Arthur Blane; or, The Hundred CuirassiersGrant, James
History
Arthur Blane; or, The Hundred Cuirassiers
Grant, James
France -- History -- Louis XIII, 1610-1643 -- Fiction
They proved to be two of Schreckhorn's Swiss musketeers, who had just
come out of the castle to enjoy a little shooting at the French; and
kneeling behind the pile which concealed me, they proceeded
deliberately to exchange a few rounds of ball-cartridge with certain
musketeers of Picardy, who were nestling in rear of a rock, at forty
yards' distance. The Swiss fired with coolness shot after shot close
to my ear, casting about and reloading their long heavy muskets;
while the bullets of their adversaries crashed among the stones or
branches, whitened the stumps of the trees, tore up the turf, and
knocked about the dry leaves which concealed me.
Imagine my situation and my feelings while this continued; to find
myself reduced to the position of a fascine, a sand-bag, a parapet
for those devils of Swiss to fire over! In lying still I risked the
bullets of my friends; in starting up to seek safety by flight, I
risked death at the hands alike of friends and foes; and while I lay
thus, with a palpitating heart and a reeling brain, at least twelve
shots whistled harmlessly about me, and five or six knocked the
withered leaves into the air.
At last the distant firing grew fainter; the regiment de Picardy was
retiring! My heart began to beat more equally, and with less pain.
My friends the Swiss shouldered their muskets and were proceeding to
advance, when one of them, in stepping over the pile of leaves,
placed a foot on me with such force and suddenness, that a faint cry
of pain escaped me. They started back with a shout of alarm, which
brought to the spot several of their comrades; and I was immediately
pulled from my lurking-place, to find myself confronted by M.
Schreckhorn, and other officers of the garrison, who were mustering
the skirmishers.
CHAPTER LIX.
THE PAROLE.
Inquiries were first made as to whether I was wounded; then as to who
I was, my rank and name--for my attire, to say the least of it, was
rather peculiar, and my face was still begrimed with powder. A
glance showed me the situation in which I was placed.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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