“But stay, my boy, do not be rash in this affair. I will not insult your better feeling by dwelling on the little power I possess, and the very great enjoyed by Marshal Murat, of serving your interests; but I must say, that with him, and on his personal staff, opportunities of distinction—”
“And here I must interpose,” said the colonel, smiling courteously: “with no officer in this army can a man expect to see service, in its boldest and most heroic colors, rather than with General d'Auvergne.”
“I know it,—I feel it, too; and with him, if he will allow me—”
“Enough, my dear boy,” said the old man, grasping my hand in his. “Colonel, you must explain to the marshal how stands this matter; and he is too kind of heart and too noble of soul to think the worse of any of us for our obstinacy. And now, my young friend, make your arrangements to join the compagnie d'élite; they march to-morrow afternoon,—and this is a service you cannot decline. Leave me to make your acknowledgments to the marshal, and lose no more time here.”
Short as had been my absence from my quarters, when I re-entered, I descried Tascher seated at the table, and busily employed in discussing the last fragments of my supper.
“You see, my dear friend,” said he, speaking with his mouth full,—“you see what it is to have a salmi for supper. I sat eating a confounded mess of black bread, and blacker veal, for fifteen minutes, when the breeze brought me the odor of your delicious plat. It was in vain I summoned all my virtue to resist it; if there ever was a dish made to seduce a subaltern on service, it is this. But, I say, won't you eat something?”
“I fear not,” said I, half angrily.
“And why?” replied he. “See what a capital wing that is,—a little bare, to be sure; and there's the back of a pigeon. Ma foi! you have no reason to complain. I say, is it true you are named among the compagnie d'élite?”
I nodded, and ate on.
“Diable! there never was such fortune. What a glorious exchange for this confounded swamp, with its everlasting drill from morning to night,—shivering under arms for four hours, and shaking with the ague the rest of the day after,—marching, mid-leg in water, half frozen, and trying quick movements, when the very blood is in icicles! And then you 'll be enjoying Paris,—delightful Paris!—dining at the 'Rocher,' supping at the 'Cadran,' lounging into the salons, at the very time we shall be hiding ourselves amidst the straw of our bivouacs. I go mad to think of it. And, what's worse than all, there you sit, as little elated as if the whole thing were only the most natural in the world. I believe, on my word, you 'd not condescend to be surprised if you were gazetted Maréchal de France in to-morrow's gazette.”