“'Silence!' called out the major; 'not a word! Tambour, beat the charge!' “Suddenly a man sprang up to his knees from the ground where he had been lying, and began to beat the drum with all his might. Poor fellow! his leg was smashed with a shot, but he obeyed his orders in the midst of all his suffering. “'Forward, men! forward!' cried the major, waving his cap above his head. 'Fix bayonets--charge!' And on they dashed after him. “'Halloo, comrades!' shouted the tambour; 'don't leave me behind you.' And in an instant two grenadiers stooped down and hoisted him on their shoulders, and then rushed forward through the smoke and flame. Crashing and smashing went the shot through the leading files; but on they went, leaping over the dead and dying.” “With the tambour still?” asked Pioche. “To be sure,” said Minette; “there he was. But listen:-- “Just as they reached the breach a shot above their heads came whizzing past, and a terrible bang rang out as it went. “'He is killed,' said one of the grenadiers, preparing to lower the body; 'I heard his cry.' [Illustration: BrowneDrummerBoy121] “'Not yet, Comrade,' cried the tambour; 'it is the drum-head they have carried away, that's all;' and he beat away on the wooden sides harder than ever. And thus they bore him over the glacis, and up the rampart, and never stopped till they placed him, sitting, on one of the guns on the wall.” “Hurrah! well done!” cried Pioche; while every throat around him re-echoed the cry, “Hurrah!” “What was his name, Mademoiselle?” cried several voices. “Tell us the name of the tambour!” “_Ma foi, Messieurs!_they have not given it.” “Not given his name,” growled they out. “_Ventrebleu!_ that is too bad!” “An he had been an officer of the Guard they would have told us his whole birth and parentage,” said a wrinkled, sour-looking old fellow, with one eye. “Or a lieutenant of hussars, Mademoiselle!” said Pioche, looking fixedly at the vivandière, who held the book close to her face to conceal a deep blush that covered it. “But, halloo, there! Qui vive?” The cuirassier had just caught a glimpse of me at the moment, and every eye was turned at once to where I was standing. “Ah, Lieutenant, you here! Not invalided, I hope?” “No, Pioche. My visit was intended for you; and I have had the good fortune to come in for the tale mademoiselle was reading.” Before I had concluded these few words, the wounded soldiers, or such of them as could, had risen from their seats, and stood respectfully around me; while Minette, retreating behind the great chair where Pioche lay, seemed to wish to avoid recognition. “Front rank, Mademoiselle! front rank!” said Pioche. “_Parbleu!_when one has the 'cross of the Legion' from the hands of the Emperor himself, one need not be ashamed of being seen. Besides,” added he, in a lower tone, but one I could well overhear, “thou art not dressed in thy uniform now; thou hast nothing to blush for!”