I was leaning on a window which looked out upon the courtyard, when suddenly the tramp of horses attracted my attention, and I saw by the clear moonlight a group of mounted men, whose long cloaks and tall helmets announced dragoons, standing around the porch. At the same moment the door of the _salon_ opened, and an officer in undress, splashed and travel-stained, entered. Making his way rapidly through the crowd, he followed the servant, who introduced him towards the supper-room. Thither the dense mass now pressed to learn the meaning of the singular apparition; while my own curiosity, not less excited, led me towards the door. As I crossed the hall, however, my progress was interrupted by a group of persons, among whom I saw an aide-de-camp of Lord Wellington’s staff, narrating, as it were, some piece of newly-arrived intelligence. I had no time for further inquiry, when a door opened near me, and Sir George Dashwood, accompanied by several general officers, came forth, the officer I had first seen enter the ball-room along with them. Every one was by this unmasked, and eagerly looking to hear what had occurred. “Then, Dashwood, you’ll send off an orderly at once?” said an old general officer beside me. “This instant, my Lord. I’ll despatch an aide-de-camp. The troops shall be in marching order before noon. Oh, here’s the man I want! O’Malley, come here. Mount your horse and dash into town. Send for Brotherton and M’Gregor to quarters, and announce the news as quickly as possible.” “But what am I to announce, Sir George?” “That the French are in retreat,--Massena in retreat, my lad.” A tremendous cheer at this instant burst from the hundreds in the _salon_, who now heard the glorious tidings. Another cheer and another followed,--ten thousand _vivas_ rose amidst the crash of the band, as it broke into a patriotic war chant. Such a scene of enthusiasm and excitement I never witnessed. Some wept with joy. Others threw themselves into their friends’ arms. “They’re all mad, every mother’s son of them!” said Maurice Quill, as he elbowed his way through the mass; “and here’s an old vestal won’t leave my arm. She has already embraced me three times, and we’ve finished a flask of Malaga between us.” “Come, O’Malley, are you ready for the road?” My horse was by this time standing saddled at the front. I sprang at once to the saddle, and without waiting for a second order, set out for Lisbon. Ten minutes had scarce elapsed,--the very shouts of joy of the delighted city were still ringing in my ears,--when I was once again back at the villa. As I mounted the steps into the hall, a carriage drew up,--it was Sir George Dashwood’s. He came forward, his daughter leaning upon his arm. “Why, O’Malley, I thought you had gone.” “I have returned, Sir George. Colonel Brotherton is in waiting, and the staff also. I have received orders to set out for Benejos, where the 14th are stationed, and have merely delayed to say adieu.”