tattered grey pantaloons and a long smock-frock,
appeared at the edge of a wood, situate between
the large village of Champagney and the little
town of Lure. Uncle Philibert, for it was really
he, cast a distrustful glance over the snowy
fields, on which night was falling fast. After
reconnoitring the neighbourhood, he returned to
the thicket, and began walking with difficulty
along a path which ran parallel to the high
road.

About nine o'clock the same evening, his
sister, as usual, unchained her watch-dog, Turk.
The animal soon gave notice of some
unaccustomed presence close at hand. Outside
the garden gate, following the dog, Eugénie and
her maids found Philibert stretched on the snow, in
a state of unconsciousness. They carried him
in-doors, put him to bed, and succeeded in
restoring him to life; but of his late adventures
he could give a very imperfect account.
Of his first and only battle he retained no more
than a confused recollection. He remembered
experiencing a dreadful shock on hearing the
roaring of the cannon, above all which he thought
he heard his father's angry voice rebuking him.

At that period not a few Frenchmen who
had retired from the service were settled on the
banks of the Rhine; and a number of unfortunate
soldiers owed their lives to their generous
compatriots, after the disastrous and bloody
battle of Leipzig. Uncle Philibert, half crazy,
had had the good fortune to be succoured by
one of these worthy men, who took him under
his own roof. After three days' rest, his host
gave him a blouse, a pair of linen trousers, and
a broad-brimmed German hat, accompanied by
a great lump of bread and a gourd full of
kirschwasser. Thus provisioned he set off on his
journey, travelling by night only, and sustaining
life on victuals furtively obtained at farm-houses
and isolated cottages. It had taken him more
than six weeks to traverse the hundred leagues.

"Yesterday," he said, concluding his sad
narrative, more than half of which his sister had been
obliged to guess, " I had been two days entirely
without food, and I firmly believed that I was
dying when I fell down at the little garden
door, where Turk discovered me. You have
once more saved me, my dear sister, and I will
never leave you—never, never! We will go
together to Italy, where I will paint you some
beautiful pictures. Until we start you must hide
me well; for the gendarmes are searching after
me, to take me back to battle. Oh! The
battle!"

Uncle Philibert hid his face in his hands, as if
to shut out the sight of a struggle; and, after
a moment's pause, continued with increasing
excitement, " You do not know what a battle
is. You hear nothing but thunder; you walk in
nothing but blood; you see nothing but men
without heads stalking by your side; and then
there is a great silence. Everybody is killed."

Eugénie was horribly shocked. She could no
longer doubt that Philibert's delicate organisation,
which had been so severely tried by the
schoolmaster's severity, had given way under
fresh attacks.  But the brave sister's first
care was to instal him in the same conditions
of comfort and quiet by which she had obtained
such good results before the great levies of
men which followed the Russian campaign.
The members of the household were the only
persons in Lure who knew of the billet-master's
arrival.  He had been entered as missing on the
regimental list.   Events, moreover, marched with
prodigious rapidity;  the territory of France was
invaded at all points by the allied armies; Lure
was overcrowded with soldiers; and the
bewildered authorities took no more thought
of Philibert than the townsmen did.   Eugénie
was still further reassured by the isolated
situation of her residence; for the enemy's
generals, unless forced by circumstances,
did not like to see their troops dispersed over a
too great extent of ground.  She had not yet
made acquaintance with marauders—that pest
of all armies, whether victorious or vanquished.

Philibert's room was on the second and top
story of the house, immediately above his
sister's. The ground floor consisted of a vast
kitchen, which served as a place of family
meeting during winter evenings, with a
dining-room and a saloon adjoining.

One January evening, in the year 1814,
Eugénie and her two servants were at work near
the kitchen hearth, on which was blazing one of
those capital wood fires which are to be found
only in the country. Philibert, who on resuming
his colours and brushes had forgotten all
about the battle of the Partha, was in his
chamber, finishing a sketch he had begun in the
morning. The children were in bed and asleep.
The clock had just struck seven, and Turk had
not yet been unchained.

"My girls," said the mistress of the house,
"I feel very fatigued; I mean to go to bed early,
and I advise you to do the same. As soon as we
have made our usual round, I shall leave you,
and join my children."

So saying, she rose, opened the kitchen door,
and went towards the brave dog Turk's kennel,
when the animal, rushing forward to the utmost
extent of his chain, began to bark furiously. A
human form had just made its appearance on the
top of the wall which separated the court-yard
from the high road.

"Come in-doors, my girls; quick! come in!"
cried Eugénie, justly alarmed at the sight of the
stranger astride on the wall. " There's a robber
there. Gently, Turk; good dog, Turk; you
mean to defend us." At the same time she
contrived with some difficulty to unfasten the
chain attached to his collar.

The instant he was free, Turk darted towards
the wall, while his mistress took refuge in the
kitchen. A shot was fired, the barking ceased,
and the three women, clinging together, had not
time to close the door, when a dozen flat-nosed
shaggy-bearded Cossacks rushed in. The most
frightful of these demons held in his hand a
pistol, from which the smoke still issued.

At the moment of danger, Eugénie felt boiling
in her veins the noble blood of her townswomen.