"

So saying, he presented me with a letter from the assistant-adjutant
of the corps, with instructions for the conduct of forty men, invalided
from different regiments, and now on their way to Lintz. The paper was
perfectly regular, setting forth the names of the soldiers and
their several corps, together with the daily marches, the halts, and
distances. My only surprise was how this service so suddenly devolved on
me, whose recovery could only have been reported a few hours before.

"When shall I muster the detachment, sir?" said the sergeant,
interrupting me in the midst of my speculations.

"Now,--at once. It is past five o'clock. I see Langenau is mentioned as
the first halting-place; we can reach it by eight."

The moment the sergeant withdrew, I arose and dressed for the road,
anxious to inform mademoiselle as early as possible of this sudden order
of march. When I entered the _salon_, I found to my surprise that the
breakfast table was all laid and everything ready. "What can this mean?"
said I; "has she heard it already?" At the same instant I caught sight
of the door of her chamber lying wide open. I approached, and looked in.
The room was empty; the various trunks and boxes, the little relics
of military glory I remembered to have seen with her, were all gone.
Minette had departed; when or whither, I knew not. I hurried through the
building, from room to room, without meeting any one. The door was open,
and I passed out into the dark street, where all was still and silent
as the grave. I hastened to the stable: my horse, ready equipped and
saddled, was feeding; but the stall beside him was empty,--the pony of
the vivandiere was gone. While many a thought flashed on my brain as to
her fate, I tortured my mind to remember each circumstance of our last
meeting,--every word and every look; and as I called to my memory the
pettish anger of my manner towards her, I grew sick at heart, and hated
myself for my own cold ingratitude. All her little acts of kindness, her
tender care, her unwearying good-nature, were before me. I thought of
her as I had seen her often in the silence of the night, when, waking
from some sleep of pain, she sat beside my bed, her hand pressed on
my heated forehead; her low, clear voice was in my ear; her soft,
mild look, beaming with hope and tender pity. Poor Minette! had I then
offended you? was such the return I made for all your kindness?

"The men are ready, sir," said the sergeant