But a volume might be written on the art of this master story-teller, on the life-experiences from which he drew his plots, and on the glowing praises which his work has called forth for three-quarters of a century. Doubtless, however, his own work will now serve better than further pages of introduction. THE TAKING OF THE REDOUBT (_L’ENLÈVEMENT DE LA REDOUTE_) By Prosper Mérimée _Done into English by the Editor_ A friend of mine, a military man, who died of a fever some years ago in Greece, described for me one day the first engagement in which he had taken part. His recital so struck me that I wrote it from memory as soon as I had the leisure. Here it is: I joined the regiment the 4th September at evening. I found the colonel in the camp. He received me rather bruskly; but after having read the letter of recommendation from General B---- he changed his manner and spoke to me a few courteous words. I was presented by him to my captain, who had returned at that instant from a reconnoissance. This captain, with whom I had had scarcely time to become acquainted, was a tall, dark man, of hard, repellent visage. He had been a private, and had won his epaulets and his cross upon the field of battle. His voice, which was hoarse and feeble, contrasted singularly with his almost gigantic stature. They told me he owed that strange voice to a ball which had pierced him through and through at the battle of Jena. On learning that I had just left the school at Fontainebleau, he made a grimace and said: “My lieutenant died yesterday.” I understood that he meant to say, “It is you who must take his place, and you are not capable of it.” A sharp retort leaped to my lips, but I contained myself. The moon was rising behind the redoubt of Cheverino, which was situated two cannon-shots from our bivouac. She was large and red, as usual at her rising. But, on this evening, she seemed to be of extraordinary grandeur. For one instant the redoubt stood out sharply in black against the glittering disk of the moon. It resembled the cone of a volcano at the moment of eruption. An old soldier, beside whom I found myself, remarked upon the color of the moon. “She is very red,” said he; “it’s a sign that it will cost us dear to take that famous redoubt!” I have always been superstitious, and that augury, above all at that moment, affected me. I sought my couch, but I was not able to sleep. I arose, and for some time I walked, watching the immense line of fires which covered the heights above the village of Cheverino.