e than himself of forming a just
judgment on the question, while he felt, inwardly, the inequality of the
cause for which he would do battle against--that glorious and triumphant
one of which the young officer assumed the championship.

Besides, De Liancourt's history was his own; he had been bred up with
convictions precisely like his, and might, had he followed out the path
intended for him, been a priest at the very hour that he led a charge at
Lodi.

"I was saved by an accident," said he. "In the march of Berthault's
division through Chalons, a little drummer-boy fell off a waggon when
asleep, and was wounded by a wheel passing over him: they brought him to
our chateau, where we nursed and tended him till he grew well. The Cure,
wishing to snatch him as a brand saved from the burning, adopted him,
and made him an acolyte; and so he remained till one Sunday morning,
when the 'Chasseurs gris' marched through the town during mass. Pierre
stole out to see the soldiers; he heard a march he had often listened to
before; he saw the little drummers stepping out gaily in front; worse,
too, _they_ saw him, and one called out to his comrades, 'Regarde donc
le Pretre; ce petit drole la--c'est un Pretre.'

"'Du tout,' cried he; tearing off his white robe, and throwing it behind
him, 'Je suis tambour comme toi,' and snatching the drum, he beat his
'Ran tap-plan' so vigorously and so well, that the drum-major patted him
on the head and cheek, and away marched Pierre at the head of the troop,
leaving Chalons, and Cure, and all behind him, without a thought or a
pang.

"I saw it all from the window of the church; and suddenly, as my eyes
turned from the grand spectacle of the moving column, with its banners
flying and bayonets glistening, to the dim, half-lighted aisles of
the old church, with smoky tapers burning faintly, amid which an old
decrepid priest was moving slowly, a voice within me cried,--'Better a
_tambour_, than this!' I stole out, and reached the street just as the
last files were passing: I mingled with the crowd that followed, my
heart beating time to the quick march. I tracked them out of the town,
further and further, till we reached the wide open country.

"'Will you not come back, Pierre?' said I, pulling him by the sleeve,
as, at last, I reached the leading files, where the little fellow
marched, proud as the tambour-major.

"'_I_ go back, and the regiment marching against the enemy!' exclaimed
he, indig