The heavy-cheeked landlord was there and his flaxen-haired wife, the two men from the stables, a chambermaid, and two or three villagers.  All of them, women and men, were flushed and angry, while there in the centre of them, with pale cheeks and terror in her eyes, stood the loveliest woman that ever a soldier would wish to look upon.  With her queenly head thrown back, and a touch of defiance mingled with her fear, she looked as she gazed round her like a creature of a different race from the vile, coarse-featured crew who surrounded her.  I had not taken two steps from my door before she sprang to meet me, her hand resting upon my arm and her blue eyes sparkling with joy and triumph.

‘A French soldier and gentleman!’ she cried.  ‘Now at last I am safe.’

‘Yes, madam, you are safe,’ said I, and I could not resist taking her hand in mine in order that I might reassure her.  ’You have only to command me,’ I added, kissing the hand as a sign that I meant what I was saying.

‘I am Polish,’ she cried; ’the Countess Palotta is my name.  They abuse me because I love the French.  I do not know what they might have done to me had Heaven not sent you to my help.’

I kissed her hand again lest she should doubt my intentions.  Then I turned upon the crew with such an expression as I know how to assume.  In an instant the hall was empty.

‘Countess,’ said I, ’you are now under my protection.  You are faint, and a glass of wine is necessary to restore you.’  I offered her my arm and escorted her into my room, where she sat by my side at the table and took the refreshment which I offered her.

How she blossomed out in my presence, this woman, like a flower before the sun!  She lit up the room with her beauty.  She must have read my admiration in my eyes, and it seemed to me that I also could see something of the sort in her own.  Ah! my friends, I was no ordinary-looking man when I was in my thirtieth year.  In the whole light cavalry it would have been hard to find a finer pair of whiskers.  Murat’s may have been a shade longer, but the best judges are agreed that Murat’s were a shade too long.  And then I had a manner.  Some women are to be approached in one way and some in another, just as a siege is an affair of fascines and gabions in hard weather and of trenches in soft.  But the man who can mix daring with timidity, who can be outrageous with an air of humility, and presumptuous with a tone of deference, that is the man whom mothers have to fear.  For myself, I felt that I was the guardian of this lonely lady, and knowing what a dangerous man I had to deal with, I kept strict watch upon myself.  Still, even a guardian has his privileges, and I did not neglect them.