“You speak French, sir?” and as I replied in the affirmative, continued:—
“Will you, then, have the goodness to follow me this way?”
Although burning with anxiety to learn what had taken place, yet somehow I could not bring myself to ask the question. A secret pride mingled with my fear that all had not gone well with us, and I durst not expose myself to hear of our defeat from the lips of an enemy. I had barely time to ask into whose presence I was about to be ushered, when with a slight smile of a strange meaning, he opened the door and introduced me into the saloon. Although I had seen at least twelve or fourteen horsemen arrive, there were but three persons in the room as I entered. One of these, who sat writing at a small table near the window, never lifted his head on my entrance, but continued assiduously his occupation. Another, a tall, fine-looking man of some sixty years or upward, whose high, bald forehead and drooping mustache, white as snow, looked in every way the old soldier of the empire, stood leaning upon his sabre; while the third, whose stature, somewhat below the middle size, was yet cast in a strong and muscular mould, stood with his back to the fire, holding on his arms the skirts of a gray surtout which he wore over his uniform; his legs were cased in the tall bottes à l’écuyère worn by the chasseur à cheval, and on his head a low cocked hat, without plume or feather, completed his costume. There was something which, at the very moment of my entrance, struck me as uncommon in his air and bearing, so much so that when my eyes had once rested on his pale but placid countenance, his regular, handsome, but somewhat stern features, I totally forgot the presence of the others and looked only at him.
“What’s your rank, sir?” said he, hurriedly, and with a tone which bespoke command.
“I have none at present, save—”
“Why do you wear your epaulettes then, sir?” said he, harshly, while from his impatient look, and hurried gesture, I saw that he put no faith in my reply.
“I am an aide-de-camp to General Picton, but without regimental rank.”
“What was the British force under arms yesterday?”
“I do not feel at liberty to give you any information as to the number or the movements of our army.”
“Diantre! Diantre!” said he, slapping his boot with his horsewhip, “do you know what you’ve been saying there, eh? Cambronne, you heard him, did you?”