me on without roll of drum and sound of fife. I watched
with a soldier's pride the manly bearing and gallant step of the dense mass
as they defiled before me. I was struck no less by them than by a certain
look of a steady but sombre cast which each man wore.

"What can this mean?" thought I.

My first impression was, that a military execution was about to take place,
the next moment solved my doubt; for as the last files of the grenadiers
wheeled round, a dense mass behind came in sight, whose unarmed hands, and
downcast air, at once bespoke them prisoners-of-war.

What a sad sight it was! There was the old and weather-beaten grenadier,
erect in frame and firm in step, his gray mustache scarcely concealing
the scowl that curled his lip, side by side with the young and daring
conscript, even yet a mere boy; their march was regular, their gaze
steadfast,--no look of flinching courage there. On they came, a long
unbroken line. They looked not less proudly than their captors around them.
As I looked with heavy heart upon them, my attention was attracted to one
who marched alone behind the rest. He was a middle-sized but handsome youth
of some eighteen years at most; his light helmet and waving plume bespoke
him a _chasseur a cheval_, and I could plainly perceive, in his careless
half-saucy air, how indignantly he felt the position to which the fate of
war had reduced him. He caught my eyes fixed upon him, and for an instant
turned upon me a gaze of open and palpable defiance, drawing himself up
to his full height, and crossing his arms upon his breast; but probably
perceiving in my look more of interest than of triumph, his countenance
suddenly changed, a deep blush suffused his cheek, his eye beamed with a
softened and kindly expression, and carrying his hand to his helmet, he
saluted me, saying, in a voice of singular sweetness,--

_"Je vous souhaite un meilleur sort, camarade."_

I bowed, and muttering something in return, was about to make some inquiry
concerning him, when the loud call of the trumpet rang through the valley,
and apprised me that, in my interest for the prisoners, I had forgotten all
else, and was probably incurring censure for my absence.

CHAPTER XLVII.

THE REVIEW.

When I joined the group of my brother officers, who stood gayly chatting
and laughing together before our lines, I was much surprised--nay almost
shocked--to find how little seeming impression had been made upon them, by