“No, indeed,” observed a grim-visaged Guide, who sat next to Bessieres. “Our[Bessieres. “Our] soldiers called the troops of the Rhine the contingent, and treated them with the greatest contempt before the battle. A number of sabre cuts were exchanged on account of this raillery. But the contingent proved themselves worthy of any army at Tagliamento. They drove the Austrians before them like a flock of sheep.”[sheep.”]
“All acted in a manner worthy of France,” said Lemarois. “The archduke was routed and the line of the Tagliamento cleared in a remarkably short time.”
“What is the name of that general of cavalry who was captured?” inquired one of the Guides—a burly fellow, with a good-humored cast of countenance.
“I forget his name,” replied Bessieres; “but I cannot forget that he is a brave man, and that he fought with a courage and resolution which put most of his countrymen to shame.
“To be just, however,” observed Lemarois, “there are many gallant officers in the Austrian army. It is not their fault if they have not a Bonaparte to bring victory to their standard. They have a large number of hearts following their flag, as intrepid as old Wurmser. But strange to say, they have never had a first class general.
“That’s about the truth of the matter,” commented the burly Guide.
“By the way, Jacques,” said Bessieres, “it seems to be getting colder as the night advances. Put on a little more of that wood. Its bad enough fuel, though, for it smokes abominably.”
Jacques was the burly Guide previously alluded to. He obeyed the order of his commander.
“The men outside ought to have plenty of provision to console them amid their sufferings on such a night. They will scarcely dare to sleep,” said Lemarois.
“I saw our general out among them a short time ago,” replied Bessieres. “A few sympathetic words from him will do more than any amount of provision.”