‘“Send him to me, and leave us alone.”
‘In a few moments Colonel Aubuisson entered. His arm was in a sling from a sabre-wound he had received the morning before, but which did not prevent his remaining on duty. The stout soldier seemed as unconcerned and fearless in that dreadful moment as though it were a day of gala manoeuvres, and not one of disaster and defeat.
‘“Aubuisson,” said the Emperor, “you were with us at Alexandria?”
‘“I was, sire,” said he, as a deeper tinge coloured his bronzed features.
‘“The first in the rampart—I remember it well,” said Napoleon; “the ordre du jour commemorates the deed. It was at Moscow you gained the cross, I believe?” continued he, after a slight pause.
‘“I never obtained it, sire,” replied Aubuisson, with a struggle to repress some disappointment in his tone.
‘“How, never obtained it!—you, Aubuisson, an ancient brave of the Pyramids! Come, come, there has been a mistake somewhere; we must look to this. Meanwhile, General Aubuisson, take mine.”
‘With that he detached his cordon from the breast of his uniform, and fastened it on the coat of the astonished officer, who could only mutter the words, “Sire, sire!” in reply.
‘“Now, then, for a service you must render me, and speedily, too,” said Napoleon, as he laid his hand on the general’s shoulder.
‘The Emperor whispered for some seconds in his ear, then looked at him fixedly in the face. “What!” cried he, “do you hesitate?”