He. “M. le Capitaine, accept the assurances of my high consideration.”
I. “M. le Vicomte, I have intelligence which no doubt will gratify you. It will be my pleasing duty to attend you to the frontiers, there to be exchanged.”
He (with nonchalance). “For an Englishman? or for a Spaniard?”
I. “Happily, you are considered my prisoner, not a prisoner of the Spaniards. You will be exchanged for an English officer of the same military rank.”
He. “Very good” (with much dignity). “That is quite satisfactory to my sense of honour. Were it for a Spaniard, I hardly know whether I could condescend to accept of the exchange. By the by, since it is as your prisoner that I am to proceed to the frontiers, I think it best, for reasons which you will doubtless appreciate, that so long as we are together I should fully maintain that character. M. le Capitaine, I offer you my sword.”
I. “M. le Vicomte, you have taught me that you can use your sword not only with courage and address, but with magnanimity. Wear it.”
The arrangements for our departure were soon completed. My sick men were conveyed to Vittoria. With them went Sergeant Pegden in charge, and the four French soldiers as prisoners to the English. Then, taking an affectionate leave of the Padre, we joined a party of British dragoons, who had been out on a reconnaissance towards Pampeluna, and with them pursued our route towards the frontiers.
The first day’s march took us across undulating ground, the road alternately dipping into valleys, and topping the intermediate elevations. As the Vicomte and I jogged on side by side, I noticed that, on our reaching the summit of each successive eminence, he cast a furtive but anxious look backwards, as if watching for some party in the rear. I also looked back, and perceived that we were followed by a couple of mules, which bore on their backs two wounded Spaniards.
ש.