Before I had finished reading the letter, my eyes grew so dimmed I could scarcely trace the letters. Each word of kindness, every token of praise, now cut me to the heart. How agonizing are the congratulations of friends on those events in life where our own conscience bears reproach against us! how poignant the self-accusation that is elicited by undeserved eulogy! How would _he_ think of my conduct? By what means should I convince _him_ that no alternative remained to me? I turned away, lest the honest soldier should witness my trouble; and as I approached the window, I beheld in the courtyard beneath the beautiful charger which, with the full trappings of a hussar saddle, stood proudly flapping his deep flanks with his long silken tail. With what a thrill I surveyed him! How my heart leaped, as I fancied myself borne along on the full tide of battle, each plunge he gave responsive to the stroke of my sword-arm! For an instant I forgot all that had happened, and gazed on his magnificent crest and splendid shape with an ecstasy of delight. “Ay,” said the dragoon, whose eyes were riveted in the same quarter, “there's not a marshal of France so well mounted; and he knows the trumpet-call like the oldest soldier of the troop.” “You will return to-morrow,” said I, recovering myself suddenly, and endeavoring to appear composed and at ease. “Well, then, to-night I shall give you an answer for the general; be here at eight o'clock.” I saw that my troubled air and broken voice had not escaped the soldier's notice, and was glad when the door closed, and I was again alone. My first care was to write to the general; nor was it till after many efforts I succeeded to my satisfaction in conveying, in a few and simple words, the reasons of that step which must imbitter my future life. I explained how deeply continued mistrust had wounded me; how my spirit, as a soldier and a gentleman, revolted at the espionage established over my actions; that it was in weighing these insults against the wreck of all my hopes, I had chosen that path which had neither fame nor rank nor honor, but still left me an untrammelled spirit and a mind at peace with itself. “I have now,” said I, “to begin the world anew, without one clew to guide me. Every illusion with which I had invested life has left me; I must choose both a career and a country, and bear with me from this nothing but the heartfelt gratitude I shall ever retain for one who befriended me through weal and woe, and whose memory I shall bless while I live.” I felt relieved and more at ease when I finished this letter; the endeavor to set my conduct in its true light to another had also its effect upon my own convictions. I knew, besides, that I had sacrificed to my determination all my worldly prospects, and believed that where self-interest warred with principle, the right course could scarcely be doubtful.