icasse and the Recollections of de
Fezenac and of de Segur complete the materials from which I have worked
in my endeavour to give a true historical and military atmosphere to an
imaginary figure.

ARTHUR CONAN DOYLE.

March, 1903.

CONTENTS

I. HOW BRIGADIER GERARD LOST HIS EAR

II. HOW THE BRIGADIER CAPTURED SARAGOSSA

III. HOW THE BRIGADIER SLEW THE FOX

IV. HOW THE BRIGADIER SAVED THE ARMY

V. HOW THE BRIGADIER TRIUMPHED IN ENGLAND

VI. HOW THE BRIGADIER RODE TO MINSK

VII. HOW THE BRIGADE BORE HIMSELF AT WATERLOO

VIII. THE LAST ADVENTURE OF THE BRIGADIER

I. How Brigadier Gerard Lost His Ear

It was the old Brigadier who was talking in the cafe.

I have seen a great many cities, my friends. I would not dare to tell
you how many I have entered as a conqueror with eight hundred of my
little fighting devils clanking and jingling behind me. The cavalry were
in front of the Grande Armee, and the Hussars of Conflans were in front
of the cavalry, and I was in front of the Hussars. But of all the cities
which we visited Venice is the most ill-built and ridiculous. I cannot
imagine how the people who laid it out thought that the cavalry could
manoeuvre. It would puzzle Murat or Lassalle to bring a squadron into
that square of theirs. For this reason we left Kellermann's heavy
brigade and also my own Hussars at Padua on the mainland. But
Suchet with the infantry held the town, and he had chosen me as his
aide-de-camp for that winter, because he was pleased about the affair
of the Italian fencing-master at Milan. The fellow was a good swordsman,
and it was fortunate for the credit of French arms that it was I who was
opposed to him. Besides, he deserved a lesson, for if one does not like
a prima donna's singing one can always be silent, but it is intolerable
that a public affront should be put upon a pretty woman. So the sympathy
was all with me, and after the affair had blown over and the man's widow
had been pensioned Suchet chose me as his own galloper, and I followed
him to Venice, where I had the strange adventure which I am about to
tell you.

You have not been to Venice? No, for it is seldom that the French
travel. We were great travellers in those days. From Moscow to Cairo
we had travelled everywhere, but we went in larger parties than were
convenient to those whom we visited, and we carried our passports in
our