r a name would
strike upon my ear, but leave no impression nor any memory behind it.

The military band was performing various marches and opera airs before the
tent where the general dined, and in the melody, softened by distance, I
felt a kind of calm and sleepy repose that lulled me into a species of
ecstasy.

At last the music ceased to play, and the adjutant, starting hurriedly up,
called on the sergeant to move forward.

"By Jove!" cried he, "they seem preparing for a promenade, and we shall
get into a scrape if Berthier sees us here. Keep your party yonder,
sergeant, out of sight, till I obtain the signature."

And so saying, away he went toward the tent at a sharp gallop.

A few seconds, and I watched him crossing the esplanade; he dismounted and
disappeared. A terrible choking sensation was over me, and I scarcely was
conscious that they were again tying my hands. The adjutant came out
again, and made a sign with his sword.

"We are to move on!" said the sergeant, half in doubt.

"Not at all," broke in the aid-de-camp; "he is making a sign for you to
bring up the prisoner! There, he is repeating the signal; lead him
forward."

I knew very little of how--less still of why--but we moved on in the
direction of the tent, and in a few minutes stood before it. The sounds of
revelry and laughter, the crash of voices, and the clink of glasses,
together with the hoarse bray of the brass band, which again struck up,
all were co-mingled in my brain, as, taking me by the arm, I was led
forward within the tent, and found myself at the foot of a table covered
with all the gorgeousness of silver plate, and glowing with bouquets of
flowers and fruits. In the one hasty glance I gave, before my lids fell
over my swimming eyes, I could see the splendid uniforms of the guests as
they sat around the board, and the magnificent costume of a lady in the
place of honor next the head.

Several of those who sat at the lower end of the table drew back their
seats as I came forward, and seemed as if desirous to give the general a
better view of me.

Overwhelmed by the misery of my fate, as I stood awaiting my death, I felt
as though a mere word, a look, would have crushed me but one moment back;
but now, as I stood there, before that group of gazers, whose eyes scanned
me with looks of insolent disdain, or still more insulting curiosity, a
sense of proud defiance seized me, to confront and dare them with glances
haughty and sco