papers,' he said, and I heard them
crackle as he put his hand up to his bosom. 'No man has ever had more
faithful servants--no man since the beginning of the world.'

As he spoke we came upon the scene of the struggle. Colonel Despienne
and the man whom we had shot lay together some distance down the road,
while their horses grazed contentedly beneath the poplars. Captain
Tremeau lay in front of us upon his back, with his arms and legs
stretched out, and his sabre broken short off in his hand. His tunic was
open, and a huge blood-clot hung like a dark handkerchief out of a slit
in his white shirt. I could see the gleam of his clenched teeth from
under his immense moustache.

The Emperor sprang from his horse and bent down over the dead man.

'He was with me since Rivoli,' said he, sadly. 'He was one of my old
grumblers in Egypt.'

And the voice brought the man back from the dead. I saw his eyelids
shiver. He twitched his arm, and moved the sword-hilt a few inches. He
was trying to raise it in salute. Then the mouth opened, and the hilt
tinkled down on to the ground.

'May we all die as gallantly,' said the Emperor, as he rose, and from my
heart I added 'Amen.'

There was a farm within fifty yards of where we were standing, and the
farmer, roused from his sleep by the clatter of hoofs and the cracking
of pistols, had rushed out to the roadside. We saw him now, dumb with
fear and astonishment, staring open-eyed at the Emperor. It was to him
that we committed the care of the four dead men and of the horses also.
For my own part, I thought it best to leave Violette with him and to
take De Montluc's grey with me, for he could not refuse to give me back
my own mare, whilst there might be difficulties about the other.
Besides, my little friend's wound had to be considered, and we had a
long return ride before us.

The Emperor did not at first talk much upon the way. Perhaps the deaths
of Despienne and Tremeau still weighed heavily upon his spirits. He was
always a reserved man, and in those times, when every hour brought him
the news of some success of his enemies or defection of his friends, one
could not expect him to be a merry companion. Nevertheless, when I
reflected that he was carrying in his bosom those papers which he valued
so highly, and which only a few hours ago appeared to be for ever lost,
and when I further thought that it was I, Etienne Gerard, who had placed
them there, I felt that I had deserved some