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[pg 162] 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!"

[pg 163]

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."

[pg 164]

"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."

[pg 165]

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.

[pg 166]

"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."