“I desire,” said he, in a firm tone of voice, as he turned round and addressed the soldiers on either side of him,--“I desire that my son, now at the Polytechnique, should serve the Emperor better than, and as faithfully as, his father has done, if his Majesty will graciously permit him to do so, in the grenadier battalion, which I have long commanded; it will be the greatest favor I can ask of him.” A low murmur of grief, no longer repressible, ran through the little group around the litter. “The grenadiers of the Sixth,” continued he, proudly, while for an instant his pale features flushed up, “will not love him the less for the name he bears. Come, come, men! do not give way thus; what will my kind young friend here say of us, when he joins the hussar brigade? This is not their ordinary mood, believe me,” said he, addressing me. “The Russian Guard would give a very different account of them; they are stouter fellows at the _pas dé charge_ than around the litter of a wounded comrade.” While he was yet speaking, Louis returned, followed by two officers, one of whom, notwithstanding his efforts at concealment, I recognized to be Marshal Murat. “We must remove him, if it be possible,” said the surgeon, in a whisper. “And yet the slightest motion is to be dreaded.” “May I speak to him?” said Murat, in a low voice. “Yes, that you may,” replied Louis, who now pushed his way forward and approached the litter. “Ah, so soon!” said the wounded man, looking up; “a man of your word, Louis. And how is Rapp? Nothing in this fashion, I hope,” added he, pointing to his fractured limb with a sickly smile. “No, no,” replied the surgeon. “But here is Marshal Murat come to inquire after you, from the Emperor.” A flush of pride lit up St. Hilaire's features as he heard this, and he asked eagerly, “Where, where?” “We must remove you, St. Hilaire,” said Murat, endeavoring to speak calmly, when it was evident his feelings were highly excited; “Louis says you must not remain here.” “As you like, Marshal. What says his Majesty? Is the affair as decisive as he looked for?” “Far more so. The allied army is destroyed; the campaign is ended.” “Come, then, this is not so bad as I deemed it,” rejoined St. Hilaire, with a tone of almost gayety; “I can afford to be invalided if the Emperor has no further occasion for me.” While these few words were interchanging, Louis had applied a tourniquet around the wounded limb, and having given the soldiers directions how they were to step, so as not to disturb or displace the shattered bones, he took his place beside the litter, and said,-- “We are ready now, General.” They lifted the litter as he spoke, and moved slowly forward. Murat pressed the hand St. Hilaire extended to him without a word; and then, turning his head away, suffered the party to pass on. Before we reached Beygern, the wounded general had fallen into a heavy sleep, from which he did not awake as they laid him on the bed in the hospital.