I rode with my head sunk between my shoulders in Napoleon's fashion, and I did not dare to look back for fear they should see my moustache.I had turned up the collar of the grey coat so as partly to hide it.Even now if they found out their mistake they might turn and overtake the carriage.
But when once we were on the road I could tell by the drumming of their hoofs how far distant they were, and it seemed to me that the sound grew perceptibly louder, as if they were slowly gaining upon me.We were riding now up the stony and rutted lane which led from the ford.I peeped back very cautiously from under my arm and I perceived that my danger came from a single rider, who was far ahead of his comrades.
He was a Hussar, a very tiny fellow, upon a big black horse, and it was his light weight which had brought him into the foremost place.It is a place of honour; but it is also a place of danger, as he was soon to learn.I felt the holsters, but, to my horror, there were no pistols.There was a field-glass in one and the other was stuffed with papers.My sword had been left behind with Violette.
Had I only my own weapons and my own little mare I could have played with these rascals.But I was not entirely unarmed.The Emperor's own sword hung to the saddle.It was curved and short, the hilt all crusted with gold--a thing more fitted to glitter at a review than to serve a soldier in his deadly need.I drew it, such as it was, and I waited my chance.Every instant the clink and clatter of the hoofs grew nearer.I heard the panting of the horse, and the fellow shouted some threat at me.There was a turn in the lane, and as I rounded it I drew up my white Arab on his haunches.As we spun round I met the Prussian Hussar face to face.He was going too fast to stop, and his only chance was to ride me down.Had he done so he might have met his own death, but he would have injured me or my horse past all hope of escape.But the fool flinched as he saw me waiting and flew past me on my right.I lunged over my Arab's neck and buried my toy sword in his side.It must have been the finest steel and as sharp as a razor, for I hardly felt it enter, and yet his blood was within three inches of the hilt.His horse galloped on and he kept his saddle for a hundred yards before he sank down with his face on the mane and then dived over the side of the neck on to the road.For my own part I was already at his horse's heels.A few seconds had sufficed for all that I have told.
I heard the cry of rage and vengeance which rose from the Prussians as they passed their dead comrade, and I could not but smile as I wonderedwhat they could think of the Emperor as a horseman and a swordsman.I glanced back cautiously as before, and I saw that none of the seven men stopped.The fate of their comrade was nothing compared to the carrying out of their mission.
They were as untiring and as remorseless as bloodhounds.
But I had a good lead and the brave Arab was still going well.I thought that I was safe.And yet it was at that very instant that the most terrible danger befell me.The lane divided, and I took the smaller of the two divisions because it was the more grassy and the easier for the horse's hoofs.Imagine my horror when, riding through a gate, I found myself in a square of stables and farm-buildings, with no way out save that by which I had come! Ah, my friends, if my hair is snowy white, have I not had enough to make it so?
To retreat was impossible.I could hear the thunder of the Prussians' hoofs in the lane.I looked round me, and Nature has blessed me with that quick eye which is the first of gifts to any soldier, but most of all to a leader of cavalry.Between a long, low line of stables and the farm-house there was a pig-sty.Its front was made of bars of wood four feet high; the back was of stone, higher than the front.What was beyond I could not tell.The space between the front and the back was not more than a few yards.It was a desperate venture, and yet I must take it.Every instant the beating of those hurrying hoofs was louder and louder.I put my Arab at the pig-sty.She cleared the front beautifully and came down with her forefeet upon the sleeping pig within, slipping forward upon her knees.I was thrown over the wall beyond, and fell upon my hands and face in a soft flower-bed.My horse was upon one side of the wall, I upon the other, and the Prussians were pouring into the yard.But I was up in an instant and had seized the bridle of the plunging horse over the top of the wall.It was built of loose stones, and I dragged down a few of them to make a gap.As I tugged at the bridle and shouted the gallant creature rose to the leap, and an instant afterward she was by my side and I with my foot on the stirrup.
An heroic idea had entered my mind as I mounted into the saddle.These Prussians, if they came over the pig- sty, could only come one atonce, and their attack would not be formidable when they had not had time to recover from such a leap.Why should I not wait and kill them one by one as they came over? It was a glorious thought.They would learn that Etienne Gerard was not a safe man to hunt.My hand felt for my sword, but you can imagine my feelings, my friends, when I came upon an empty scabbard.It had been shaken out when the horse had tripped over that infernal pig.On what absurd trifles do our destinies hang--a pig on one side, Etienne Gerard on the other! Could I spring over the wall and get the sword? Impossible! The Prussians were already in the yard.I turned my Arab and resumed my flight.
But for a moment it seemed to me that I was in a far worse trap than before.I found myself in the garden of the farm-house, an orchard in the centre and flower- beds all round.A high wall surrounded the whole place.I reflected, however, that there must be some point of entrance, since every visitor could not be expected to spring over the pig-sty.I rode round the wall.As I expected, I came upon a door with a key upon the inner side.I dismounted, unlocked it, opened it, and there was a Prussian Lancer sitting his horse within six feet of me.
