o come on. A cheer
answered her. The mass rushed forward; the fire again pealed forth; a
shriek pierced the din of all the battle, and the leading files halt.
Four grenadiers fall back to the rear, carrying a body between them:
it is the corpse of Minette the vivandiere, who has received her
death-wound!

[Illustration: 506]

The same evening saw me the occupant of a bed in the ambulance of the
Guard. Dreadful as the suffering of my wound was, I carried a deeper one
within my heart.

"The Emperor has given you his own cross of the Legion, sir," said the
surgeon, endeavoring to rally me from a dejection whose source he knew
not.

"He has made him a general of brigade, too," said a voice behind him.

It was General Letort who spoke; he had that moment come from the
Emperor with the tidings. I buried my head beneath my hands, and felt as
though my heart was bursting.

"That was a gallant girl, that vivandiere," said the rough old general;
"she must have had a soldier's heart within that corsage. _Parbleu!_ I'd
rather not have another such in my brigade, though, after what happened
this evening."

"What is it you speak of?" said I, faintly.

"They gave her a military funeral this evening,--the Fourth Cuirassiers.
The Emperor gave his permission, and sent General Degeon of the staff
to be present. And when they placed her in the grave, one of the
soldiers,--a corporal, I believe,--kneeled down to kiss her before they
covered in the earth; and when he had done so, he lay slowly down on his
face on the grass. 'He has fainted,' said one of his comrades; and they
turned him on his back. _Morbleu!_ it was worse than that: he was stone
dead,--one of the very finest fellows of the regiment!"

"Yes, yes! I know him," muttered I, endeavoring to smother my emotion.

The general looked at me as if my mind was wandering, and briefly
added,--

"And so they laid them in the same grave, and the same fusillade gave
the last honors to both."

"Your story has affected my patient overmuch, General," said the doctor;
"you must leave him to himself for some time."

CHAPTER XL. FONTAINEBLEAU

An order from Berthier, written at the command of the Emperor, admitted
me into the ancient Palace of Fontainebleau, where I lay for upwards
of two months under my wound. Twice had fever nearly brought me to
the grave; but youth and unimpaired health succored me, and I rallied
through all. A surgeon of the staff accompanied me, and by