French troops out of Corsica."

"From Corsica!" exclaimed the master. "Corsica belongs to France, and
you are a French cadet."

The boy shook his head solemnly. "Corsica should be free," he answered.
"We are more Italian than French. I hate your barbarous words, my tongue
trips over them. If I had my way no Frenchman would be left in the
island."

"Then it's well you don't have your way, Bonaparte," said Monsieur
Pichegru, laughing.

Suddenly the boy's brow clouded and his eyes grew serious. "You think I
shan't have my way then? You don't know me, no one knows me. Wait until
I grow up--then you shall see."

The master was used to this boy's strange fancies, and now he simply
shrugged his shoulders.

"Well, well, we'll wait and see, but you must learn to curb your temper
if you ever expect to do great things in the world."

"Why?" said the boy. "Must a general curb his temper? It's his part to
give orders, not to take them, and that, sir, is the part I mean to
play."

Again the master shrugged his shoulders, and the same quizzical smile
his face always wore when watching this boy lighted his eyes.

"At least we are agreed on one thing, Bonaparte; we both of us know the
most glorious profession in the world is that of the soldier. Ah, that I
might some day be a captain of artillery!"

"Why not?" said the boy. "Isn't all of Europe one big camp? Can't any
man rise who has strength to draw a sword? Believe me, Monsieur
Pichegru, if you really want to be a captain you shall be one."

The master glanced at the boy, and then looked quickly away. "You are a
strange lad, my little Spartan," said he. "I don't think I ever knew
a boy quite like you."

[Illustration: THE SNOW FORT AT BRIENNE]

The teacher moved away and the boy continued making his drawings with
the pointed stick.

By the time the afternoon had ended the square fort of snow was
finished. It was by far the finest fortification the boys of Brienne had
ever built. It had four bastions and a rampart three and one-half feet
long. Water was poured over the top and sides so that ice might form,
and it looked like a very difficult place to take. When he considered it
finished Bonaparte ordered the boys to quit work, and taking up a book
he had thrown on the ground before him he started to stroll up and down
by the farther wall of the parade. He was fond of walking here, book in
hand, studying some military treatise, and, though only a boy, he had
gained