egislators, to the
opulence of our Mondors, I preferred the sword. One would have said that
I had sucked the milk of Bellona. 'Victory or Death!' was already my
motto, and I was not sixteen years old.

"With what noble scorn I heard recounted the history of our Proteuses of
politics! With what disdainful glances I regarded the Turcarets of
finance, lolling on the cushions of some magnificent carriage, and
conducted by a laced automaton to the boudoir of some Aspasia. But if I
heard told the mighty deeds of the Knights of the Round Table, or the
valor of the crusaders celebrated in flowing verse; if chance placed in
my hand the great actions of our modern Rolands, recounted in an army
bulletin by the successor of Charlemagne, a flame presaging the fire of
battles rose in my young eyes.

"Ah, the inaction was too much, and my leading-strings, already worn by
impatience, would have broken, perhaps, had not a father's wisdom untied
them.

"'Most surely,' said he to me, trying, but in vain, to restrain his
tears, 'it was no tyrant who begot you, and I will not poison the life
which I myself gave you. I had hoped that your hand would remain in our
cottage to close my eyes; but when Patriotism has spoken, Egotism must
be still. My prayers will always follow you to the field where Mars
harvests heroes. May you merit the guerdon of valor, and show yourself a
good citizen, as you have been a good son!'

"Speaking thus, he opened his arms to me. I threw myself into them; we
mingled our tears, and I promised to return to our hearthstone as soon
as I could bring the star of honor suspended from my breast. But alas!
my unhappy father was destined to see me no more. The fate which was
already gilding the thread of my days, pitilessly severed that of his. A
stranger's hand closed his eyes, while I was gaining my first epaulette
at the battle of Jena.

"Lieutenant at Eylau, captain at Wagram, and there decorated by the
Emperor's own hand on the field of battle, major before Almieda,
lieutenant-colonel at Badajoz, colonel at Moscow, I have drunk the cup
of victory to the full. But I have also tasted the chalice of adversity.
The frozen plains of Russia saw me alone with a platoon of braves, the
last remnant of my regiment, forced to devour the mortal remains of that
faithful friend who had so often carried me into the very heart of the
enemy's battalions. Trusty and affectionate companion of my dangers,
when rendered useless by an