The little cap

by Mrs. Dundas

"May God, who has guided me here, enable me to save this little innocent!" exclaimed the good-hearted soldier. "Who can have been cruel enough to leave it?"

The infant appeared scarcely a year old. Its remarkable beauty struck Gaspard, even in that moment of danger. He raised it gently from the couch without awaking it, then hastily wrapping it in a large mantle, which had been thrown over it, he fastened it securely to his back as he would have done a knapsack; he then set to work to retrace his steps, anxious to escape ere surrounded by the devouring element, which, he was well aware, was gaining rapidly upon him. As he retraced his way dense smoke threatened to suffocate him; his knees shook under him, and more than once he was forced to stop to recover himself.

All around, he heard the crash of falling beams, succeeded by fresh bursts of flames, which threw a fearful glare on the surrounding objects. His situation was one of extreme peril. A short prayer for help burst from his lips, which was scarcely uttered ere, on turning suddenly round, he perceived a window opening on to a stone balcony. Gaspard rushed to it, and found it was no great height from the ground. Had he been alone, he would at once have leaped from it; as was, he proceeded more cautiously, and having his arms free, he was able to swing himself from the stone balustrade, and thus diminish the height he had to fall.

Great was his thankfulness on finding himself safe with his little charge, the more so that he now perceived that the fire was gaining rapidly on the part of the building from which he had just escaped. A few minutes more, and he might have been unable to gain the window from which he had just alighted. As he raised himself from the ground, the little infant uttered a faint cry, having been probably awakened by the fall. The good soldier hastened to disencumber it of its wrappings, so that it might breathe more freely. The little creature looked at its preserver, and smiled, seeming in no way alarmed at its new position. Gaspard having opened his flask of light wine, in order to moisten his own parched lips, ventured to give a few drops to the child, feeling sure it must have been sometime without nourishment. He then again carefully folded it in the mantle, and looked around to see how he could best find his way back to his comrades.

At this moment he heard the trumpet of recall, and the well-known and welcome sound guided him in which way to direct his steps. Gaspard hastened to obey the summons. On rejoining his brave companions in arms, he found it somewhat difficult to recognise them; they, like himself, were disfigured and blackened with smoke and dirt, their hair and beards singed and scorched. Gaspard was amongst the last of the stragglers, and his appearance was heartily welcomed, some fears having been entertained for his safety.

Presently a cry from the infant he had rescued attracted the notice and excited the curiosity of his fellow-soldiers. Gaspard quietly undid the bundle he carried, and displayed to the astonished gaze of those who stood around the beautiful child he had saved. A shout of laughter was the result, followed by such exclamations as—"Was that all you could find to bring away?"—"I would have had something better than that for my trouble."

There were others, however, who did silent justice to the courage and humanity of the good soldier, amongst whom was his captain, the young Baron Otto of Helfenstein. He approached the group, and listened with interest to Gaspard's short and simple account of his finding the child, whom, it was easy to perceive belonged to some one of high birth. Its clothes were of the finest texture and richly embroidered; whilst the fairness of its complexion and the beauty of its golden curls showed plainly that it had been carefully tended.

The young Baron summoned some of the French prisoners, in the hope that they might be able to give some information that might enable him to discover to whom the poor little infant belonged; but he could learn nothing respecting it.

"The little one must then remain with its preserver," said the Baron, addressing Gaspard, "till we can trace its parents; but you have already a wife and children. This will be another to provide for; you must let me help you and your good wife, if she is willing to take charge of this poor little one."

Gaspard thanked his captain with tears in his eyes; he felt more grateful for his approbation than for his promise of assistance, and with a light heart he resumed his precious charge.