My guardsman, Thomas, who had continued his journey, had by this time nearly reached his destination. After a sharp gallop I caught him, and just in time to rescue the piece of beef he had carried safely so far. I found him drinking brandy with several of the French Imperial Guard, at their canteen; and he was exhibiting the choice piece, which I had wrapped up so carefully in a cloth and packed in a basket. It was the admiration of all who formed the merry group. They said to him, “Anglais roast-beef—bono Johnny.” This was all their conversation upon the subject previous to its capture, which I have no doubt would have been the case had I not made my appearance. Seeing the imminent danger in which the choice morsel was placed, and aware that nothing but a ruse de guerre could rescue it from the hands of the enemy—
“Thomas,” said I, in French, “how dare you stop drinking in this way, when you know that General Canrobert must have that beef roasted for his dinner; and it is already past three o’clock. (“By Jupiter!” said one of them, “it’s no go—it’s for the Commander-in-Chief.”) Go along with you! (He began to inquire what I said.) Don’t answer me, sir, or you shall have a night in the guard-house. Pray, my fine fellow, which is the nearest way to the French head-quarters? I had better carry it myself—I shall be there first. Give it me,” said I, taking the basket, and ordering Thomas to follow.
Bidding the astonished soldiers adieu, I galloped off with my prize. Upon arriving at head-quarters, I rated Thomas for his stupidity, and went to the kitchen to ask for a large dish to put the beef on. It quite astonished Monsieur Armand, as he had seen none of that quality before. Indeed, it contrasted strangely with some beef he had upon the table.
“You are more comfortable now,” I said, “since those few additions have been made to your kitchen?”
“Very much so; and I am extremely obliged to you for what you have done.”
“You have a very good roasting fireplace. Will you be kind enough to have that piece of beef roasted to a turn for Lord Raglan’s dinner to-morrow, as it is Sunday?”
“Yes,” said he; “it comes quite à propos; and I will roast it as well as I can, but must suspend it by a cord, as I have no spit.”
“Do so—that will be more camp fashion; but pray don’t bake it, for that would spoil it, and you don’t know the trouble I had to get it as far as this in safety.”
I then told him about Thomas and the French soldiers, at which he could not help laughing, saying, “It has had a narrow escape, for those devils of Zouaves will steal the coat from your back. A few days ago they stole a whole sheep from that bit of a larder I have here in the yard.”
“You had better give it to the steward to keep in his pantry till to-morrow—it will then be safe.”