rse short, as she came in front of the
Emperor, the animal reared up, almost straight, and pawed the air with
his forelegs; while she, with all the composure in life, raised her hand
to her cap, and saluted the Emperor with an action the most easy and
graceful.

"Thou hast some yonder," said Pioche, with a grim smile at the staff,
"would be sore puzzled to keep their saddles as well."

[Illustration: Minnette 170]

[Illustration: BrowneMinnette105]

"Minette," said the Emperor, while he gazed on her handsome features
with evident pleasure, "your name is well known to me for many actions
of kindness and self-devotion. Wear this cross of the Legion of Honor;
you will not value it the less that until now it has been only worn by
me. Whenever you find one worthy to be your husband, Minette, I will
charge myself with the dowry."

"Oh, Sire!" said the trembling girl, as she pressed the Emperor's
fingers to her lips,--"oh, Sire, is this real?"

"Yes, _parbleu!_" said Pioche, wiping a large tear from his eye as he
spoke; "he can make thee be a man, and make me feel like a girl."

As Duroc attached the cross to the buttonhole of the vivandiere's frock,
she sat pale as death, totally overcome by her sensations of pride, and
unable to say more than "Oh, Sire!" which she repeated three or four
times at intervals.

Again the procession moved on; other wagons followed with their brave
fellows; but all the interest of the scene was now, for me at least,
wrapped up in that one incident, and I took but little notice of the
rest.

For full two hours the cortege continued to roll on,--wagon after
wagon, filled with the shattered remnants of an army. Yet such was the
indomitable spirit of the people, such the heartfelt passion for glory,
all deemed that procession the proudest triumph of their arms. Nor was
this feeling confined to the spectators; the wounded themselves leaned
eagerly over the sides of the _charrettes_ to gaze into the crowds on
either side, seeking some old familiar face, and looking through all
their sufferings proudly on the dense mob beneath them. Some tried
to cheer, and waved their powerless hands; but others, faint and
heart-sick, turned their glazed eyes towards the "Invalides," whose
lofty dome appeared above the trees, as though to say, that was now
their resting-place,--the only one before the grave.

He who witnessed that day could have little doubt about the guiding
spirit of the French nation; no