"These confounded surgeons will not allow me to speak in person, but I wish you, Chevalier, to thank the General for me. Did you hear about it? No? Then, listen. Just after our charge was made, and we had formed again, he rode up. 'Here is the devil to pay,' I said to myself, and was framing my defence in short order, when, 'M. Dalquier,' he said, so that all about could hear, 'the King owes you his thanks for not making that half-turn. Hold your position for five minutes, and I will answer for the battle.' Did you ever hear anything like it? Think of a general making such an acknowledgment, and before my men, too! Mort Dieu, Chevalier! Tell him I would rather have this to remember than wear the Cross of St. Louis. Go!" And he turned away his face, to hide the tears that spake of his overwhelming satisfaction. "I will see him as soon as I can find a moment," said M. de Levis, when I repeated my message, almost as moved as the old soldier. "Now, Chevalier, as soon as it falls dark, do you go over the ground alone, and as close to the town as possible, to see what dispositions we are to make for our trenches. Mark what Murray has attempted in the way of defences or outworks. Let me, or M. de Pontleroy, hear from you to-night, no matter how late the hour. But get some refreshment before you set out," he added, thoughtful as ever of the wants of others. I sate down for a few moments' rest, and ate something the good nuns provided, and then borrowing a cloak to serve as a protection against the drizzling rain which had again set in, I sallied forth. When I reached the Heights it was puzzlingly dark, though the hour was early, and I had the utmost difficulty in finding my way. Corpses of men and horses hindered me, more than once the wounded appealed to me for help, but I went on unheeding, trying to determine my exact whereabouts, in order to begin my task. I had approached near enough the town to see the lights, and could even catch sounds from the no doubt terrified population, but paid no attention to anything save my object in hand. Suddenly a voice shouted in the darkness, "Halte la!" to which I promptly replied: "Etat-major, aide de M. de Levis." "Damn your Etat-major!" was the astonishing reply. "Why don't you say 'Mistaire Maxwelle'?" in an undescribable attempt at an English pronunciation of my name. "Come, come, Sarennes," I said, for I recognised the tall Canadian, "have you not got over your ill-humour yet? You nearly insulted me to-day in the field." "I intended to. Do you wish me to repeat my words, or do you not know when you are insulted, unless you are struck?" "Are you mad, or only drunk, Sarennes? Get back to camp, man, and sleep off your fit. We cannot afford to quarrel after such a day as this." "No! you cannot afford to fight at any time. Do you think I am a woman like her whom you deceived, to be tricked by your lying tongue?"