The reader will probably not complain if, passing over the manifold adventures and hair-breadth ‘scapes of my little party, I come to our arrival at Ingoldstadt, where the headquarters of General Vandamme were stationed. It was just as the recall was beating that we rode into the town, where, although nearly eight thousand men were assembled, our somewhat singular cavalcade attracted no small share of notice. Fresh rations for ‘man and beast’ slung around our very ragged clothing, and four Austrian grenadiers tied by a cord, wrist to wrist, as prisoners behind us, we presented, it must be owned, a far more picturesque than soldierlike party.

Accepting all the attentions bestowed upon us in the most flattering sense, and affecting not to perceive the ridicule we were exciting on every hand, I rode up to the État-major and dismounted. I had obtained from ‘my prisoners’ what I deemed a very important secret, and was resolved to make the most of it by asking for an immediate audience of the general.

‘I am the officier d ordonnance,’ said a young lieutenant of dragoons, stepping forward; ‘any communications you have to make must be addressed to me.’

‘I have taken four prisoners, Monsieur le lieutenant,’ said I, ‘and would wish to inform General Vandamme on certain matters they have revealed to me.’

‘Are you in the service?’ asked he, with a glance at my incongruous equipment.

‘I have served, sir,’ was my reply.

‘In what army of brigands was it, then?’ said he, laughing, ‘for, assuredly, you do not recall to my recollection any European force that I know of.’

‘I may find leisure and inclination to give you the fullest information on this point at another moment, sir; for the present, my business is more pressing. Can I see General Vandamme?’

‘Of course you cannot, my worthy fellow! If you had served, as you say you have, you could scarcely have made so absurd a request. A French general of division does not give audience to every tatterdemalion who picks up a prisoner on the highroad.’

‘It is exactly because I have served that I do make the request,’ said I stoutly.

‘How so, pray?’ asked he, staring at me.

‘Because I know well how often young staff-officers, in their self-sufficiency, overlook the most important points, and, from the humble character of their informants, frequently despise what their superiors, had they known it, would have largely profited by. And, even if I did not know this fact, I have the memory of another one scarcely less striking, which was, that General MassÉna himself admitted me to an audience when my appearance was not a whit more imposing than at present.’

‘You knew General MassÉna, then? Where was it, may I ask?’

‘In Genoa, during the siege.’

‘And what regiment have you served in?’

‘The Ninth Hussars.’

‘Quite enough, my good fellow. The Ninth were on the Sambre while that siege was going on,’ said he, laughing sarcastically.

‘I never said that my regiment was at Genoa. I only asserted that I was,’ was my calm reply, for I was anxious to prolong the conversation, seeing that directly over our heads, on a balcony, a number of officers had just come out to smoke their cigars after dinner, amongst whom I recognised two or three in the uniform of generals.

‘And now for your name; let us have that,’ said he, seating himself, as if for a lengthy cross-examination.

I stole a quick glance overhead, and seeing that two of the officers were eagerly listening to our colloquy, said aloud—

‘I’ll tell you no more, sir. You have already heard quite enough to know what my business is. I didn’t come here to relate my life and adventures.’

‘I say, Lestocque,’ cried a large, burly man, from above, ‘have you picked up Robinson Crusoe, there?’

‘He’s far more like the man Friday, mon gÉnÉral,’ said the young lieutenant, laughing, ‘although even a savage might have more deference for his superiors.’

‘What does he want, then?’ asked the other.

‘An audience of yourself, mon gÉnÉral—nothing less.’

‘Have you told him how I am accustomed to reward people who occupy my time on false pretences, Lestocque?’ said the general, with a grin. ‘Does he know that the “Salle de Police” first, and the “PrÉvÔt” afterwards, comprise my gratitude?’

‘He presumes to say, sir, that he knows General MassÉna,’ said the lieutenant.

‘Diable! He knows me, does he say—he knows me? Who is he—what is he?’ said a voice I well remembered; and at the same instant the brown, dark visage of General MassÉna peered over the balcony.

‘He’s a countryman of yours, MassÉna,’ said Vandamme, laughing. ‘Eh, are you not a PiÉmontais?’

Up to this moment I had stood silently listening to the dialogue around me, without the slightest apparent sign of noticing it. Now, however, as I was directly addressed, I drew myself up to a soldierlike attitude, and replied—

‘No, sir. I am more a Frenchman than General Vandamme, at least.’

‘Send that fellow here; send him up, Lestocque, and have a corporal’s party ready for duty,’ cried the general, as he threw the end of his cigar into the street, and walked hastily away.

It was not the first time in my life that my tongue had brought peril on my head; but I ascended the stairs with a firm step, and if not with a light, at least with a resolute, heart, seeing how wonderfully little I had to lose, and that few men had a smaller stake in existence than myself.

The voices were loud, and in tones of anger, as I stepped out upon the terrace.

‘So we are acquaintances, it would appear, my friend?’ said MassÉna, as he stared fixedly at me.

‘If General MassÉna cannot recall the occasion of our meeting,’ said I proudly, ‘I ‘ll scarcely remind him of it.’

‘Come, come,’ said Vandamme angrily, ‘I must deal with this gaillard myself. Are you a French soldier?’

‘I was, sir—-an officer of cavalry.’

‘And were you broke? did you desert? or what was it?’ cried he impatiently.

‘I kept better company than I believe is considered safe in these days, and was accidentally admitted to the acquaintance of the Prince de CondÉ——’

‘That’s it!’ said Vandamme, with a long whistle; ‘that’s the mischief, then. You are a VendÉan?’

‘No, sir; I was never a Royalist, although, as I have said, exposed to the very society whose fascinations might have made me one.’

‘Your name is Tiernay, monsieur, or I mistake much?* said a smart-looking young man in civilian dress.

I bowed in assent, without expressing any sentiment of either fear or anxiety.

‘I can vouch for the perfect accuracy of that gentleman’s narrative,’ said Monsieur de Bourrienne, for I now saw it was himself. ‘You may possibly remember a visitor——’

‘At the Temple,’ said I, interrupting him. ‘I recollect you perfectly, sir, and thank you for this recognition.’

Monsieur de Bourrienne, however, did not pay much attention to my gratitude, but proceeded, in a few hurried words, to give some account of me to the bystanders.

‘Well, it must be owned that he looks devilish unlike an officer of hussars,’ said MassÉna, as he laughed, and made others laugh, at my strange equipment.

‘And yet you saw me in a worse plight, general,’ said I coolly.

‘How so—where was that?’ cried he.

‘It will be a sore wound to my pride, general,’ said I slowly, ‘if I must refresh your memory.’

‘You were not at Valenciennes,’ said he, musing. ‘No, no; that was before your day. Were you on the Meuse, then? No. Nor in Spain? I’ve always had hussars in my division, but I confess I do not remember all the officers.’

‘Will Genoa not give the clue, sir?’ said I, glancing at him a keen look.

‘Least of all,’ cried he. ‘The cavalry were with Soult. I had nothing beyond an escort in the town.’

‘So there’s no help for it,’ said I, with a sigh. ‘Do you remember a half-drowned wretch that was laid down at your feet in the Annunziata Church one morning during the siege?’

‘A fellow who had made his escape from the English fleet, and swam ashore? What I are you—— By Jove! so it is, the very same. Give me your hand, my brave fellow. I’ve often thought of you, and wondered what had befallen you. You joined that unlucky attack on Monte Faccio; and we had warm work ourselves on hand the day after. I say, Vandamme, the first news I had of our columns crossing the Alps were from this officer—for officer he was, and shall be again, if I live to command a French division.’

MassÉna embraced me affectionately, as he said this; and then turning to the others, said—

‘Gentlemen, you see before you the man you have often heard me speak of—a young officer of hussars, who, in the hope of rescuing a division of the French army, at that time shut up in a besieged city, performed one of the most gallant exploits on record. Within a week after he led a storming-party against a mountain fortress; and I don’t care if he lived in the intimacy of every Bourbon prince, from the Count D’Artois downwards, he’s a good Frenchman, and a brave soldier. Bourrienne, you’re starting for headquarters? Well, it is not at such a moment as this you can bear these matters in mind, but don’t forget my friend Tiernay; depend upon it, he’ll do you no discredit. The Emperor knows well both how to employ and how to reward such men as him.’

I heard these flattering speeches like one in a delicious dream. To stand in the midst of a distinguished group, while MassÉna thus spoke of me, seemed too much for reality, for praise had indeed become a rare accident to me; but from such a quarter it was less eulogy than fame. How hard was it to persuade myself that I was awake, as I found myself seated at the table, with a crowd of officers, pledging the toasts they gave, and drinking bumpers in friendly recognition with all around me.

Such was the curiosity to hear my story, that numbers of others crowded into the room, which gradually assumed the appearance of a theatre. There was scarcely an incident to which I referred, that some one or other of those present could not vouch for; and whether I alluded to my earlier adventures in the Black Forest, or the expedition of Humbert, or to the latter scenes of my life, I met corroboration from one quarter or another. Away as I was from Paris and its influences, in the midst of my comrades, I never hesitated to relate the whole of my acquaintance with FouchÉ—a part of my narrative which, I must own, amused them more than all the rest. In the midst of all these intoxicating praises, and of a degree of wonder that might have turned wiser heads, I never forgot that I was in possession of what seemed to myself at least a very important military fact—no less than the mistaken movement of an Austrian general, who had marched his division so far to the southward as to leave an interval of several miles between himself and the main body of the Imperial forces. This fact I had obtained from the grenadiers I had made prisoners, and who were stragglers from the corps I alluded to.

The movement in question was doubtless intended to menace the right flank of our army, but every soldier of Napoleon well knew that so long as he could pierce the enemy’s centre such flank attacks were ineffectual, the question being already decided before they could be undertaken.

My intelligence, important as it appeared to myself, struck the two generals as of even greater moment; and MassÉna, who had arrived only a few hours before from his own division to confer with Vandamme, resolved to take me with him at once to headquarters.

‘You are quite certain of what you assert, Tiernay?’ said he; ‘doubtful information, or a mere surmise, will not do with him before whom you will be summoned. You must be clear on every point, and brief—remember that—not a word more than is absolutely necessary.’

I repeated that I had taken the utmost precautions to assure myself of the truth of the men’s statement, and had ridden several leagues between the Austrian left and the left centre. The prisoners themselves could prove that they had marched from early morning till late in the afternoon without coming up with a single Austrian post.

The next question was to equip me with a uniform—but what should it be? I was not attached to any corps, nor had I any real rank in the army. Massena hesitated about appointing me on his own staff without authority, nor could he advise me to assume the dress of my old regiment. Time was pressing, and it was decided—I own to my great discomfiture—that I should continue to wear my Tyroler costume till my restoration to my former rank was fully established.

I was well tired, having already ridden thirteen leagues of a bad road, when I was obliged to mount once more, and accompany General Massena in his return to headquarters. A good supper, and some excellent Bordeaux, and, better than either, a light heart, gave me abundant energy; and after the first three or four miles of the way I felt as if I was equal to any fatigue.

As we rode along, the general repeated all his cautions to me in the event of my being summoned to give information at headquarters—the importance of all my replies being short, accurate, and to the purpose; and, above all, the avoidance of anything like an opinion or expression of my own judgment on passing events. I promised faithfully to observe all his counsels, and not bring discredit on his patronage.