A few seconds, and I watched him crossing the esplanade; he dismounted and disappeared. A terrible choking sensation was over me, and I scarcely was conscious that they were again tying my hands. The adjutant came out again, and made a sign with his sword.
“We are to move on!” said the sergeant, half in doubt.
“Not at all,” broke in the aid-de-camp; “he is making a sign for you to bring up the prisoner! There, he is repeating the signal; lead him forward.”
I knew very little of how—less still of why—but we moved on in the direction of the tent, and in a few minutes stood before it. The sounds of revelry and laughter, the crash of voices, and the clink of glasses, together with the hoarse bray of the brass band, which again struck up, all were co-mingled in my brain, as, taking me by the arm, I was led forward within the tent, and found myself at the foot of a table covered with all the gorgeousness of silver plate, and glowing with bouquets of flowers and fruits. In the one hasty glance I gave, before my lids fell over my swimming eyes, I could see the splendid uniforms of the guests as they sat around the board, and the magnificent costume of a lady in the place of honor next the head.
Several of those who sat at the lower end of the table drew back their seats as I came forward, and seemed as if desirous to give the general a better view of me.
Overwhelmed by the misery of my fate, as I stood awaiting my death, I felt as though a mere word, a look, would have crushed me but one moment back; but now, as I stood there, before that group of gazers, whose eyes scanned me with looks of insolent disdain, or still more insulting curiosity, a sense of proud defiance seized me, to confront and dare them with glances haughty and scornful as their own. It seemed to me so base and unworthy a part to summon a poor wretch before them, as if to whet their new appetite for enjoyment by the aspect of his misery, that an indignant anger took possession of me, and I drew myself up to my full height, and stared at them calm and steadily.
“So, then!” cried a deep soldier-like voice from the far-end of the table, which I at once recognized as the general-in-chief's; “so, then, gentlemen, we have now the honor of seeing among us the hero of the Rhine! This is the distinguished individual by whose prowess the passage of the river was effected, and the Swabian infantry cut off in their retreat! Is it not true, sir?” said he, addressing me with a savage scowl.
“I have had my share in the achievement!” said I, with a cool air of defiance.
“Parbleu! you are modest, sir. So had every drummer-boy that beat his tattoo! But yours was the part of a great leader, if I err not?”
I made no answer, but stood firm and unmoved.