The best reply to his question was to hasten down stairs and return with two small canvas bags in my hands.
“Here are one thousand guineas,” said I, laying them on the table.
While one of the general's aides-de-camp was counting and examining the gold, I repeated at his request the circumstances which brought me once again to France to serve under the banner of the Emperor.
“And your name, sir,” said he, as he seated himself to write, “is Thomas Burke, ci-devant captain of the Eighth Hussars of the Guard. Well, I can promise you the restoration of your old grade. Meanwhile, you must take command of these fellows. They are mere partisan troops, hurriedly raised, and ill organized; but I'll give you a letter to General Damrémont at Chalons, and he 'll attend to you.”
“It is not a position for myself I seek, General,” said I. “Wherever I can best serve the Emperor, there only I desire to be.”
“I have ventured to leave that point to General Damrémont,” said he, smiling. “Your motives do not require much explanation. Let us to breakfast now, and by noon we shall have everything in readiness for your departure.”
Thus rapidly, and as it were by the merest accident, was I again become a soldier of the Emperor; and that same day was once more at the head of a squadron, on my way to Châlons. My troop were, indeed, very unlike the splendid array of my old Hussars of the Guard. They were hurriedly raised, and not over well equipped, but still they were stout-looking, hardy peasants, who, whatever deficiency of drill they might display, I knew well would exhibit no lack of courage before an enemy.
On reaching Châlons, I found that General Damrémont had left with the staff for Vitry only a few hours before; and so I reported myself to the officer commanding the town, and was ordered by him to join the cavalry brigade then advancing on Vitry.
Had I time at this moment, I could not help devoting some minutes to an account of that strange and motley mass which then were brigaded as Imperial cavalry. Dragoons of every class, heavy and light-armed,—grenadiers à cheval and hussars, cuirassiers, carbineers, and lancers,—were all, pell-mell, mixed up confusedly together, and hurried onwards; some to join their respective corps if they could find them, but all prepared to serve wherever their sabres might be called for. It was confusion to the last degree; but a tumult without enthusiasm or impulse. The superior officers, who were well acquainted with the state of events, made no secret of their gloomy forebodings; the juniors lacked energy in a cause where they saw no field for advancement; and the soldiers, always prepared to imbibe their feelings from their officers, seemed alike sad and dispirited.
What a change was this from the wild and joyous spirit which once animated every grade and class,—from the generous enthusiasm that once warmed each bold heart, and made every soldier a hero! Alas! the terrible consequences of long defeat were on all. The tide of battle that rolled disastrously from the ruined walls of the Kremlin still swept along towards the great Palace of the Tuileries. Germany had witnessed the destruction of two mighty armies; the third and last was now awaiting the eventful struggle on the very soil of their country. The tide of fugitives, which preceded the retiring columns of Victor and Ney, met the advancing bodies of the conscripts, and spread dismay and consternation as they went.