The Adventures of Gerard
Arthur Conan Doyle
Part 1 out of 4
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THE ADVENTURES OF GERARD
A. CONAN DOYLE
"Il etait brave mais avec cette graine de foilie dans sa
bravoure que les Francais aiment."
I hope that some readers may possibly be interested in these
little tales of the Napoleonic soldiers to the extent of
following them up to the springs from which they flow. The age
was rich in military material, some of it the most human and the
most picturesque that I have ever read. Setting aside historical
works or the biographies of the leaders there is a mass of
evidence written by the actual fighting men themselves, which
describes their feelings and their experiences, stated always
from the point of view of the particular branch of the service to
which they belonged. The Cavalry were particularly happy in
their writers of memoirs. Thus De Rocca in his "Memoires sur la
guerre des Francais en Espagne" has given the narrative of a
Hussar, while De Naylies in his "Memoires sur la guerre
d'Espagne" gives the same campaigns from the point of view of the
Dragoon. Then we have the "Souvenirs Militaires du Colonel de
Gonneville," which treats a series of wars, including that of
Spain, as seen from under the steel-brimmed hair-crested helmet
of a Cuirassier. Pre-eminent among all these works, and among
all military memoirs, are the famous reminiscences of Marbot,
which can be obtained in an English form. Marbot was a Chasseur,
so again we obtain the Cavalry point of view. Among other books
which help one to an understanding of the Napoleonic soldier I
would specially recommend "Les Cahiers du Capitaine Coignet,"
which treat the wars from the point of view of the private of the
Guards, and "Les Memoires du Sergeant Bourgoyne," who was a
non-commissioned officer in the same corps. The Journal of
Sergeant Fricasse and the Recollections of de Fezenac and of de
Segur complete the materials from which I have worked in my
endeavour to give a true historical and military atmosphere to an
ARTHUR CONAN DOYLE.
I. HOW BRIGADIER GERARD LOST HIS EAR
II. HOW THE. BRIGADIER CAPTURED SARAGOSSA
III. HOW THE BRIGADIER SLEW THE FOX
IV. HOW THE BRIGADIER SAVED THE ARMY
V. HOW THE BRIGADIER TRIUMPHED IN ENGLAND
VI. HOW THE BRIGADIER RODE TO MINSK
VII. HOW THE BRIGADE BORE HIMSELF AT WATERLOO
VIII. THE LAST ADVENTURE OF THE BRIGADIER
I. How Brigadier Gerard Lost His Ear
It was the old Brigadier who was talking in the cafe.
I have seen a great many cities, my friends. I would not dare to
tell you how many I have entered as a conqueror with eight
hundred of my little fighting devils clanking and jingling behind
me. The cavalry were in front of the Grande Armee, and the
Hussars of Conflans were in front of the cavalry, and I was in
front of the Hussars. But of all the cities which we visited
Venice is the most ill-built and ridiculous. I cannot imagine
how the people who laid it out thought that the cavalry could
manoeuvre. It would puzzle Murat or Lassalle to bring a squadron
into that square of theirs. For this reason we left Kellermann's
heavy brigade and also my own Hussars at Padua on the mainland.
But Suchet with the infantry held the town, and he had chosen me
as his aide- de-camp for that winter, because he was pleased
about the affair of the Italian fencing-master at Milan. The
fellow was a good swordsman, and it was fortunate for the credit
of French arms that it was I who was opposed to him. Besides, he
deserved a lesson, for if one does not like a prima donna's
singing one can always be silent, but it is intolerable that a
public affront should be put upon a pretty woman. So the
sympathy was all with me, and after the affair had blown over and
the man's widow had been pensioned Suchet chose me as his own
galloper, and I followed him to Venice, where I had the strange
adventure which I am about to tell you.
You have not been to Venice? No, for it is seldom that the
French travel. We were great travellers in those days. From
Moscow to Cairo we had travelled everywhere, but we went in
larger parties than were convenient to those whom we visited, and
we carried our passports in our limbers. It will be a bad day
for Europe when the French start travelling again, for they are
slow to leave their homes, but when they have done so no one can
say how far they will go if they have a guide like our little man
to point out the way. But the great days are gone and the great
men are dead, and here am I, the last of them, drinking wine of
Suresnes and telling old tales in a cafe.
But it is of Venice that I would speak. The folk there live like
water-rats upon a mud-bank, but the houses are very fine, and the
churches, especially that of St. Mark, are as great as any I have
seen. But above all they are proud of their statues and their
pictures, which are the most famous in Europe. There are many
soldiers who think that because one's trade is to make war one
should never have a thought above fighting and plunder. There
was old Bouvet, for example--the one who was killed by the
Prussians on the day that I won the Emperor's medal; if you took
him away from the camp and the canteen, and spoke to him of books
or of art, he would sit and stare at you. But the highest
soldier is a man like myself who can understand the things of the
mind and the soul. It is true that I was very young when I
joined the army, and that the quarter- master was my only
teacher, but if you go about the world with your eyes open you
cannot help learning a great deal.
Thus I was able to admire the pictures in Venice, and to know the
names of the great men, Michael Titiens, and Angelus, and the
others, who had painted them. No one can say that Napoleon did
not admire them also, for the very first thing which he did when
he captured the town was to send the best of them to Paris. We
all took what we could get, and I had two pictures for my share.
One of them, called "Nymphs Surprised," I kept for myself, and
the other, "Saint Barbara," I sent as a present for my mother.
It must be confessed, however, that some of our men behaved very
badly in this matter of the statues and the pictures. The people
at Venice were very much attached to them, and as to the four
bronze horses which stood over the gate of their great church,
they loved them as dearly as if they had been their children. I
have always been a judge of a horse, and I had a good look at
these ones, but I could not see that there was much to be said
for them. They were too coarse-limbed for light cavalry charges
and they had not the weight for the gun-teams.
However, they were the only four horses, alive or dead, in the
whole town, so it was not to be expected that the people would
know any better. They wept bitterly when they were sent away,
and ten French soldiers were found floating in the canals that
night. As a punishment for these murders a great many more of
their pictures were sent away, and the soldiers took to breaking
the statues and firing their muskets at the stained-glass
This made the people furious, and there was very bad feeling in
the town. Many officers and men disappeared during that winter,
and even their bodies were never found.
For myself I had plenty to do, and I never found the time heavy
on my hands. In every country it has been my custom to try to
learn the language. For this reason I always look round for some
lady who will be kind enough to teach it to me, and then we
practise it together. This is the most interesting way of
picking it up, and before I was thirty I could speak nearly every
tongue in Europe; but it must be confessed that what you learn is
not of much use for the ordinary purposes of life. My business,
for example, has usually been with soldiers and peasants, and
what advantage is it to be able to say to them that I love only
them, and that I will come back when the wars are over?
Never have I had so sweet a teacher as in Venice. Lucia was her
first name, and her second--but a gentleman forgets second names.
I can say this with all discretion, that she was of one of the
senatorial families of Venice and that her grandfather had been
Doge of the town.
She was of an exquisite beauty--and when I, Etienne Gerard, use
such a word as "exquisite," my friends, it has a meaning. I have
judgment, I have memories, I have the means of comparison. Of
all the women who have loved me there are not twenty to whom I
could apply such a term as that. But I say again that Lucia was
Of the dark type I do not recall her equal unless it were Dolores
of Toledo. There was a little brunette whom I loved at Santarem
when I was soldiering under Massena in Portugal--her name has
escaped me. She was of a perfect beauty, but she had not the
figure nor the grace of Lucia. There was Agnes also. I could
not put one before the other, but I do none an injustice when I
say that Lucia was the equal of the best.
It was over this matter of pictures that I had first met her, for
her father owned a palace on the farther side of the Rialto
Bridge upon the Grand Canal, and it was so packed with
wall-paintings that Suchet sent a party of sappers to cut some of
them out and send them to Paris.
I had gone down with them, and after I had seen Lucia in tears it
appeared to me that the plaster would crack if it were taken from
the support of the wall. I said so, and the sappers were
withdrawn. After that I was the friend of the family, and many a
flask of Chianti have I cracked with the father and many a sweet
lesson have I had from the daughter. Some of our French officers
married in Venice that winter, and I might have done the same,
for I loved her with all my heart; but Etienne Gerard has his
sword, his horse, his regiment, his mother, his Emperor, and his
career. A debonair Hussar has room in his life for love, but
none for a wife. So I thought then, my friends, but I did not
see the lonely days when I should long to clasp those vanished
hands, and turn my head away when I saw old comrades with their
tall children standing round their chairs. This love which I had
thought was a joke and a plaything--it is only now that I
understand that it is the moulder of one's life, the most solemn
and sacred of all things-- Thank you, my friend, thank you! It
is a good wine, and a second bottle cannot hurt.
And now I will tell you how my love for Lucia was the cause of
one of the most terrible of all the wonderful adventures which
have ever befallen me, and how it was that I came to lose the top
of my right ear. You have often asked me why it was missing.
To-night for the first time I will tell you.
Suchet's head-quarters at that time was the old palace of the
Doge Dandolo, which stands on the lagoon not far from the place
of San Marco. It was near the end of the winter, and I had
returned one night from the Theatre Goldini, when I found a note
from Lucia and a gondola waiting. She prayed me to come to her
at once as she was in trouble. To a Frenchman and a soldier
there was but one answer to such a note. In an instant I was in
the boat and the gondolier was pushing out into the dark lagoon.
I remember that as I took my seat in the boat I was struck by the
man's great size. He was not tall, but he was one of the
broadest men that I have ever seen in my life. But the
gondoliers of Venice are a strong breed, and powerful men are
common enough among them. The fellow took his place behind me
and began to row.
A good soldier in an enemy's country should everywhere and at all
times be on the alert. It has been one of the rules of my life,
and if I have lived to wear grey hairs it is because I have
observed it. And yet upon that night I was as careless as a
foolish young recruit who fears lest he should be thought to be
afraid. My pistols I had left behind in my hurry. My sword was
at my belt, but it is not always the most convenient of weapons.
I lay back in my seat in the gondola, lulled by the gentle swish
of the water and the steady creaking of the oar. Our way lay
through a network of narrow canals with high houses towering on
either side and a thin slit of star-spangled sky above us. Here
and there, on the bridges which spanned the canal, there was the
dim glimmer of an oil lamp, and sometimes there came a gleam from
some niche where a candle burned before the image of a saint.
But save for this it was all black, and one could only see the
water by the white fringe which curled round the long black nose
of our boat. It was a place and a time for dreaming. I thought
of my own past life, of all the great deeds in which I had been
concerned, of the horses that I had handled, and of the women
that I had loved. Then I thought also of my dear mother, and I
fancied her joy when she heard the folk in the village talking
about the fame of her son. Of the Emperor also I thought, and of
France, the dear fatherland, the sunny France, mother of
beautiful daughters and of gallant sons. My heart glowed within
me as I thought of how we had brought her colours so many hundred
leagues beyond her borders. To her greatness I would dedicate my
life. I placed my hand upon my heart as I swore it, and at that
instant the gondolier fell upon me from behind.
When I say that he fell upon me I do not mean merely that he
attacked me, but that he really did tumble upon me with all his
weight. The fellow stands behind you and above you as he rows,
so that you can neither see him nor can you in any way guard
against such an assault.
One moment I had sat with my mind filled with sublime
resolutions, the next I was flattened out upon the bottom of the
boat, the breath dashed out of my body, and this monster pinning
me down. I felt the fierce pants of his hot breath upon the back
of my neck. In an instant he had torn away my sword, had slipped
a sack over my head, and had tied a rope firmly round the outside
There I was at the bottom of the gondola as helpless as a trussed
fowl. I could not shout, I could not move; I was a mere bundle.
An instant later I heard once more the swishing of the water and
the creaking of the oar.
This fellow had done his work and had resumed his journey as
quietly and unconcernedly as if he were accustomed to clap a sack
over a colonel of Hussars every day of the week.
I cannot tell you the humiliation and also the fury which filled
my mind as I lay there like a helpless sheep being carried to the
butcher's. I, Etienne Gerard, the champion of the six brigades
of light cavalry and the first swordsman of the Grand Army, to be
overpowered by a single unarmed man in such a fashion! Yet I lay
quiet, for there is a time to resist and there is a time to save
one's strength. I had felt the fellow's grip upon my arms, and I
knew that I would be a child in his hands. I waited quietly,
therefore, with a heart which burned with rage, until my
opportunity should come.
How long I lay there at the bottom of the boat I can not tell;
but it seemed to me to be a long time, and always there were the
hiss of the waters and the steady creaking of the oar. Several
times we turned corners, for I heard the long, sad cry which
these gondoliers give when they wish to warn their fellows that
they are coming. At last, after a considerable journey, I felt
the side of the boat scrape up against a landing-place. The
fellow knocked three times with his oar upon wood, and in answer
to his summons I heard the rasping of bars and the turning of
keys. A great door creaked back upon its hinges.
"Have you got him?" asked a voice, in Italian.
My monster gave a laugh and kicked the sack in which I lay.
"Here he is," said he.
"They are waiting." He added something which I could not
"Take him, then," said my captor. He raised me in his arms,
ascended some steps, and I was thrown down upon a hard floor. A
moment later the bars creaked and the key whined once more. I
was a prisoner inside a house.
From the voices and the steps there seemed now to be several
people round me. I understand Italian a great deal better than I
speak it, and I could make out very well what they were saying.
"You have not killed him, Matteo?"
"What matter if I have?"
"My faith, you will have to answer for it to the tribunal."
"They will kill him, will they not?"
"Yes, but it is not for you or me to take it out of their hands."
"Tut! I have not killed him. Dead men do not bite, and his
cursed teeth met in my thumb as I pulled the sack over his head."
"He lies very quiet."
"Tumble him out and you will find that he is lively enough."
The cord which bound me was undone and the sack drawn from over
my head. With my eyes closed I lay motionless upon the floor.
"By the saints, Matteo, I tell you that you have broken his
"Not I. He has only fainted. The better for him if he never
came out of it again."
I felt a hand within my tunic.
"Matteo is right," said a voice. "His heart beats like a hammer.
Let him lie and he will soon find his senses."
I waited for a minute or so and then I ventured to take a
stealthy peep from between my lashes. At first I could see
nothing, for I had been so long in darkness and it was but a dim
light in which I found myself. Soon, however, I made out that a
high and vaulted ceiling covered with painted gods and goddesses
was arching over my head. This was no mean den of cut-throats
into which I had been carried, but it must be the hall of some
Venetian palace. Then, without movement, very slowly and
stealthily I had a peep at the men who surrounded me. There was
the gondolier, a swart, hard-faced, murderous ruffian, and beside
him were three other men, one of them a little, twisted fellow
with an air of authority and several keys in his hand, the other
two tall young servants in a smart livery. As I listened to
their talk I saw that the small man was the steward of the house,
and that the others were under his orders.
There were four of them, then, but the little steward might be
left out of the reckoning. Had I a weapon I should have smiled
at such odds as those. But, hand to hand, I was no match for the
one even without three others to aid him. Cunning, then, not
force, must be my aid. I wished to look round for some mode of
escape, and in doing so I gave an almost imperceptible movement
of my head. Slight as it was it did not escape my guardians.
"Come, wake up, wake up!" cried the steward.
"Get on your feet, little Frenchman," growled the gondolier.
"Get up, I say," and for the second time he spurned me with his
Never in the world was a command obeyed so promptly as that one.
In an instant I had bounded to my feet and rushed as hard as I
could to the back of the hall. They were after me as I have seen
the English hounds follow a fox, but there was a long passage
down which I tore.
It turned to the left and again to the left, and then I found
myself back in the hall once more. They were almost within touch
of me and there was no time for thought. I turned toward the
staircase, but two men were coming down it. I dodged back and
tried the door through which I had been brought, but it was
fastened with great bars and I could not loosen them. The
gondolier was on me with his knife, but I met him with a kick on
the body which stretched him on his back. His dagger flew with a
clatter across the marble floor. I had no time to seize it, for
there were half a dozen of them now clutching at me. As I rushed
through them the little steward thrust his leg before me and I
fell with a crash, but I was up in an instant, and breaking from
their grasp I burst through the very middle of them and made for
a door at the other end of the hall. I reached it well in front
of them, and I gave a shout of triumph as the handle turned
freely in my hand, for I could see that it led to the outside and
that all was clear for my escape. But I had forgotten this
strange city in which I was. Every house is an island. As I
flung open the door, ready to bound out into the street, the
light of the hall shone upon the deep, still, black water which
lay flush with the topmost step.
I shrank back, and in an instant my pursuers were on me.
But I am not taken so easily. Again I kicked and fought my way
through them, though one of them tore a handful of hair from my
head in his effort to hold me. The little steward struck me with
a key and I was battered and bruised, but once more I cleared a
way in front of me.
Up the grand staircase I rushed, burst open the pair of huge
folding doors which faced me, and learned at last that my efforts
were in vain.
The room into which I had broken was brilliantly lighted. With
its gold cornices, its massive pillars, and its painted walls and
ceilings it was evidently the grand hall of some famous Venetian
palace. There are many hundred such in this strange city, any
one of which has rooms which would grace the Louvre or
Versailles. In the centre of this great hall there was a raised
dais, and upon it in a half circle there sat twelve men all clad
in black gowns, like those of a Franciscan monk, and each with a
mask over the upper part of his face.
A group of armed men--rough-looking rascals--were standing round
the door, and amid them facing the dais was a young fellow in the
uniform of the light infantry. As he turned his head I
recognised him. It was Captain Auret, of the 7th, a young Basque
with whom I had drunk many a glass during the winter.
He was deadly white, poor wretch, but he held himself manfully
amid the assassins who surrounded him. Never shall I forget the
sudden flash of hope which shone in his dark eyes when he saw a
comrade burst into the room, or the look of despair which
followed as he understood that I had come not to change his fate
but to share it.
You can think how amazed these people were when I hurled myself
into their presence. My pursuers had crowded in behind me and
choked the doorway, so that all further flight was out of the
question. It is at such instants that my nature asserts itself.
With dignity I advanced toward the tribunal. My jacket was torn,
my hair was dishevelled, my head was bleeding, but there was that
in my eyes and in my carriage which made them realise that no
common man was before them. Not a hand was raised to arrest me
until I halted in front of a formidable old man, whose long grey
beard and masterful manner told me that both by years and by
character he was the man in authority.
"Sir," said I, "you will, perhaps, tell me why I have been
forcibly arrested and brought to this place. I am an honourable
soldier, as is this other gentleman here, and I demand that you
will instantly set us both at liberty."
There was an appalling silence to my appeal. It was not pleasant
to have twelve masked faces turned upon you and to see twelve
pairs of vindictive Italian eyes fixed with fierce intentness
upon your face. But I stood as a debonair soldier should, and I
could not but reflect how much credit I was bringing upon the
Hussars of Conflans by the dignity of my bearing. I do not think
that anyone could have carried himself better under such
difficult circumstances. I looked with a fearless face from one
assassin to another, and I waited for some reply.
It was the grey-beard who at last broke the silence.
"Who is this man?" he asked.
"His name is Gerard," said the little steward at the door.
"Colonel Gerard," said I. "I will not deceive you. I am Etienne
Gerard, THE Colonel Gerard, five times mentioned in despatches
and recommended for the sword of honour. I am aide-de-camp to
General Suchet, and I demand my instant release, together with
that of my comrade in arms."
The same terrible silence fell upon the assembly, and the same
twelve pairs of merciless eyes were bent upon my face. Again it
was the grey-beard who spoke.
"He is out of his order. There are two names upon our list
"He escaped from our hands and burst into the room."
"Let him await his turn. Take him down to the wooden cell."
"If he resist us, your Excellency?"
"Bury your knives in his body. The tribunal will uphold you.
Remove him until we have dealt with the others."
They advanced upon me, and for an instant I thought of
resistance. It would have been a heroic death, but who was there
to see it or to chronicle it? I might be only postponing my
fate, and yet I had been in so many bad places and come out
unhurt that I had learned always to hope and to trust my star. I
allowed these rascals to seize me, and I was led from the room,
the gondolier walking at my side with a long naked knife in his
hand. I could see in his brutal eyes the satisfaction which it
would give him if he could find some excuse for plunging it into
They are wonderful places, these great Venetian houses, palaces,
and fortresses, and prisons all in one. I was led along a
passage and down a bare stone stair until we came to a short
corridor from which three doors opened. Through one of these I
was thrust and the spring lock closed behind me. The only light
came dimly through a small grating which opened on the passage.
Peering and feeling, I carefully examined the chamber in which I
had been placed. I understood from what I had heard that I
should soon have to leave it again in order to appear before this
tribunal, but still it is not my nature to throw away any
The stone floor of the cell was so damp and the walls for some
feet high were so slimy and foul that it was evident they were
beneath the level of the water. A single slanting hole high up
near the ceiling was the only aperture for light or air. Through
it I saw one bright star shining down upon me, and the sight
filled me with comfort and with hope. I have never been a man of
religion, though I have always had a respect for those who were,
but I remember that night that the star shining down the shaft
seemed to be an all-seeing eye which was upon me, and I felt as a
young and frightened recruit might feel in battle when he saw the
calm gaze of his colonel turned upon him.
Three of the sides of my prison were formed of stone, but the
fourth was of wood, and I could see that it had only recently
been erected. Evidently a partition had been thrown up to divide
a single large cell into two smaller ones. There was no hope for
me in the old walls, in the tiny window, or in the massive door.
It was only in this one direction of the wooden screen that there
was any possibility of exploring. My reason told me that if I
should pierce it--which did not seem very difficult--it would
only be to find myself in another cell as strong as that in which
I then was. Yet I had always rather be doing something than
doing nothing, so I bent all my attention and all my energies
upon the wooden wall. Two planks were badly joined, and so loose
that I was certain I could easily detach them. I searched about
for some tool, and I found one in the leg of a small bed which
stood in the corner. I forced the end of this into the chink of
the planks, and I was about to twist them outward when the sound
of rapid footsteps caused me to pause and to listen.
I wish I could forget what I heard. Many a hundred men have I
seen die in battle, and I have slain more myself than I care to
think of, but all that was fair fight and the duty of a soldier.
It was a very different matter to listen to a murder in this den
of assassins. They were pushing someone along the passage,
someone who resisted and who clung to my door as he passed. They
must have taken him into the third cell, the one which was
farthest from me. "Help! Help!" cried a voice, and then I heard
a blow and a scream. "Help! Help!" cried the voice again, and
then "Gerard! Colonel Gerard!" It was my poor captain of
infantry whom they were slaughtering.
"Murderers! Murderers!" I yelled, and I kicked at my door, but
again I heard him shout and then everything was silent. A minute
later there was a heavy splash, and I knew that no human eye
would ever see Auret again. He had gone as a hundred others had
gone whose names were missing from the roll-calls of their
regiments during that winter in Venice.
The steps returned along the passage, and I thought that they
were coming for me. Instead of that they opened the door of the
cell next to mine and they took someone out of it. I heard the
steps die away up the stair.
At once I renewed my work upon the planks, and within a very few
minutes I had loosened them in such a way that I could remove and
replace them at pleasure. Passing through the aperture I found
myself in the farther cell, which, as I expected, was the other
half of the one in which I had been confined. I was not any
nearer to escape than I had been before, for there was no other
wooden wall which I could penetrate and the spring lock of the
door had been closed. There were no traces to show who was my
companion in misfortune. Closing the two loose planks behind me
I returned to my own cell and waited there with all the courage
which I could command for the summons which would probably be my
It was a long time in coming, but at last I heard the sound of
feet once more in the passage, and I nerved myself to listen to
some other odious deed and to hear the cries of the poor victim.
Nothing of the kind occurred, however, and the prisoner was
placed in the cell without violence. I had no time to peep
through my hole of communication, for next moment my own door was
flung open and my rascally gondolier, with the other assassins,
came into the cell.
"Come, Frenchman," said he. He held his blood- stained knife in
his great, hairy hand, and I read in his fierce eyes that he only
looked for some excuse in order to plunge it into my heart.
Resistance was useless. I followed without a word. I was led up
the stone stair and back into that gorgeous chamber in which I
had left the secret tribunal. I was ushered in, but to my
surprise it was not on me that their attention was fixed. One of
their own number, a tall, dark young man, was standing before
them and was pleading with them in low, earnest tones. His voice
quivered with anxiety and his hands darted in and out or writhed
together in an agony of entreaty. "You cannot do it! You cannot
do it!" he cried.
"I implore the tribunal to reconsider this decision."
"Stand aside, brother," said the old man who presided.
"The case is decided and another is up for judgment."
"For Heaven's sake be merciful!" cried the young man.
"We have already been merciful," the other answered.
"Death would have been a small penalty for such an offence. Be
silent and let judgment take its course."
I saw the young man throw himself in an agony of grief into his
chair. I had no time, however, to speculate as to what it was
which was troubling him, for his eleven colleagues had already
fixed their stern eyes upon me.
The moment of fate had arrived.
"You are Colonel Gerard?" said the terrible old man.
"Aide-de-camp to the robber who calls himself General Suchet, who
in turn represents that arch-robber Buonaparte?"
It was on my lips to tell him that he was a liar, but there is a
time to argue and a time to be silent.
"I am an honourable soldier," said I. "I have obeyed my orders
and done my duty."
The blood flushed into the old man's face and his eyes blazed
through his mask.
"You are thieves and murderers, every man of you," he cried.
"What are you doing here? You are Frenchmen.
Why are you not in France? Did we invite you to Venice? By what
right are you here? Where are our pictures? Where are the
horses of St. Mark? Who are you that you should pilfer those
treasures which our fathers through so many centuries have
collected? We were a great city when France was a desert. Your
drunken, brawling, ignorant soldiers have undone the work of
saints and heroes. What have you to say to it?"
He was, indeed, a formidable old man, for his white beard
bristled with fury and he barked out the little sentences like a
savage hound. For my part I could have told him that his
pictures would be safe in Paris, that his horses were really not
worth making a fuss about, and that he could see heroes--I say
nothing of saints--without going back to his ancestors or even
moving out of his chair. All this I could have pointed out, but
one might as well argue with a Mameluke about religion. I
shrugged my shoulders and said nothing.
"The prisoner has no defence," said one of my masked judges.
"Has any one any observation to make before judgment is passed?"
The old man glared round him at the others.
"There is one matter, your Excellency," said another.
"It can scarce be referred to without reopening a brother's
wounds, but I would remind you that there is a very particular
reason why an exemplary punishment should be inflicted in the
case of this officer."
"I had not forgotten it," the old man answered.
"Brother, if the tribunal has injured you in one direction, it
will give you ample satisfaction in another."
The young man who had been pleading when I entered the room
staggered to his feet.
"I cannot endure it," he cried. "Your Excellency must forgive
me. The tribunal can act without me. I am ill.
I am mad." He flung his hands out with a furious gesture and
rushed from the room.
"Let him go! Let him go!" said the president. "It is, indeed,
more than can be asked of flesh and blood that he should remain
under this roof. But he is a true Venetian, and when the first
agony is over he will understand that it could not be otherwise."
I had been forgotten during this episode, and though I am not a
man who is accustomed to being overlooked I should have been all
the happier had they continued to neglect me. But now the old
president glared at me again like a tiger who comes back to his
"You shall pay for it all, and it is but justice that you
should," he said. "You, an upstart adventurer and foreigner,
have dared to raise your eyes in love to the grand daughter of a
Doge of Venice who was already betrothed to the heir of the
Loredans. He who enjoys such privileges must pay a price for
"It cannot be higher than they are worth," said I.
"You will tell us that when you have made a part payment," said
he. "Perhaps your spirit may not be so proud by that time.
Matteo, you will lead this prisoner to the wooden cell. To-night
is Monday. Let him have no food or water, and let him be led
before the tribunal again on Wednesday night. We shall then
decide upon the death which he is to die."
It was not a pleasant prospect, and yet it was a reprieve. One
is thankful for small mercies when a hairy savage with a
blood-stained knife is standing at one's elbow. He dragged me
from the room and I was thrust down the stairs and back into my
cell. The door was locked and I was left to my reflections.
My first thought was to establish connection with my neighbour in
misfortune. I waited until the steps had died away, and then I
cautiously drew aside the two boards and peeped through. The
light was very dim, so dim that I could only just discern a
figure huddled in the corner, and I could hear the low whisper of
a voice which prayed as one prays who is in deadly fear. The
boards must have made a creaking. There was a sharp exclamation
"Courage, friend, courage!" I cried. "All is not lost.
Keep a stout heart, for Etienne Gerard is by your side."
"Etienne!" It was a woman's voice which spoke--a voice which was
always music to my ears. I sprang through the gap and I flung my
arms round her.
"Lucia! Lucia!" I cried.
It was "Etienne!" and "Lucia!" for some minutes, for one does not
make speeches at moments like that. It was she who came to her
"Oh, Etienne, they will kill you. How came you into their
"In answer to your letter."
"I wrote no letter."
"The cunning demons! But you?"
"I came also in answer to your letter."
"Lucia, I wrote no letter."
"They have trapped us both with the same bait."
"I care nothing about myself, Lucia. Besides, there is no
pressing danger with me. They have simply returned me to my
"Oh, Etienne, Etienne, they will kill you. Lorenzo is there."
"The old greybeard?"
"No, no, a young dark man. He loved me, and I thought I loved
him until--until I learned what love is, Etienne. He will never
forgive you. He has a heart of stone."
"Let them do what they like. They cannot rob me of the past,
Lucia. But you--what about you?"
"It will be nothing, Etienne. Only a pang for an instant and
then all over. They mean it as a badge of infamy, dear, but I
will carry it like a crown of honour since it was through you
that I gained it."
Her words froze my blood with horror. All my adventures were
insignificant compared to this terrible shadow which was creeping
over my soul.
"Lucia! Lucia!" I cried. "For pity's sake tell me what these
butchers are about to do. Tell me, Lucia!
"I will not tell you, Etienne, for it would hurt you far more
than it would me. Well, well, I will tell you lest you should
fear it was something worse. The president has ordered that my
ear be cut off, that I may be marked for ever as having loved a
Her ear! The dear little ear which I had kissed so often. I put
my hand to each little velvet shell to make certain that this
sacrilege had not yet been committed.
Only over my dead body should they reach them. I swore it to her
between my clenched teeth.
"You must not care, Etienne. And yet I love that you should care
all the same."
"They shall not hurt you--the fiends!"
"I have hopes, Etienne. Lorenzo is there. He was silent while I
was judged, but he may have pleaded for me after I was gone."
"He did. I heard him."
"Then he may have softened their hearts."
I knew that it was not so, but how could I bring myself to tell
her? I might as well have done so, for with the quick instinct
of woman my silence was speech to her.
"They would not listen to him! You need not fear to tell me,
dear, for you will find that I am worthy to be loved by such a
soldier. Where is Lorenzo now?"
"He left the hall."
"Then he may have left the house as well."
"I believe that he did."
"He has abandoned me to my fate. Etienne, Etienne, they are
Afar off I heard those fateful steps and the jingle of distant
keys. What were they coming for now, since there were no other
prisoners to drag to judgment? It could only be to carry out the
sentence upon my darling.
I stood between her and the door, with the strength of a lion in
my limbs. I would tear the house down before they should touch
"Go back! Go back!" she cried. "They will murder you, Etienne.
My life, at least, is safe. For the love you bear me, Etienne,
go back. It is nothing. I will make no sound. You will not
hear that it is done."
She wrestled with me, this delicate creature, and by main force
she dragged me to the opening between the cells. But a sudden
thought had crossed my mind.
"We may yet be saved," I whispered. "Do what I tell you at once
and without argument. Go into my cell.
I pushed her through the gap and helped her to replace the
planks. I had retained her cloak in my hands, and with this
wrapped round me I crept into the darkest corner of her cell.
There I lay when the door was opened and several men came in. I
had reckoned that they would bring no lantern, for they had none
with them before.
To their eyes I was only a dark blur in the corner.
"Bring a light," said one of them.
"No, no; curse it!" cried a rough voice, which I knew to be that
of the ruffian, Matteo. "It is not a job that I like, and the
more I saw it the less I should like it. I am sorry, signora,
but the order of the tribunal has to be obeyed."
My impulse was to spring to my feet and to rush through them all
and out by the open door. But how would that help Lucia?
Suppose that I got clear away, she would be in their hands until
I could come back with help, for single-handed I could not hope
to clear a way for her. All this flashed through my mind in an
instant, and I saw that the only course for me was to lie still,
take what came, and wait my chance. The fellow's coarse hand
felt about among my curls--those curls in which only a woman's
fingers had ever wandered. The next instant he gripped my ear
and a pain shot through me as if I had been touched with a hot
iron. I bit my lip to stifle a cry, and I felt the blood run
warm down my neck and back.
"There, thank Heaven, that's over," said the fellow, giving me a
friendly pat on the head. "You're a brave girl, signora, I'll
say that for you, and I only wish you'd have better taste than to
love a Frenchman. You can blame him and not me for what I have
What could I do save to lie still and grind my teeth at my own
helplessness? At the same time my pain and my rage were always
soothed by the reflection that I had suffered for the woman whom
I loved. It is the custom of men to say to ladies that they
would willingly endure any pain for their sake, but it was my
privilege to show that I had said no more than I meant. I
thought also how nobly I would seem to have acted if ever the
story came to be told, and how proud the regiment of Conflans
might well be of their colonel. These thoughts helped me to
suffer in silence while the blood still trickled over my neck and
dripped upon the stone floor. It was that sound which nearly led
to my destruction.
"She's bleeding fast," said one of the valets. "You had best
fetch a surgeon or you will find her dead in the morning."
"She lies very still and she has never opened her mouth," said
another. "The shock has killed her."
"Nonsense; a young woman does not die so easily." It was Matteo
who spoke. "Besides, I did but snip off enough to leave the
tribunal's mark upon her. Rouse up, signora, rouse up!"
He shook me by the shoulder, and my heart stood still for fear he
should feel the epaulet under the mantle.
"How is it with you now?" he asked.
I made no answer.
"Curse it, I wish I had to do with a man instead of a woman, and
the fairest woman in Venice," said the gondolier. "Here,
Nicholas, lend me your handkerchief and bring a light."
It was all over. The worst had happened. Nothing could save me.
I still crouched in the corner, but I was tense in every muscle,
like a wild cat about to spring.
If I had to die I was determined that my end should be worthy of
One of them had gone for a lamp and Matteo was stooping over me
with a handkerchief. In another instant my secret would be
discovered. But he suddenly drew himself straight and stood
motionless. At the same instant there came a confused murmuring
sound through the little window far above my head. It was the
rattle of oars and the buzz of many voices. Then there was a
crash upon the door upstairs, and a terrible voice roared:
"Open! Open in the name of the Emperor!"
The Emperor! It was like the mention of some saint which, by its
very sound, can frighten the demons.
Away they ran with cries of terror--Matteo, the valets, the
steward, all of the murderous gang. Another shout and then the
crash of a hatchet and the splintering of planks. There were the
rattle of arms and the cries of French soldiers in the hall.
Next instant feet came flying down the stair and a man burst
frantically into my cell.
"Lucia!" he cried, "Lucia!" He stood in the dim light, panting
and unable to find his words. Then he broke out again. "Have I
not shown you how I love you, Lucia? What more could I do to
prove it? I have betrayed my country, I have broken my vow, I
have ruined my friends, and I have given my life in order to save
It was young Lorenzo Loredan, the lover whom I had superseded.
My heart was heavy for him at the time, but after all it is every
man for himself in love, and if one fails in the game it is some
consolation to lose to one who can be a graceful and considerate
I was about to point this out to him, but at the first word I
uttered he gave a shout of astonishment, and, rushing out, he
seized the lamp which hung in the corridor and flashed it in my
"It is you, you villain!" he cried. "You French coxcomb. You
shall pay me for the wrong which you have done me."
But the next instant he saw the pallor of my face and the blood
which was still pouring from my head.
"What is this?" he asked. "How come you to have lost your ear?"
I shook off my weakness, and pressing my handkerchief to my wound
I rose from my couch, the debonair colonel of Hussars.
"My injury, sir, is nothing. With your permission we will not
allude to a matter so trifling and so personal."
But Lucia had burst through from her cell and was pouring out the
whole story while she clasped Lorenzo's arm.
"This noble gentleman--he has taken my place, Lorenzo! He has
borne it for me. He has suffered that I might be saved."
I could sympathise with the struggle which I could see in the
Italian's face. At last he held out his hand to me.
"Colonel Gerard," he said, "you are worthy of a great love. I
forgive you, for if you have wronged me you have made a noble
atonement. But I wonder to see you alive. I left the tribunal
before you were judged, but I understood that no mercy would be
shown to any Frenchman since the destruction of the ornaments of
"He did not destroy them," cried Lucia. "He has helped to
preserve those in our palace."
"One of them, at any rate," said I, as I stooped and kissed her
This was the way, my friends, in which I lost my ear. Lorenzo
was found stabbed to the heart in the Piazza of St. Mark within
two days of the night of my adventure. Of the tribunal and its
ruffians, Matteo and three others were shot, the rest banished
from the town.
Lucia, my lovely Lucia, retired into a convent at Murano after
the French had left the city, and there she still may be, some
gentle lady abbess who has perhaps long forgotten the days when
our hearts throbbed together, and when the whole great world
seemed so small a thing beside the love which burned in our
veins. Or perhaps it may not be so. Perhaps she has not
There may still be times when the peace of the cloister is broken
by the memory of the old soldier who loved her in those distant
days. Youth is past and passion is gone, but the soul of the
gentleman can never change, and still Etienne Gerard would bow
his grey head before her and would very gladly lose his other ear
if he might do her a service.
II. How the Brigadier Captured Saragossa
Have I ever told you, my friends, the circumstances connected
with my joining the Hussars of Conflans at the time of the siege
of Saragossa and the very remarkable exploit which I performed in
connection with the taking of that city? No? Then you have
indeed something still to learn. I will tell it to you exactly
as it occurred. Save for two or three men and a score or two of
women, you are the first who have ever heard the story.
You must know, then, that it was in the Second Hussars--called
the Hussars of Chamberan--that I had served as a lieutenant and
as a junior captain. At the time I speak of I was only
twenty-five years of age, as reckless and desperate a man as any
in that great army.
It chanced that the war had come to a halt in Germany, while it
was still raging in Spain, so the Emperor, wishing to reinforce
the Spanish army, transferred me as senior captain to the Hussars
of Conflans, which were at that time in the Fifth Army Corps
under Marshal Lannes.
It was a long journey from Berlin to the Pyrenees.
My new regiment formed part of the force which, under Marshal
Lannes, was then besieging the Spanish town of Saragossa. I
turned my horse's head in that direction, therefore, and behold
me a week or so later at the French headquarters, whence I was
directed to the camp of the Hussars of Conflans.
You have read, no doubt, of this famous siege of Saragossa, and I
will only say that no general could have had a harder task than
that with which Marshal Lannes was confronted. The immense city
was crowded with a horde of Spaniards--soldiers, peasants,
priests --all filled with the most furious hatred of the French,
and the most savage determination to perish before they would
surrender. There were eighty thousand men in the town and only
thirty thousand to besiege them. Yet we had a powerful
artillery, and our engineers were of the best. There was never
such a siege, for it is usual that when the fortifications are
taken the city falls, but here it was not until the
fortifications were taken that the real fighting began. Every
house was a fort and every street a battle-field, so that slowly,
day by day, we had to work our way inwards, blowing up the houses
with their garrisons until more than half the city had
disappeared. Yet the other half was as determined as ever and in
a better position for defence, since it consisted of enormous
convents and monasteries with walls like the Bastille, which
could not be so easily brushed out of our way. This was the
state of things at the time that I joined the army.
I will confess to you that cavalry are not of much use in a
siege, although there was a time when I would not have permitted
anyone to have made such an observation. The Hussars of Conflans
were encamped to the south of the town, and it was their duty to
throw out patrols and to make sure that no Spanish force was
advancing from that quarter. The colonel of the regiment was not
a good soldier, and the regiment was at that time very far from
being in the high condition which it afterwards attained. Even
in that one evening I saw several things which shocked me, for I
had a high standard, and it went to my heart to see an ill-
arranged camp, an ill-groomed horse, or a slovenly trooper. That
night I supped with twenty-six of my new brother-officers, and I
fear that in my zeal I showed them only too plainly that I found
things very different to what I was accustomed in the army of
There was silence in the mess after my remarks, and I felt that I
had been indiscreet when I saw the glances that were cast at me.
The colonel especially was furious, and a great major named
Olivier, who was the fire-eater of the regiment, sat opposite to
me curling his huge black moustaches, and staring at me as if he
would eat me. However, I did not resent his attitude, for I felt
that I had indeed been indiscreet, and that it would give a bad
impression if upon this my first evening I quarrelled with my
So far I admit that I was wrong, but now I come to the sequel.
Supper over, the colonel and some other officers left the room,
for it was in a farm-house that the mess was held. There
remained a dozen or so, and a goat-skin of Spanish wine having
been brought in we all made merry. Presently this Major Olivier
asked me some questions concerning the army of Germany and as to
the part which I had myself played in the campaign. Flushed with
the wine, I was drawn on from story to story. It was not
unnatural, my friends.
You will sympathise with me. Up there I had been the model for
every officer of my years in the army. I was the first
swordsman, the most dashing rider, the hero of a hundred
adventures. Here I found myself not only unknown, but even
disliked. Was it not natural that I should wish to tell these
brave comrades what sort of man it was that had come among them?
Was it not natural that I should wish to say, "Rejoice, my
friends, rejoice! It is no ordinary man who has joined you
to-night, but it is I, THE Gerard, the hero of Ratisbon, the
victor of Jena, the man who broke the square at Austerlitz"? I
could not say all this. But I could at least tell them some
incidents which would enable them to say it for themselves. I
did so. They listened unmoved. I told them more. At last,
after my tale of how I had guided the army across the Danube, one
universal shout of laughter broke from them all. I sprang to my
feet, flushed with shame and anger. They had drawn me on. They
were making game of me. They were convinced that they had to do
with a braggart and a liar. Was this my reception in the Hussars
I dashed the tears of mortification from my eyes, and they
laughed the more at the sight.
"Do you know, Captain Pelletan, whether Marshal Lannes is still
with the army?" asked the major.
"I believe that he is, sir," said the other.
"Really, I should have thought that his presence was hardly
necessary now that Captain Gerard has arrived."
Again there was a roar of laughter. I can see the ring of faces,
the mocking eyes, the open mouths-- Olivier with his great black
bristles, Pelletan thin and sneering, even the young
sub-lieutenants convulsed with merriment. Heavens, the indignity
of it! But my rage had dried my tears. I was myself again,
cold, quiet, self-contained, ice without and fire within.
"May I ask, sir," said I to the major, "at what hour the regiment
"I trust, Captain Gerard, that you do not mean to alter our
hours," said he, and again there was a burst of laughter, which
died away as I looked slowly round the circle.
"What hour is the assembly?" I asked, sharply, of Captain
Some mocking answer was on his tongue, but my glance kept it
there. "The assembly is at six," he answered.
"I thank you," said I. I then counted the company and found that
I had to do with fourteen officers, two of whom appeared to be
boys fresh from St. Cyr. I could not condescend to take any
notice of their indiscretion.
There remained the major, four captains, and seven lieutenants.
"Gentlemen," I continued, looking from one to the other of them,
"I should feel myself unworthy of this famous regiment if I did
not ask you for satisfaction for the rudeness with which you have
greeted me, and I should hold you to be unworthy of it if on any
pretext you refused to grant it."
"You will have no difficulty upon that score," said the major.
"I am prepared to waive my rank and to give you every
satisfaction in the name of the Hussars of Conflans."
"I thank you," I answered. "I feel, however, that I have some
claim upon these other gentlemen who laughed at my expense."
"Whom would you fight, then?" asked Captain Pelletan.
"All of you," I answered.
They looked in surprise from one to the other. Then they drew
off to the other end of the room, and I heard the buzz of their
whispers. They were laughing. Evidently they still thought that
they had to do with some empty braggart. Then they returned.
"Your request is unusual," said Major Olivier, "but it will be
granted. How do you propose to conduct such a duel? The terms
lie with you."
"Sabres," said I. "And I will take you in order of seniority,
beginning with you, Major Olivier, at five o'clock. I will thus
be able to devote five minutes to each before the assembly is
blown. I must, however, beg you to have the courtesy to name the
place of meeting, since I am still ignorant of the locality."
They were impressed by my cold and practical manner.
Already the smile had died away from their lips.
Olivier's face was no longer mocking, but it was dark and stern.
"There is a small open space behind the horse lines," said he.
"We have held a few affairs of honour there and it has done very
well. We shall be there, Captain Gerard, at the hour you name."
I was in the act of bowing to thank them for their acceptance
when the door of the mess-room was flung open and the colonel
hurried into the room, with an agitated face.
"Gentlemen," said he, "I have been asked to call for a volunteer
from among you for a service which involves the greatest possible
danger. I will not disguise from you that the matter is serious
in the last degree, and that Marshal Lannes has chosen a cavalry
officer because he can be better spared than an officer of
infantry or of engineers. Married men are not eligible. Of the
others, who will volunteer?"
I need not say that all the unmarried officers stepped to the
front. The colonel looked round in some embarrassment.
I could see his dilemma. It was the best man who should go, and
yet it was the best man whom he could least spare.
"Sir," said I, "may I be permitted to make a suggestion?"
He looked at me with a hard eye. He had not forgotten my
observations at supper. "Speak!" said he.
"I would point out, sir," said I, "that this mission is mine both
by right and by convenience."
"Why so, Captain Gerard?"
"By right because I am the senior captain. By convenience
because I shall not be missed in the regiments since the men have
not yet learned to know me."
The colonel's features relaxed.
"There is certainly truth in what you say, Captain Gerard," said
he. "I think that you are indeed best fitted to go upon this
mission. If you will come with me I will give you your
I wished my new comrades good-night as I left the room, and I
repeated that I should hold myself at their disposal at five
o'clock next morning. They bowed in silence, and I thought that
I could see from the expression of their faces that they had
already begun to take a more just view of my character.
I had expected that the colonel would at once inform me what it
was that I had been chosen to do, but instead of that he walked
on in silence, I following behind him.
We passed through the camp and made our way across the trenches
and over the ruined heaps of stones which marked the old wall of
the town. Within, there was a labyrinth of passages formed among
the debris of the houses which had been destroyed by the mines of
the engineers. Acres and acres were covered with splintered
walls and piles of brick which had once been a populous suburb.
Lanes had been driven through it and lanterns placed at the
corners with inscriptions to direct the wayfarer. The colonel
hurried onward until at last, after a long walk, we found our way
barred by a high grey wall which stretched right across our path.
Here behind a barricade lay our advance guard. The colonel led
me into a roofless house, and there I found two general officers,
a map stretched over a drum in front of them, they kneeling
beside it and examining it carefully by the light of a lantern.
The one with the clean-shaven face and the twisted neck was
Marshal Lannes, the other was General Razout, the head of the
"Captain Gerard has volunteered to go," said the colonel.
Marshal Lannes rose from his knees and shook me by the hand.
"You are a brave man, sir," said he. "I have a present to make
to you," he added, handing me a very tiny glass tube. "It has
been specially prepared by Dr. Fardet. At the supreme moment you
have but to put it to your lips and you will be dead in an
This was a cheerful beginning. I will confess to you, my
friends, that a cold chill passed up my back and my hair rose
upon my head.
"Excuse me, sir," said I, as I saluted, "I am aware that I have
volunteered for a service of great danger, but the exact details
have not yet been given to me."
"Colonel Perrin," said Lannes, severely, "it is unfair to allow
this brave officer to volunteer before he has learned what the
perils are to which he will be exposed."
But already I was myself once more.
"Sir," said I, "permit me to remark that the greater the danger
the greater the glory, and that I could only repent of
volunteering if I found that there were no risks to be run."
It was a noble speech, and my appearance gave force to my words.
For the moment I was a heroic figure.
As I saw Lannes's eyes fixed in admiration upon my face it
thrilled me to think how splendid was the debut which I was
making in the army of Spain. If I died that night my name would
not be forgotten. My new comrades and my old, divided in all
else, would still have a point of union in their love and
admiration of Etienne Gerard.
"General Razout, explain the situation!" said Lannes, briefly.
The engineer officer rose, his compasses in his hand.
He led me to the door and pointed to the high grey wall which
towered up amongst the debris of the shattered houses.
"That is the enemy's present line of defence," said he. "It is
the wall of the great Convent of the Madonna. If we can carry it
the city must fall, but they have run countermines all round it,
and the walls are so enormously thick that it would be an immense
labour to breach it with artillery. We happen to know, however,
that the enemy have a considerable store of powder in one of the
lower chambers. If that could be exploded the way would be clear
"How can it be reached?" I asked.
"I will explain. We have a French agent within the town named
Hubert. This brave man has been in constant communication with
us, and he had promised to explode the magazine. It was to be
done in the early morning, and for two days running we have had a
storming party of a thousand Grenadiers waiting for the breach to
be formed. But there has been no explosion, and for these two
days we have had no communication from Hubert.
The question is, what has become of him?"
"You wish me to go and see?"
"Precisely. Is he ill, or wounded, or dead? Shall we still wait
for him, or shall we attempt the attack elsewhere?
We cannot determine this until we have heard from him. This is a
map of the town, Captain Gerard.
You perceive that within this ring of convents and monasteries
are a number of streets which branch off from a central square.
If you come so far as this square you will find the cathedral at
one corner. In that corner is the street of Toledo. Hubert
lives in a small house between a cobbler's and a wine-shop, on
the right-hand side as you go from the cathedral. Do you follow
"You are to reach that house, to see him, and to find out if his
plan is still feasible or if we must abandon it."
He produced what appeared to be a roll of dirty brown flannel.
"This is the dress of a Franciscan friar," said he. "You will
find it the most useful disguise."
I shrank away from it.
"It turns me into a spy," I cried. "Surely I can go in my
"Impossible! How could you hope to pass through the streets of
the city? Remember, also, that the Spaniards take no prisoners,
and that your fate will be the same in whatever dress you are
It was true, and I had been long enough in Spain to know that
that fate was likely to be something more serious than mere
death. All the way from the frontier I had heard grim tales of
torture and mutilation. I enveloped myself in the Franciscan
"Now I am ready."
"Are you armed?"
"They will hear it clank. Take this knife, and leave your sword.
Tell Hubert that at four o'clock, before dawn, the storming party
will again be ready. There is a sergeant outside who will show
you how to get into the city. Good-night, and good luck!"
Before I had left the room, the two generals had their cocked
hats touching each other over the map. At the door an
under-officer of engineers was waiting for me.
I tied the girdle of my gown, and taking off my busby, I drew the
cowl over my head. My spurs I removed. Then in silence I
followed my guide.
It was necessary to move with caution, for the walls above were
lined by the Spanish sentries, who fired down continually at our
advance posts. Slinking along under the very shadow of the great
convent, we picked our way slowly and carefully among the piles
of ruins until we came to a large chestnut tree. Here the
"It is an easy tree to climb," said he. "A scaling ladder would
not be simpler. Go up it, and you will find that the top branch
will enable you to step upon the roof of that house. After that
it is your guardian angel who must be your guide, for I can help
you no more."
Girding up the heavy brown gown, I ascended the tree as directed.
A half moon was shining brightly, and the line of roof stood out
dark and hard against the purple, starry sky. The tree was in
the shadow of the house.
Slowly I crept from branch to branch until I was near the top. I
had but to climb along a stout limb in order to reach the wall.
But suddenly my ears caught the patter of feet, and I cowered
against the trunk and tried to blend myself with its shadow. A
man was coming toward me on the roof. I saw his dark figure
creeping along, his body crouching, his head advanced, the barrel
of his gun protruding. His whole bearing was full of caution and
suspicion. Once or twice he paused, and then came on again until
he had reached the edge of the parapet within a few yards of me.
Then he knelt down, levelled his musket, and fired.
I was so astonished at this sudden crash at my very elbow that I
nearly fell out of the tree. For an instant I could not be sure
that he had not hit me. But when I heard a deep groan from
below, and the Spaniard leaned over the parapet and laughed
aloud, I understood what had occurred. It was my poor, faithful
sergeant, who had waited to see the last of me. The Spaniard had
seen him standing under the tree and had shot him. You will
think that it was good shooting in the dark, but these people
used trabucos, or blunderbusses, which were filled up with all
sorts of stones and scraps of metal, so that they would hit you
as certainly as I have hit a pheasant on a branch. The Spaniard
stood peering down through the darkness, while an occasional
groan from below showed that the sergeant was still living. The
sentry looked round and everything was still and safe.
Perhaps he thought that he would like to finish of this accursed
Frenchman, or perhaps he had a desire to see what was in his
pockets; but whatever his motive, he laid down his gun, leaned
forward, and swung himself into the tree. The same instant I
buried my knife in his body, and he fell with a loud crashing
through the branches and came with a thud to the ground. I heard
a short struggle below and an oath or two in French.
The wounded sergeant had not waited long for his vengeance.
For some minutes I did not dare to move, for it seemed certain
that someone would be attracted by the noise.
However, all was silent save for the chimes striking midnight in
the city. I crept along the branch and lifted myself on to the
roof. The Spaniard's gun was lying there, but it was of no
service to me, since he had the powder-horn at his belt. At the
same time, if it were found, it would warn the enemy that
something had happened, so I thought it best to drop it over the
Then I looked round for the means of getting of the roof and down
into the city.
It was very evident that the simplest way by which I could get
down was that by which the sentinel had got up, and what this was
soon became evident. A voice along the roof called "Manuelo!
Manuelo!" several times, and, crouching in the shadow, I saw in
the moonlight a bearded head, which protruded from a trap- door.
Receiving no answer to his summons, the man climbed through,
followed by three other fellows, all armed to the teeth. You
will see here how important it is not to neglect small
precautions, for had I left the man's gun where I found it, a
search must have followed and I should certainly have been
discovered. As it was, the patrol saw no sign of their sentry,
and thought, no doubt, that he had moved along the line of the
They hurried on, therefore, in that direction, and I, the instant
that their backs were turned, rushed to the open trap-door and
descended the flight of steps which led from it. The house
appeared to be an empty one, for I passed through the heart of it
and out, by an open door, into the street beyond.
It was a narrow and deserted lane, but it opened into a broader
road, which was dotted with fires, round which a great number of
soldiers and peasants were sleeping.
The smell within the city was so horrible that one wondered how
people could live in it, for during the months that the siege had
lasted there had been no attempt to cleanse the streets or to
bury the dead. Many people were moving up and down from fire to
fire, and among them I observed several monks. Seeing that they
came and went unquestioned, I took heart and hurried on my way in
the direction of the great square. Once a man rose from beside
one of the fires and stopped me by seizing my sleeve. He pointed
to a woman who lay motionless on the road, and I took him to mean
that she was dying, and that he desired me to administer the last
offices of the Church. I sought refuge, however, in the very
little Latin that was left to me. "Ora pro nobis," said I, from
the depths of my cowl. "Te Deum laudamus.
Ora pro nobis." I raised my hand as I spoke and pointed forward.
The fellow released my sleeve and shrank back in silence, while
I, with a solemn gesture, hurried upon my way.
As I had imagined, this broad boulevard led out into the central
square, which was full of troops and blazing with fires. I
walked swiftly onward, disregarding one or two people who
addressed remarks to me. I passed the cathedral and followed the
street which had been described to me. Being upon the side of
the city which was farthest from our attack, there were no troops
encamped in it, and it lay in darkness, save for an occasional
glimmer in a window. It was not difficult to find the house to
which I had been directed, between the wine- shop and the
cobbler's. There was no light within and the door was shut.
Cautiously I pressed the latch, and I felt that it had yielded.
Who was within I could not tell, and yet I must take the risk. I
pushed the door open and entered.
It was pitch-dark within--the more so as I had closed the door
behind me. I felt round and came upon the edge of a table. Then
I stood still and wondered what I should do next, and how I could
gain some news of this Hubert, in whose house I found myself.
Any mistake would cost me not only my life but the failure of my
mission. Perhaps he did not live alone. Perhaps he was only a
lodger in a Spanish family, and my visit might bring ruin to him
as well as to myself. Seldom in my life have I been more
perplexed. And then, suddenly, something turned my blood cold in
my veins. It was a voice, a whispering voice, in my very ear.
"Mon Dieu!" cried the voice, in a tone of agony. "Oh, mon Dieu!
mon Dieu!" Then there was a dry sob in the darkness, and all was
still once more.
It thrilled me with horror, that terrible voice, but it thrilled
me also with hope, for it was the voice of a Frenchman.
"Who is there?" I asked.
There was a groaning, but no reply.
"Is that you, Monsieur Hubert?"
"Yes, yes," sighed the voice, so low that I could hardly hear it.
"Water, water, for Heaven's sake, water!"
I advanced in the direction of the sound, but only to come in
contact with the wall. Again I heard a groan, but this time
there could be no doubt that it was above my head. I put up my
hands, but they felt only empty air.
"Where are you?" I cried.
"Here! Here!" whispered the strange, tremulous voice.
I stretched my hand along the wall and I came upon a man's naked
foot. It was as high as my face, and yet, so far as I could
feel, it had nothing to support it. I staggered back in
amazement. Then I took a tinder- box from my pocket and struck a
light. At the first flash a man seemed to be floating in the air
in front of me, and I dropped the box in my amazement. Again
with tremulous fingers I struck the flint against the steel, and
this time I lit not only the tinder but the wax taper. I held it
up, and if my amazement was lessened my horror was increased by
that which it revealed.
The man had been nailed to the wall as a weasel is nailed to the
door of a barn. Huge spikes had been driven through his hands
and his feet. The poor wretch was in his last agony, his head
sunk upon his shoulder and his blackened tongue protruding from
his lips. He was dying as much from thirst as from his wounds,
and these inhuman wretches had placed a beaker of wine upon the
table in front of him to add a fresh pang to his tortures.
I raised it to his lips. He had still strength enough to
swallow, and the light came back a little to his dim eyes.
"Are you a Frenchman?" he whispered.
"Yes. They have sent me to learn what had befallen you."
"They discovered me. They have killed me for it.
But before I die let me tell you what I know. A little more of
that wine, please! Quick! Quick! I am very near the end. My
strength is going. Listen to me!
The powder is stored in the Mother Superior's room.
The wall is pierced, and the end of the train is in Sister
Angela's cell, next the chapel. All was ready two days ago. But
they discovered a letter and they tortured me."
"Good heavens! have you been hanging here for two days?"
"It seems like two years. Comrade, I have served France, have I
not? Then do one little service for me.
Stab me to the heart, dear friend! I implore you, I entreat you,
to put an end to my sufferings."
The man was indeed in a hopeless plight, and the kindest action
would have been that for which he begged.
And yet I could not in cold blood drive my knife into his body,
although I knew how I should have prayed for such a mercy had I
been in his place. But a sudden thought crossed my mind. In my
pocket I held that which would give an instant and a painless
death. It was my own safeguard against torture, and yet this
poor soul was in very pressing need of it, and he had deserved
well of France. I took out my phial and emptied it into the cup
of wine. I was in the act of handing it to him when I heard a
sudden clash of arms outside the door.
In an instant I put out my light and slipped behind the
window-curtains. Next moment the door was flung open and two
Spaniards strode into the room, fierce, swarthy men in the dress
of citizens, but with muskets slung over their shoulders. I
looked through the chink in the curtains in an agony of fear lest
they had come upon my traces, but it was evident that their visit
was simply in order to feast their eyes upon my unfortunate
One of them held the lantern which he carried up in front of the
dying man, and both of them burst into a shout of mocking
laughter. Then the eyes of the man with the lantern fell upon
the flagon of wine upon the table. He picked it up, held it,
with a devilish grin, to the lips of Hubert, and then, as the
poor wretch involuntarily inclined his head forward to reach it,
he snatched it back and took a long gulp himself. At the same
instant he uttered a loud cry, clutched wildly at his own throat,
and fell stone-dead upon the floor. His comrade stared at him in
horror and amazement. Then, overcome by his own superstitious
fears, he gave a yell of terror and rushed madly from the room.
I heard his feet clattering wildly on the cobble-stones until the
sound died away in the distance.
The lantern had been left burning upon the table, and by its
light I saw, as I came out from behind my curtain, that the
unfortunate Hubert's head had fallen forward upon his chest and
that he also was dead. That motion to reach the wine with his
lips had been his last. A clock ticked loudly in the house, but
otherwise all was absolutely still. On the wall hung the twisted
form of the Frenchman, on the floor lay the motionless body of
the Spaniard, all dimly lit by the horn lantern. For the first
time in my life a frantic spasm of terror came over me. I had
seen ten thousand men in every conceivable degree of mutilation
stretched upon the ground, but the sight had never affected me
like those two silent figures who were my companions in that
shadowy room. I rushed into the street as the Spaniard had done,
eager only to leave that house of gloom behind me, and I had run
as far as the cathedral before my wits came back to me.
There I stopped, panting, in the shadow, and, my hand pressed to
my side, I tried to collect my scattered senses and to plan out
what I should do. As I stood there, breathless, the great brass
bells roared twice above my head. It was two o'clock. Four was
the hour when the storming-party would be in its place. I had
still two hours in which to act.
The cathedral was brilliantly lit within, and a number of people
were passing in and out; so I entered, thinking that I was less
likely to be accosted there, and that I might have quiet to form
my plans. It was certainly a singular sight, for the place had
been turned into an hospital, a refuge, and a store-house. One
aisle was crammed with provisions, another was littered with sick
and wounded, while in the centre a great number of helpless
people had taken up their abode, and had even lit their cooking
fires upon the mosaic floors. There were many at prayer, so I
knelt in the shadow of a pillar, and I prayed with all my heart
that I might have the good luck to get out of this scrape alive,
and that I might do such a deed that night as would make my name
as famous in Spain as it had already become in Germany. I waited
until the clock struck three, and then I left the cathedral and
made my way toward the Convent of the Madonna, where the assault
was to be delivered. You will understand, you who know me so
well, that I was not the man to return tamely to the French camp
with the report that our agent was dead and that other means must
be found of entering the city. Either I should find some means
to finish his uncompleted task or there would be a vacancy for a
senior captain in the Hussars of Conflans.
I passed unquestioned down the broad boulevard, which I have
already described, until I came to the great stone convent which
formed the outwork of the defence.
It was built in a square with a garden in the centre. In this
garden some hundreds of men were assembled, all armed and ready,
for it was known, of course, within the town that this was the
point against which the French attack was likely to be made. Up
to this time our fighting all over Europe had always been done
between one army and another. It was only here in Spain that we
learned how terrible a thing it is to fight against a people.
On the one hand there is no glory, for what glory could be gained
by defeating this rabble of elderly shopkeepers, ignorant
peasants, fanatical priests, excited women, and all the other
creatures who made up the garrison? On the other hand there were
extreme discomfort and danger, for these people would give you no
rest, would observe no rules of war, and were desperately earnest
in their desire by hook or by crook to do you an injury. I began
to realise how odious was our task as I looked upon the motley
but ferocious groups who were gathered round the watch-fires in
the garden of the Convent of the Madonna. It was not for us
soldiers to think about politics, but from the beginning there
always seemed to be a curse upon this war in Spain.
However, at the moment I had no time to brood over such matters
as these. There was, as I have said, no difficulty in getting as
far as the convent garden, but to pass inside the convent
unquestioned was not so easy.
The first thing which I did was to walk round the garden, and I
was soon able to pick out one large stained-glass window which
must belong to the chapel. I had understood from Hubert that the
Mother Superior's room, in which the powder was stored, was near
to this, and that the train had been laid through a hole in the
wall from some neighbouring cell. I must, at all costs, get into
the convent. There was a guard at the door, and how could I get
in without explanations? But a sudden inspiration showed me how
the thing might be done. In the garden was a well, and beside
the well were a number of empty buckets. I filled two of these,
and approached the door. The errand of a man who carries a
bucket of water in each hand does not need to be explained. The
guard opened to let me through. I found myself in a long,
stone-flagged corridor, lit with lanterns, with the cells of the
nuns leading out from one side of it. Now at last I was on the
high road to success. I walked on without hesitation, for I knew
by my observations in the garden which way to go for the chapel.
A number of Spanish soldiers were lounging and smoking in the
corridor, several of whom addressed me as I passed. I fancy it
was for my blessing that they asked, and my "Ora pro nobis"
seemed to entirely satisfy them. Soon I had got as far as the
chapel, and it was easy enough to see that the cell next door was
used as a magazine, for the floor was all black with powder in
front of it. The door was shut, and two fierce-looking fellows
stood on guard outside it, one of them with a key stuck in his
belt. Had we been alone, it would not have been long before it
would have been in my hand, but with his comrade there it was
impossible for me to hope to take it by force. The cell next
door to the magazine on the far side from the chapel must be the
one which belonged to Sister Angela. It was half open. I took
my courage in both hands and, leaving my buckets in the corridor,
I walked unchallenged into the room.
I was prepared to find half a dozen fierce Spanish desperadoes
within, but what actually met my eyes was even more embarrassing.
The room had apparently been set aside for the use of some of the
nuns, who for some reason had refused to quit their home. Three
of them were within, one an elderly, stern-faced dame, who was
evidently the Mother Superior, the others, young ladies of
charming appearance. They were seated together at the far side
of the room, but they all rose at my entrance, and I saw with
some amazement, by their manner and expressions, that my coming
was both welcome and expected. In a moment my presence of mind
had returned, and I saw exactly how the matter lay.
Naturally, since an attack was about to be made upon the convent,
these sisters had been expecting to be directed to some place of
safety. Probably they were under vow not to quit the walls, and
they had been told to remain in this cell until they received
In any case I adapted my conduct to this supposition, since it
was clear that I must get them out of the room, and this would
give me a ready excuse to do so. I first cast a glance at the
door and observed that the key was within. I then made a gesture
to the nuns to follow me. The Mother Superior asked me some
question, but I shook my head impatiently and beckoned to her
She hesitated, but I stamped my foot and called them forth in so
imperious a manner that they came at once.
They would be safer in the chapel, and thither I led them,
placing them at the end which was farthest from the magazine. As
the three nuns took their places before the altar my heart
bounded with joy and pride within me, for I felt that the last
obstacle had been lifted from my path.
And yet how often have I not found that that is the very moment
of danger? I took a last glance at the Mother Superior, and to
my dismay I saw that her piercing dark eyes were fixed, with an
expression in which surprise was deepening into suspicion, upon
my right hand. There were two points which might well have
attracted her attention. One was that it was red with the blood
of the sentinel whom I had stabbed in the tree. That alone might
count for little, as the knife was as familiar as the breviary to
the monks of Saragossa.
But on my forefinger I wore a heavy gold ring --the gift of a
certain German baroness whose name I may not mention. It shone
brightly in the light of the altar lamp. Now, a ring upon a
friar's hand is an impossibility, since they are vowed to
I turned quickly and made for the door of the chapel, but the
mischief was done. As I glanced back I saw that the Mother
Superior was already hurrying after me. I ran through the chapel
door and along the corridor, but she called out some shrill
warning to the two guards in front. Fortunately I had the
presence of mind to call out also, and to point down the passage
as if we were both pursuing the same object. Next instant I had
dashed past them, sprang into the cell, slammed the heavy door,
and fastened it upon the inside.
With a bolt above and below and a huge lock in the centre it was
a piece of timber that would take some forcing.
Even now if they had had the wit to put a barrel of powder
against the door I should have been ruined. It was their only
chance, for I had come to the final stage of my adventure. Here
at last, after such a string of dangers as few men have ever
lived to talk of, I was at one end of the powder train, with the
Saragossa magazine at the other. They were howling like wolves
out in the passage, and muskets were crashing against the door.
I paid no heed to their clamour, but I looked eagerly around for
that train of which Hubert had spoken. Of course, it must be at
the side of the room next to the magazine. I crawled along it on
my hands and knees, looking into every crevice, but no sign could
I see. Two bullets flew through the door and flattened
themselves against the wall. The thudding and smashing grew ever
louder. I saw a grey pile in a corner, flew to it with a cry of
joy, and found that it was only dust. Then I got back to the
side of the door where no bullets could ever reach me--they were
streaming freely into the room--and I tried to forget this
fiendish howling in my ear and to think out where this train
could be. It must have been carefully laid by Hubert lest these
nuns should see it. I tried to imagine how I should myself have
arranged it had I been in his place.
My eye was attracted by a statue of St. Joseph which stood in the
corner. There was a wreath of leaves along the edge of the
pedestal, with a lamp burning amidst them. I rushed across to it
and tore the leaves aside.
Yes, yes, there was a thin black line, which disappeared through
a small hole in the wall. I tilted over the lamp and threw
myself on the ground. Next instant came a roar like thunder, the
walls wavered and tottered around me, the ceiling clattered down
from above, and over the yell of the terrified Spaniards was
heard the terrific shout of the storming column of Grenadiers.
As in a dream--a happy dream--I heard it, and then I heard no
When I came to my senses two French soldiers were propping me up,
and my head was singing like a kettle.
I staggered to my feet and looked around me. The plaster had
fallen, the furniture was scattered, and there were rents in the
bricks, but no signs of a breach. In fact, the walls of the
convent had been so solid that the explosion of the magazine had
been insufficient to throw them down. On the other hand, it had
caused such a panic among the defenders that our stormers had
been able to carry the windows and throw open the doors almost
without assistance. As I ran out into the corridor I found it
full of troops, and I met Marshal Lannes himself, who was
entering with his staff. He stopped and listened eagerly to my
"Splendid, Captain Gerard, splendid!" he cried.
"These facts will certainly be reported to the Emperor."
"I would suggest to your Excellency," said I, "that I have only
finished the work that was planned and carried out by Monsieur
Hubert, who gave his life for the cause."
"His services will not be forgotten," said the Marshal.
"Meanwhile, Captain Gerard, it is half-past four, and you must be
starving after such a night of exertion.
My staff and I will breakfast inside the city. I assure you that
you will be an honoured guest."
"I will follow your Excellency," said I. "There is a small
engagement which detains me."
He opened his eyes.
"At this hour?"
"Yes, sir," I answered. "My fellow-officers, whom I never saw
until last night, will not be content unless they catch another
glimpse of me the first thing this morning."
"Au revoir, then," said Marshal Lannes, as he passed upon his
I hurried through the shattered door of the convent.
When I reached the roofless house in which we had held the
consultation the night before, I threw of my gown and I put on
the busby and sabre which I had left there.
Then, a Hussar once more, I hurried onward to the grove which was
our rendezvous. My brain was still reeling from the concussion
of the powder, and I was exhausted by the many emotions which had
shaken me during that terrible night. It is like a dream, all
that walk in the first dim grey light of dawn, with the
smouldering camp-fires around me and the buzz of the waking army.
Bugles and drums in every direction were mustering the infantry,
for the explosion and the shouting had told their own tale. I
strode onward until, as I entered the little clump of cork oaks
behind the horse lines, I saw my twelve comrades waiting in a
group, their sabres at their sides. They looked at me curiously
as I approached. Perhaps with my powder- blackened face and my
blood-stained hands I seemed a different Gerard to the young
captain whom they had made game of the night before.
"Good morning, gentlemen," said I. "I regret exceedingly if I
have kept you waiting, but I have not been master of my own
They said nothing, but they still scanned me with curious eyes.
I can see them now, standing in a line before me, tall men and
short men, stout men and thin men: Olivier, with his warlike
moustache; the thin, eager face of Pelletan; young Oudin, flushed
by his first duel; Mortier, with the sword-cut across his
I laid aside my busby and drew my sword.
"I have one favour to ask you, gentlemen," said I.
"Marshal Lannes has invited me to breakfast and I cannot keep him
"What do you suggest?" asked Major Olivier.
"That you release me from my promise to give you five minutes
each, and that you will permit me to attack you all together." I
stood upon my guard as I spoke.
But their answer was truly beautiful and truly French. With one
impulse the twelve swords flew from their scabbards and were
raised in salute. There they stood, the twelve of them,
motionless, their heels together, each with his sword upright
before his face.
I staggered back from them. I looked from one to the other. For
an instant I could not believe my own eyes. They were paying me
homage, these, the men who had jeered me! Then I understood it
all. I saw the effect that I had made upon them and their desire
to make reparation. When a man is weak he can steel himself
against danger, but not against emotion.
"Comrades," I cried, "comrades--!" but I could say no more.
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