was not I, but he, who said that a gallant beast deserves a gallant
rider. Then, when for the third time, with my panache flying and my
dolman streaming behind me, I thundered past him, I saw upon his hard
old face that he had no longer any doubt that he had chosen the man for
his purpose. I drew my sabre, raised the hilt to my lips in salute, and
galloped on to my own quarters.

Already the news had spread that I had been chosen for a mission, and
my little rascals came swarming out of their tents to cheer me. Ah!
it brings the tears to my old eyes when I think how proud they were of
their Colonel.

And I was proud of them also. They deserved a dashing leader.

The night promised to be a stormy one, which was very much to my liking.
It was my desire to keep my departure most secret, for it was evident
that if the English heard that I had been detached from the army they
would naturally conclude that something important was about to happen.
My horse was taken, therefore, beyond the picket line, as if for
watering, and I followed and mounted him there. I had a map, a compass,
and a paper of instructions from the Marshal, and with these in the
bosom of my tunic and my sabre at my side I set out upon my adventure.

A thin rain was falling and there was no moon, so you may imagine that
it was not very cheerful. But my heart was light at the thought of
the honour which had been done me and the glory which awaited me. This
exploit should be one more in that brilliant series which was to change
my sabre into a baton. Ah, how we dreamed, we foolish fellows, young,
and drunk with success! Could I have foreseen that night as I rode,
the chosen man of sixty thousand, that I should spend my life planting
cabbages on a hundred francs a month! Oh, my youth, my hopes, my
comrades! But the wheel turns and never stops. Forgive me, my friends,
for an old man has his weakness.

My route, then, lay across the face of the high ground of Torres Vedras,
then over a streamlet, past a farmhouse which had been burned down and
was now only a landmark, then through a forest of young cork oaks, and
so to the monastery of San Antonio, which marked the left of the English
position. Here I turned south and rode quietly over the downs, for it
was at this point that Massena thought that it would be most easy for me
to find my way unobserved through the position. I went very slowly,
for it was so dark that I could not see my hand in front of me. In