“‘Indeed!’
“‘My husband sold the horse the next day to one of our generals, who forgot to pay for it after my husband was killed. As for the scymitar and pistols, they were stolen from me that night: but what can you expect?—our army is brave, but a little demoralised. The next day we arrived before Constantine, and we had to defile before the enemy’s guns. At one portion of the road, men and horses were tumbled over by their fire; the caisson that I was riding upon was upset by a ball, and thrown down the ravine, dragging the horses after it. I lay among the horses’ legs—they kicking furiously; it was a miracle that my life was preserved: as it was—’
“‘You broke your nose,’ interrupted I.
“‘No, sir, indeed I did not. I only received a kick on the arm, which obliged me to carry it in a sling for some days. The weather became very bad; we had few tents, and they were not able to resist the storms of rain and wind. We wrapped ourselves up how we could, and sat in deep pools of water, and the Arabs attacked us before we could open the fire of our batteries; we were in such a pickle that, had the bad weather lasted, we must have retreated; and happy would those have been who could have once more found themselves safe in the camp of Mzez Ammar. I don’t think that I ever suffered so much as I did at that time—the weather had even overcome the natural gallantry of our nation; and so far from receiving any attention, the general remark to me was, “What the devil do you do here?” This to be said to a pretty woman!
“‘It was not till the 10th that we could manage to open the fire of our batteries. It was mud, mud, and mud again; the men and horses were covered with mud up to their necks—the feathers of the staff were covered with mud—every ball which was fired by the enemy sent up showers of mud; even the face of the Duc de Nemours was disfigured with it. I must say that our batteries were well situated, all except the great mortar battery. This I pointed out to Damremont when he passed me, and he was very savage. Great men don’t like to be told of their faults; however, he lost his life three days afterwards from not taking my advice. He was going down the hill with Rhullières when I said to him, “Mon Général, you expose yourself too much; that which is duty in a subaltern is a fault in a general.” He very politely told me to go to where he may chance to be himself now; for a cannonball struck him a few seconds afterwards, and he was killed on the spot. General Perregaux was severely wounded almost at the same time. For four days the fighting was awful; battery answered to battery night and day: while from every quarter of the compass we were exposed to the fierce attacks of the Arab cavalry. The commander of our army sent a flag of truce to their town, commanding them to surrender: and, what do you think was the reply?—“If you want powder, we’ll supply you; if you are without bread, we will send it to you: but as long as there is one good Mussulman left alive, you do not enter the town.”—Was not that grand? The very reply, when made known to the troops, filled them with admiration of their enemy, and they swore by their colours that if ever they overpowered them they would give them no quarter.
“‘In two days, General Vallée, to whom the command fell upon the death of Damremont, considered the breach sufficiently wide for the assault, and we every hour expected that the order would be given. It came at last. My poor husband was in the second column which mounted. Strange to say, he was very melancholy on that morning, and appeared to have a presentiment of what was to take place. “Coralie,” said he to me, as he was scraping the mud off his trousers with his pocket-knife, “if I fall, you will do well. I leave you as a legacy to General Vallée—he will appreciate you. Do not forget to let him know my testamentary dispositions.”
“‘I promised I would not. The drums beat. He kissed me on both cheeks. “Go, my Philippe,” said I; “go to glory.” He did; for a mine was sprung, and he with many others was blown to atoms. I had watched the advance of the column and was able to distinguish the form of my dear Philippe when the explosion with the vast column of smoke took place. When it cleared away, I could see the wounded in every direction hastening back; but my husband was not among them. In the mean time the other columns entered the breach—the firing was awful, and the carnage dreadful. It was more than an hour after the assault commenced before the French tricolor waved upon the minarets of Constantine.
“‘It was not until the next day that I could make up my mind to search for my husband’s body; but it was my duty. I climbed up the breach, strewed with the corpses of our brave soldiers, intermingled with those of the Arabs; but I could not find my husband. At last a head which had been blown off attracted my attention. I examined it—it was my Philippe’s, blackened and burnt, and terribly disfigured: but who can disguise the fragment of a husband from the keen eyes of the wife of his bosom? I leaned over it. “My poor Philippe!” exclaimed I: and the tears were bedewing my cheeks when I perceived the Duc de Nemours close to me, with all his staff attending him. “What have we here?” said he with surprise, to those about him. “A wife, looking for her husband’s body, mon prince,” replied I. “I cannot find it; but here is his head.” He said something very complimentary and kind, and then walked on. I continued my search without success, and determined to take up my quarters in the town. As I clambered along, I gained a battered wall; and, putting my foot on it it gave way with me, and I fell down several feet. Stunned with the blow, I remained for some time insensible; when I came to, I found—’
“‘That you had broken your nose.’
“‘No, indeed; I had sprained my ankle and hurt the cap of my knee, but my nose was quite perfect. You must have a little patience yet.