gning stories of the old soldiers
of the army, I never wearied. Few, if any, knew whither they were
going--perhaps to the north to join the army of the Sambre; perhaps
to the east to the force upon the Rhine. It might be that they were
destined for Italy--none cared! Meanwhile, at every moment, detachments
moved off, and their places were filled by fresh arrivals--all dusty and
wayworn from the march. Some had scarcely time to eat a hurried morsel,
when they were called on to 'fall in,' and again the word 'forward' was
given. Such of the infantry as appeared too weary for the march were
sent on in great charrettes drawn by six or eight horses, and capable of
carrying forty men in each; and of these there seemed to be no end. No
sooner was one detachment away than another succeeded. Whatever their
destination, one thing seemed evident, the urgency that called them was
beyond the common. For a while I forgot all about myself in the greater
interest of the scene; but then came the thought that I too should have
my share in this onward movement, and now I set out to seek for my young
friend, the sous-lieutenant. I had not asked his name, but his regiment
I knew to be the 22nd Chasseurs a cheval. The uniform was light green,
and easily enough to be recognised; yet nowhere was it to be seen.
There were cuirassiers, and hussars, heavy dragoons, and carabiniers in
abundance--everything, in short, but what I sought.

At last I asked of an old quartermaster where the 22nd were quartered,
and heard, to my utter dismay, that they had marched that morning at
eight o'clock. There were two more squadrons expected to arrive at noon,
but the orders were that they were to proceed without further halt.

'And whither to,' asked I.

'To Treves, on the Moselle,' said he, and turned away as if he would not
be questioned further. It was true that my young friend could not have
been much of a patron, yet the loss of him was deeply felt by me. He was
to have introduced me to his colonel, who probably might have obtained
the leave I desired at once; and now I knew no one, not one even to
advise me how to act. I sat down upon a bench to think, but could
resolve on nothing; the very sight of that busy scene had now become a
reproach to me. There were the veterans of a hundred battles hastening
forward again to the field; there were the young soldiers just flushed
with recent victory; even the peasant boys were 'eager for the fray';
but I alone wa