"I cannot speak of them in more gentle terms, when I remember that all the German prisoners you take from us invariably change banners, and enlist in your service. Several battalions have been raised among the Scottish military prisons of late. And these Germans—bah! But to the devil with them!" "By the by,—who was your friend, with his arm in the sling? An officer of some rank, evidently?" "Truly he is. I am glad you did not take him instead of me. Ah, monsieur, you have outwitted yourself confoundedly. What a prize he would have been to present to your general! That officer was Monsieur le Comte D’Erlon." "D’Erlon!" exclaimed Ronald; "would to Heaven he would return." "With the sabres of twenty _chasseurs à cheval_ glittering behind him?" "No, certainly. But, oh! had I only guessed his rank and fame, he should not have escaped me. I would either have taken, or cut him down in his saddle." "That would have been a pity, for he is a famous old fellow; but it would have left the comtesse a widow, with I know not how many thousand livres in the year. I know she looks with favourable eyes on me,—but, _sacre bleu!_ ’tis all in vain. I don’t like ladies that are verging towards forty years." "You seem to have recovered your equanimity of temper now." "Oh, perfectly; but my head rings like a belfry, with that cut you gave me." "So that old officer with his arm slung, was really the famous D’Erlon, of whom we have heard so much." "The gallant old count himself. He received a stroke from a spent pistol-ball a day or two past, which disabled his sword-arm; otherwise you would have had an encounter with him also." "I shall ever curse my thoughtlessness, in having permitted him to escape." The cuirassier laughed exultingly. "I am,—_diable_! I _was_ his aide-de-camp; and we had merely crossed the Tagus last night with a sub-division of chasseurs, to make a reconnoissance; and we were returning leisurely in the rear of our party, when you so unluckily fell in with us, like some wandering knight-errant." "Excuse me, monsieur; but as I perceive that your sabre-tache[*] is very full of something, if you have any of the Count d’Erlon’s despatches or papers, I must consider it my duty to request that you will entrust them to my care." [*] A leather case hanging to the waist-belt of a dragoon. It is meant for carrying military papers. "Excellent, by the bomb! That you may present them to your general?" "Undoubtedly, monsieur."