“‘Because I wanted to spike the guns, your Majesty.’ “‘You did not think, then, that it was your duty as one of my soldiers to save your life by running with the others?’ “This question puzzled me, for I certainly never had thought of the matter in that way at all. It occurred to me that perhaps I really had not done my duty. But what the Emperor said, for all that he was the Emperor, did not seem reasonable, and I made bold to answer him: ‘If I had taken care of my own life, your Majesty, a great many of your soldiers would have died to pay for it. It would have been a bad day’s work if those two guns had not been spiked, for the Russians certainly would have turned them on our lines.’ “The Emperor turned to my colonel. ‘There is something in what Private Labonne says, eh, colonel? I suppose there really would have been the very devil to pay had the enemy turned those guns?’ “‘I suppose there would,’ said my colonel, a little grimly. “‘Then the case is not quite so black against Private Labonne as it at first appeared?’ “‘Not quite so black,’ said my colonel. “‘Perhaps we need not have him shot, after all?’ “‘Perhaps not--not this time, at least.’ “‘We might even compliment him a little upon his bravery. For it was rather brave--eh, colonel?--to stay in that battery and spike those guns, while a hundred Russians were tumbling in upon him, and his own comrades had run off and left him to do his duty and to die for it there alone.’ “My colonel’s voice broke a little as he answered, ‘It was very brave, your Majesty.’ “‘Eh, well, Private Labonne,’ said the Emperor, turning again to me, ‘we won’t shoot you. Your colonel is right about your bravery; and to shoot a brave man, except in battle, is a mistake. The Russian officer who came so near to killing you was a major, I am told; well, you may happen to meet him again, and if you do it is only fair that your rank should equal his. Here is your commission, Major Labonne; and here is a little thing ‘--it was his own cross of the Legion that the Emperor gave me--‘that I want you to wear in remembrance of that day when you did as brave a piece of work as ever was done by a French soldier for the honor of France!’ “And so you see, Monsieur, it was only a comedy about my being shot, after all. Here is Avignon. You must wait for me a moment, little one, while I get the basket of jelly for Marie.” End of Project Gutenberg’s For The Honor Of France, by Thomas A. Janvier