In my heart I thought them a senseless, soulless crew, that could give themselves to dissipation and excess on the very eve, as it were, of our defeat, and with hasty steps I turned away into the side-street, where a large lamp, the only light to be seen, proclaimed General Humbert’s quarters.
A bustle and stir, very unusual at this late hour, pervaded the passages and stairs, and it was some time before I could find one of the staff to announce my arrival, which at last was done somewhat unceremoniously, as an officer hurried me through a large chamber crowded with the staff into an inner room, where, on a small field-bed, lay General Humbert, without coat or boots, a much-worn scarlet cloak thrown half over him, and a black handkerchief tied round his head. I had scarcely seen him since our landing, and I could with difficulty recognise the burly, high-complexioned soldier of a few days back, in the worn and haggard features of the sick man before me. An attack of ague, which he had originally contracted in Holland, had relapsed upon him, and he was now suffering all the lassitude and sickness of that most depressing of all maladies.
Maps, books, plans, and sketches of various kinds scattered the bed, the table, and even the floor around him; but his attitude as I entered betrayed the exhaustion of one who could labour no longer, and whose worn-out faculties demanded rest. He lay flat on his back, his arms straight down beside him, and with half-closed eyes, seemed as though falling off to sleep.
His first aide-de-camp, Merochamp, was standing with his back to a small turf fire, and made a sign to us to be still, and make no noise as we came in.
‘He ‘s sleeping,’ said he; ‘it ‘s the first time he has closed his eyes for ten days.’
We stood for a moment uncertain, and were about to retrace our steps, when Humbert said, in a low, weak voice--
The officer who presented me now retired, and I advanced towards the bedside.
‘This is Tiernay, general,’ said Merochamp, stooping down and speaking low; ‘you wished to see him.’
‘Yes, I wanted him. Ha! Tiernay, you see me a good deal altered since we parted last; however, I shall be all right in a day or two, it’s a mere attack of ague, and will leave when the good weather comes. I wished to ask you about your family, Tiernay; was not your father Irish?’