ome questions concerning the army
of Germany and as to the part which I had myself played in the campaign.
Flushed with the wine, I was drawn on from story to story. It was not
unnatural, my friends.

You will sympathise with me. Up there I had been the model for every
officer of my years in the army. I was the first swordsman, the most
dashing rider, the hero of a hundred adventures. Here I found myself not
only unknown, but even disliked. Was it not natural that I should wish
to tell these brave comrades what sort of man it was that had come
among them? Was it not natural that I should wish to say, "Rejoice, my
friends, rejoice! It is no ordinary man who has joined you to-night, but
it is I, THE Gerard, the hero of Ratisbon, the victor of Jena, the man
who broke the square at Austerlitz"? I could not say all this. But I
could at least tell them some incidents which would enable them to say
it for themselves. I did so. They listened unmoved. I told them more. At
last, after my tale of how I had guided the army across the Danube, one
universal shout of laughter broke from them all. I sprang to my feet,
flushed with shame and anger. They had drawn me on. They were making
game of me. They were convinced that they had to do with a braggart and
a liar. Was this my reception in the Hussars of Conflans?

I dashed the tears of mortification from my eyes, and they laughed the
more at the sight.

"Do you know, Captain Pelletan, whether Marshal Lannes is still with the
army?" asked the major.

"I believe that he is, sir," said the other.

"Really, I should have thought that his presence was hardly necessary
now that Captain Gerard has arrived."

Again there was a roar of laughter. I can see the ring of faces, the
mocking eyes, the open mouths--Olivier with his great black bristles,
Pelletan thin and sneering, even the young sub-lieutenants convulsed
with merriment. Heavens, the indignity of it! But my rage had dried my
tears. I was myself again, cold, quiet, self-contained, ice without and
fire within.

"May I ask, sir," said I to the major, "at what hour the regiment is
paraded?"

"I trust, Captain Gerard, that you do not mean to alter our hours," said
he, and again there was a burst of laughter, which died away as I looked
slowly round the circle.

"What hour is the assembly?" I asked, sharply, of Captain Pelletan.

Some mocking answer was on his tongue, but my glance kept it there. "The
assembly is at six," he ans