anecdote, the ready, hearty companionship
which lightened the soldier's life in the trenches: adieu to
impatience, to despair, even to gravity. The very generals could not
maintain their seriousness when the light-hearted De Grammont uttered a
repartee--

'Sworn enemy to all long speeches,
Lively and brilliant, frank and free,
Author of many a repartee:
Remember, over all, that he
Was not renowned for storming breaches.'

Where he came, all was sunshine, yet there breathed not a colder, graver
man than the Calvinist Turenne: modest, serious, somewhat hard, he gave
the young nobility who served under him no quarter in their
shortcomings; but a word, a look, from De Grammont could make him,
_malgre lui_, unbend. The gay chevalier's white charger's prancing, its
gallant rider foremost in every peril, were not forgotten in
after-times, when De Grammont, in extreme old age, chatted over the
achievements and pleasures of his youth.

Amongst those who courted his society in Turenne's army was Matta, a
soldier of simple manners, hard habits, and handsome person, joined to a
candid, honest nature. He soon persuaded De Grammont to share his
quarters, and there they gave splendid entertainments, which,
Frenchman-like, De Grammont paid for out of the successes of the
gaming-tables. But chances were against them; the two officers were at
the mercy of their _maitre d'hotel_, who asked for money. One day, when
De Grammont came home sooner than usual, he found Matta fast asleep.
Whilst De Grammont stood looking at him, he awoke, and burst into a
violent fit of laughter.

'What is the matter?' cried the chevalier.

'Faith, chevalier,' answered Matta, 'I was dreaming that we had sent
away our _maitre d'hotel_, and were resolved to live like our neighbours
for the rest of the campaign.'

'Poor fellow!' cried De Grammont. 'So, you are knocked down at once:
what would have become of you if you had been reduced to the situation I
was in at Lyons, four days before I came here? Come, I will tell you all
about it.'

'Begin a little farther back,' cried Matta, 'and tell me about the
manner in which you first paid your respects to Cardinal Richelieu. Lay
aside your pranks as a child, your genealogy, and all your ancestors
together; you cannot know anything about them.'

'Well,' replied De Grammont, 'it was my father's own fault that he was
not Henry IV.'s son: see what the Grammonts have lost by this
cr