My first thought when morning broke was to ride over to Beygern, to learn the fate of my wounded friends. On my way thither I fell in with several officers bound on a similar errand, for already the convent had become the great hospital to which the sufferers were brought from every part of the camp. As we went along, I was much struck by the depression of spirit so remarkable everywhere. The battle over, all the martial enthusiasm seemed to have evaporated: many grumbled at the tiresome prospect of a winter in country quarters, or cantoned in the field; some regretted the briefness of the campaign; while others again complained that to return to France after so little of active service would only expose them to ridicule from their companions who had seen Italy and Egypt. “Spare your sorrows on that score, my young friends,” said a colonel, who listened patiently to the complaints around him; “we shall not see the dome of the Invalides for some time yet. Except the _compagnie d'élite_, I fancy few of us will figure on the Boulevards.” “There, again,” cried another: “I never heard anything so unfair as that _compagnie d'élite_; they have been, with two solitary exceptions, taken from the cavalry. Austerlitz was to be the day of honor for the infantry of France, said the bulletin.” “And so it was,” interrupted a little dark-eyed major; “and I suppose his Majesty thought we had enough of it on the field, and did not wish to surfeit us with glory. But I ask pardon,” said he, turning towards me; “monsieur is, if I mistake not, named one of the _élite_?” As I replied in the affirmative, I observed all eyes turned towards me; but not with any kindly expression,--far from it. I saw that there was a deliberate canvass of me, as though to see by my outward man how I could possibly deserve such a favor. “Can you explain to us, Monsieur,” said the little major to me, “on what principle the _élite_ were chosen? For we have a thousand contradictory reports in the camp: some say by ballot; some, that it was only those who never soiled their jackets in the affair of the other day, and looked fresh and smart.” A burst of laughter from the rest interrupted the major's speech, for its impertinence was quite sufficient to secure it many admirers. “I believe, sir,” said I, angrily, “I can show you some reasons against the selection of certain persons.” As I got thus far, an officer whispered something into the major's ear, who, with a roar of laughing, exclaimed,-- “A thousand pardons! ten thousand, _parbleu!_ I did n't know you. It was monsieur pinked François, the maître d'armes? Yes, yes; don't deny it,” said he, as I made no reply whatever to a question I believed quite irrelevant to the occasion,--“don't deny it. That lunge over the guard was a thing to be proud of; and, by Jove! you shall not practise it at my expense.”