‘My father wore a soldier’s coat, and bravely, too,’ said I, with difficulty restraining the tears that rose to my eyes.
‘In what regiment, boy?’ asked the soldier who spoke before.
‘In one that exists no longer,’ said I sadly, and not wishing to allude to a service that would find but slight favour in republican ears.
‘That must be the 24th of the Line; they were cut to pieces at “Tongres.”’
‘No--no, he ‘s thinking of the 9th, that got so roughly handled at Fontenoy,’ said another.
‘Of neither,’ said I; ‘I am speaking of those who have left nothing but a name behind them--the Garde du Corps of the king.’
‘_Voilà!_ cried Madou, clapping her hands in astonishment at my impertinence; ‘there’s an aristocrat for you! Look at him, _mes braves!_ it’s not every day we have the grand seigneurs condescending to come amongst us! You can learn something of courtly manners from the polished descendant of our nobility. Say, boy, art a count, or a baron, or perhaps a duke?’
‘Make way there--out of the road, Mère Madou,’ cried a dragoon, curveting his horse in such a fashion as almost to upset ass and _cantinière_ together, ‘the staff is coming.’
The mere mention of the word sent numbers off in full speed to their quarters; and now all was haste and bustle to prepare for the coming inspection. The mère’s endeavours to drag her beast along were not very successful, for, with the peculiar instinct of his species, the more necessity there was of speed, the lazier he became; and as every one had his own concerns to look after, she was left to her own unaided efforts to drive him forward.
‘Thou’lt have a day in prison if thou’rt found here, Mère Madou,’ said a dragoon, as he struck the ass with the flat of his sabre.
‘I know it well,’ cried she passionately; ‘but I have none to help me. Come here, lad; be good-natured, and forget what passed. Take his bridle while I whip him on.’
I was at first disposed to refuse, but her pitiful face and sad plight made me think better of it, and I seized the bridle at once; but just as I had done so, the escort galloped forward, and the dragoons coming on the flank of the miserable beast, over he went, barrels and all, crushing me beneath him as he fell.
‘Is the boy hurt?’ were the last words I heard, as I fainted; but a few minutes after I found myself seated on the grass, while a soldier was stanching the blood that ran freely from a cut in my forehead.