to speak to you." Then he said to Abatucci, "How many flags?"

"Five, general."

"Cannons?"

"Twenty-eight."

"Prisoners?"

"Three thousand."

"How many of the enemy killed?"

"Fully seven thousand."

"How many did we lose?"

"Scarcely twenty-five hundred."

"You will go to Paris with the rank of colonel, which I shall ask the government to confirm. You will present the five flags to the Convention in the names of General Hoche and myself, and you will take with you the report that General Hoche is preparing. Estève will give you a thousand francs to cover your expenses. My choice of you to carry the captured flags to the Convention, as well as the rank I have just bestowed upon you, proves my esteem for your courage and ability. If you see your cousin Bonaparte remind him of the fact that I was his tutor at Brienne."

Abatucci pressed the hand which the general held out to him, saluted, and retired.

"And now we are by ourselves, little Charles!" said Pichegru.

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