The brow of the cliff, on which I stood, overhung the stream that brawled through the wooded defile, past the square black tower of Phalsbourg; further off, down the valley, lay the little fortified tower of that name, and beyond it were the Vosges, green, dun, or brown, but all huge and many shadowed, piled peak on peak, fading and mellowing away in the distance. On the other hand, the wooded defile opened out into a broad and sunlit valley, clothed with waving vineyards. This valley led towards Zaberne; and there I could see the discomfited infantry of king Louis, halted at the distance of a mile; but whether preparatory to renewing the attack, or to retiring, I know not. Nearer were the dragoons of Brissac, who had now fallen back to cover the rear of their foot; and nearer still were ten cavaliers in brilliant trappings, whose helmets and corslets, as they caracoled to and fro in the green meadows as if loth to retreat, flashed back the rays of the morning sun. On beholding them, a new impulse awoke within me, for I believed them to be ten gentleman of the Garde du Corps Ecossais, and eventually, my surmise proved correct. Around me, and scattered over the brow of the grim cliff which overlooked all this panorama, were the prostrate forms of some twenty or thirty soldiers, killed or wounded in the skirmish; and close by me, were the men of the sally, falling into their ranks preparatory to marching back to the tower, under the orders of M. Schreckhorn's second in command. A rapid and hopeless glance told me all this; and then I turned to meet, and if possible to baffle, the suspicious questions of the warlike Switzer, who wore a quaint old jagged suit of harness of the last century, and carried a pair of long pistols in his leathern girdle, while he wielded one of those enormous halberds, to which the countrymen of Tell have been so partial in all ages. 'Who are you, monsieur?' asked Schreckhorn, in his execrable French. 'Faith, I can scarcely tell,' said I. 'A peculiar state of mind--perhaps a prick of a sword might enlighten you? Speak!' 'I am one of your garrison of Phalsbourg,' I replied, with confidence, assured that to falter now, would destroy me. 'Does any one know this man?' asked Schreckhorn, looking around him; but not one of all the soldiers who crowded near, responded to his question. 'The Count de Bitche knows me well, and will answer for my honour and courage,' said I. 'We have only your word for that; but does it look like either honour or courage to skulk under this pile of leaves during an action? You say you are one of our soldiers?' 'But I am _not_ one of your soldiers.' 'What then?' 'A simple volunteer.' 'I do not recognise you.' 'How should you, M. Schreckhorn, when you came to Phalsbourg but yesterday or the day before?' 'Peste! that is true; but then you cannot have any objection to return with us.' 'I have a most decided objection, M. le Capitaine.' 'Parbleu!'