The Colonel (now apparent through the thick fog, with a group of misty figures behind him). Do I interrupt you, gentlemen?
Boutroux (with great respect). My Colonel, I had the misfortune to be separated from my troop during the fog, but I have taken this man (pointing at the Austrian with his sword) prisoner, but only after a sharp passage of arms, during which, my Colonel, I have been wounded. (He points to the scratch on his cheek.)
Colonel (coldly). Lieutenant Boutroux, you shall have forty days. (He turns to a soldier.) Undo that scrimmage of bridles. (The soldier obeys him. He turns to Metris with great courtesy.) I take it, sir, you are an officer in the forces of the Emperor and that you hold his commission?
Metris. Undoubtedly.
Colonel. Then, sir, you will follow me, for I take it you constitute yourself my prisoner. (Turning to an officer upon his right.) Major Clement, you will see to the enforcement of my sentence upon Lieutenant Boutroux. Pray add upon the record that he jested with a superior officer when discovered, separated from his command, fencing with a member of the enemy's forces. The Brigadier may deal with the complaint as he chooses.
Boutroux. Upon my soul, the longer I follow it, the less I comprehend the career of arms!
THE SPANIARD
When I was in the French Army I met many men who had a constant tradition of the military past. These were not in the regiment, but one came across them in the garrison town where we were quartered, and among others there was an old man whose father had fought in the Peninsula and who retained a very vivid family memory of those wars. From this old man I gathered in particular what I had learned in general from reading, an impression of the Spaniard as a soldier, but that impression was false. It was false for many reasons, but chiefly for this: that Spain, like the United Kingdom, is very highly differentiated indeed, and province differs from province to an extent hardly ever grasped by those who have never visited the country.