‘There are English across the valley, Colonel,’ he cried, as he saluted.

‘Cavalry or infantry?’

‘Dragoons, Colonel,’ said he; ’I saw the gleam of their helmets, and heard the neigh of a horse.’

Halting my men I hastened to the edge of the wood.  There could be no doubt about it.  A party of English cavalry was travelling in a line with us, and in the same direction.  I caught a glimpse of their red coats and of their flashing arms glowing and twinkling among the tree-trunks.  Once, as they passed through a small clearing, I could see their whole force, and I judged that they were of about the same strength as my own—­a half squadron at the most.

You who have heard some of my little adventures will give me credit for being quick in my decisions, and prompt in carrying them out.  But here I must confess that I was in two minds.  On the one hand there was the chance of a fine cavalry skirmish with the English.  On the other hand, there was my mission at the Abbey of Almeixal, which seemed already to be so much above my power.  If I were to lose any of my men, it was certain that I should be unable to carry out my orders.  I was sitting my horse, with my chin in my gauntlet, looking across at the rippling gleams of light from the further wood, when suddenly one of these red-coated Englishmen rode out from the cover, pointing at me and breaking into a shrill whoop and halloa as if I had been a fox.  Three others joined him, and one who was a bugler sounded a call, which brought the whole of them into the open.  They were, as I had thought, a half squadron, and they formed a double line with a front of twenty-five, their officer—­the one who had whooped at me—­at their head.

For my own part, I had instantly brought my own troopers into the same formation, so that there we were, hussars and dragoons, with only two hundred yards of grassy sward between us.  They carried themselves well, those red-coated troopers, with their silver helmets, their high white plumes, and their long, gleaming swords; while, on the other hand, I am sure that they would acknowledge that they had never looked upon finer light horsemen than the fifty hussars of Conflans who were facing them.  They were heavier, it is true, and they may have seemed the smarter, for Wellington used to make them burnish their metal work, which was not usual among us.  On the other hand, it is well known that the English tunics were too tight for the sword-arm, which gave our men an advantage.  As to bravery, foolish, inexperienced people of every nation always think that their own soldiers are braver than any others.  There is no nation in the world which does not entertain this idea.  But when one has seen as much as I have done, one understands that there is no very marked difference, and that although nations differ very much in discipline, they are all equally brave—­except that the French have rather more courage than the rest.