‘Yes, yes, very true; so you might, I’ve no doubt; but my staff is full—I ‘ve no vacancy. What’s to be done now? Lestocque, have we any spare cattle?’
‘Yes, general; we’ve your own eight horses, and two of Gambronne’s.’
‘Ah, poor fellow, he ‘ll not want them more. I suppose Tiernay may as well take one of them, at least.’
‘There’s an undress uniform, too, of Cambronne’s would fit Monsieur de Tiernay,’ said the officer, who, I saw, had no fancy for my motley costume alongside of him.
‘Oh, Tiernay doesn’t care for that; he’s too old a soldier to bestow a thought upon the colour of his jacket,’ said Masséna.
‘Pardon me, general, but it is exactly one of my weaknesses; and I feel that until I get rid of these trappings I shall never feel myself a soldier.’
‘I thought you had been made of other stuff,’ muttered the general, ‘and particularly since there’s like to be little love-making in the present campaign.’ And with that he rode forward, leaving me to follow when I could.
‘These are Cambronne’s keys,’ said Lestocque, ‘and you’ll find enough for your present wants in the saddlebags. Take the grey, he’s the better horse, and come up with us as fast as you can.’
I saw that I had forfeited something of General Masséna’s good opinion by my dandyism; but I was consoled in a measure for the loss, as I saw the price at which I bought the forfeiture. The young officer, who had fallen three days before, and was a nephew of the General Gambronne, was a lieutenant in Murat’s celebrated corps, the Lancers of ‘Berg,’ whose uniform was the handsomest in the French army. Even the undress scarlet frock and small silver helmet were more splendid than many full parade uniforms; and as I attired myself in these brilliant trappings, I secretly vowed that the Austrians should see them in some conspicuous position ere a month was over. If I had but one sigh for the poor fellow to whose galanterie I succeeded, I had many a smile for myself as I passed and repassed before the glass, adjusting a belt, or training an aigrette to fall more gracefully. While thus occupied, I felt something heavy clink against my leg, and opening the sabretache, discovered a purse containing upwards of forty golden Napoleons and some silver. It was a singular way to succeed to a ‘heritage’ I thought, but, with the firm resolve to make honest restitution, I replaced the money where I found it, and descended the stairs, my sabre jingling and my spurs clanking, to the infinite admiration of the hostess and her handmaiden, who looked on my transformation as a veritable piece of magic.
I’m sure Napoleon himself had not framed one-half as many plans for that campaign as I did while I rode along. By a close study of the map, and the aid of all the oral information in my power, I had at length obtained a tolerably accurate notion of the country; and I saw, or I thought I saw, at least, half-a-dozen distinct ways of annihilating the Austrians. I have often since felt shame, even to myself, at the effrontery with which I discussed the great manoeuvres going forward, and the unblushing coolness with which I proffered my opinions and my criticisms; and I really believe that General Masséna tolerated my boldness rather for the amusement it afforded him than from any other cause.