of it all is that his friends have left him alone on the desert island to fulfil a prophecy, for I forgot to say that his name, Napoleon, means ‘lion of the desert.’  Now this that I tell you is true as the Gospel.  All other tales that you hear about the Emperor are follies without common-sense; because, d’ye see, God never gave to child of woman born the right to stamp his name in red as he did, on the earth, which forever shall remember him!  Long live Napoleon, the father of his people and of the soldier!”

“Long live General Eble!” cried the pontonier.

“How happened it you were not killed in the ravine at Moskova?” asked a peasant woman.

“How do I know?  We went in a regiment, we came out a hundred foot-soldiers; none but the lines were capable of taking that redoubt:  the infantry, d’ye see, that’s the real army.”

“And the cavalry! what of that?” cried Genastas, letting himself roll from the top of the hay, and appearing to us with a suddenness which made the bravest utter a cry of terror.  “Eh! my old veteran, you forget the red lancers of Poniatowski, the cuirassiers, the dragoons! they that shook the earth when Napoleon, impatient that the victory was delayed, said to Murat, ‘Sire, cut them in two.’  Ha, we were off! first at a trot, then at a gallop, ‘one, two,’ and the enemy’s line was cut in halves like an apple with a knife.  A charge of cavalry, my old hero! why, ’tis a column of cannon balls!”

“How about the pontoniers?” cried Gondrin.

“My children,” said Genastas, becoming suddenly quite ashamed of his sortie when he saw himself in the midst of a silent and bewildered group, “there are no spies here,—­see, take this and drink to the Little Corporal.”

“LONG LIVE THE EMPEROR!” cried all the people present, with one voice.

“Hush, my children!” said the officer, struggling to control his emotion.  “Hush! he is dead.  He died saying, ’Glory, France, and battle.’  My friends, he had to die, he! but his memory—­never!”

Goguelat made a gesture of disbelief; then he said in a low voice to those nearest, “The officer is still in the service, and he’s told to tell the people the Emperor is dead.  We mustn’t be angry with him, because, d’ye see, a soldier has to obey orders.”

As Genestas left the barn he heard the Fosseuse say, “That officer is a friend of the Emperor and of Monsieur Benassis.”  On that, all the people rushed to the door to get another sight of him, and by the light of the moon they saw the doctor take his arm.

“I committed a great folly,” said Genestas.  “Let us get home quickly.  Those eagles—­the cannon—­the campaigns!  I no longer knew where I was.”

“What do you think of my Goguelat?” asked Benassis.

“Monsieur, so long as such tales are told, France will carry in her entrails the fourteen armies of the Republic, and may at any time renew the conversation of cannon with all Europe.  That’s my opinion.”