oring as he said them.

"You are a dragoon, I think?" said I, endeavoring to change the topic.

"I was, two days ago, _chasseur a cheval_, a sous-lieutenant, in the
regiment of my father, the General St. Croix."

"The name is familiar to me," I replied, "and I am sincerely happy to be in
a position to serve the son of so distinguished an officer."

"The son of so distinguished an officer is most deeply obliged, but wishes
with all his heart and soul he had never sought glory under such very
excellent auspices. You look surprised, _mon cher_; but let me tell you,
my military ardor is considerably abated in the last three days. Hunger,
thirst, imprisonment, and this"--lifting his wounded limb as he spoke--"are
sharp lessons in so short a campaign, and for one too, whose life hitherto
had much more of ease than adventure to boast of. Shall I tell you how I
became a soldier?"

"By all means; give me your glass first; and now, with a fresh log to the
fire, I'm your man."

"But stay; before I begin, look to this."

The blood was flowing rapidly from his wound, which with some difficulty I
succeeded in stanching. He drank off his wine hastily, held out his glass
to be refilled, and then began his story.

"You have never seen the Emperor?"

"Never."

"_Sacrebleu!_ What a man he is! I'd rather stand under the fire of your
grenadiers, than meet his eye. When in a passion, he does not say much, it
is true; but what he does, comes with a kind of hissing, rushing sound,
while the very fire seems to kindle in his look. I have him before me this
instant, and though you will confess that my present condition has nothing
very pleasing in it, I should be sorry indeed to change it for the last
time I stood in his presence.

"Two months ago I sported the gay light-blue and silver of a page to the
Emperor, and certainly, what with balls, _bonbons_, flirtation, gossip,
and champagne suppers, led a very gay, reckless, and indolent life of it.
Somehow,--I may tell you more accurately at another period, if we ever
meet,--I got myself into disgrace, and as a punishment, was ordered
to absent myself from the Tuileries, and retire for some weeks to
Fontainebleau. Siberia to a Russian would scarcely be a heavier infliction
than was this banishment to me. There was no court, no levee, no military
parade, no ball, no opera. A small household of the Emperor's chosen
servants quietly kept house there. The gloomy walls re-echoed to no music;