s a blessing! Remember that if _your_ heart be cold
to me, you have made _mine_ your own for ever. I will not leave you.
No----"

'"Is it that thou mayst bring me yonder and show me amongst thy
comrades--the Tyrol maiden that thou hast captured, thy spoil of war?"

'"Oh, Lydchen, dearest, why will you speak thus----"

'"Never!" cried she, as her eyes flashed proudly, and her cheek flushed
red, "never! I have the blood of Hofer in my veins; and bethinkest thou
I would stoop to be a jest, a mockery, before thy high-born dames, who
would not deem me fit to be their waiting-woman? Farewell, sir. I hoped
to part with thee less in anger than in sorrow."

'"Then I will remain," said I.

'"Too late, too late!" cried she, waving her hand mournfully; "the hour
is past. See, there come your troops; a moment more, and I shall be
taken. You wish not this, at least----"

'As she spoke, a cavalry detachment was seen coming up the valley at a
canter. A few minutes more and she would be discovered. I knew too well
the ruffian natures of the soldiery to hazard such a risk. I caught her
to my arms with one last embrace, and the next moment dashed down the
path towards the dragoons. I turned my head once, but she was gone; the
peasant guide had left the breach of the chasm, and they both were lost
to my view.

'My story is now soon told. I was tried by a court-martial, honourably
acquitted, and restored to my grade--_en retraite_, however, for my
wound had disabled me from active service. For three years I lived in
retirement near Mayence, the sad memory of one unhappy event embittering
every hour of my life.

'In the early part of 1809 a strong division of the French army,
commanded by my old friend and companion Lefebvre, entered Mayence, on
their way to Austria; and as my health was now restored, I yielded
to his persuasion to join his staff as first aide-de-camp. Indeed,
a carelessness and indifference to my fortune had made me submit to
anything, and I assented to every arrangement of the general, as if I
were totally unconcerned in it all. I need not trace the events of
that rapid and brilliant campaign. I will only remark that Eckmuehl and
Ratisbon both brought back all the soldier's ardour to my heart; and
once more the crash of battle, and the din of marching columns, aroused
my dormant enthusiasm.

'In the month of April, a _corps d'armee_ of twenty thousand men entered
the Tyrol, and pushed forward to the Niederwald,