One morning as, with half a dozen hussars, I was ranging the thickets on the flank of the advance, with the spirit of an English fox-hunter, on reaching the summit of a rising ground, I saw, some miles off, a party of horsemen making their way at full speed across the country.  The perfect level of the plains, particularly in Champagne, makes the ground as open as a race-course.  I called my hussars, and we galloped forward to intercept.  On seeing us, they slackened their speed, and were evidently in consultation.  At length the sight of our uniforms reassured then, and one of their number came forward to meet us.  To our enquiry, the answer was, that “General Lafayette desired to be led to the headquarters.”  I now saw this memorable man for the first time, and was busy, in my usual style, in looking for the hero or the revolutionist in his physiognomy.  I was disappointed in both.  I saw a quiet visage, and a figure of moderate size, rather embonpoint, and altogether the reverse of that fire-eyed and lean-countenanced “Cassius” which I had pictured in my imagination.  But his manners perplexed me as much as his features.  They were calm, easy, and almost frank.  It was impossible to recognize in him the Frenchman, except by his language; and he was the last man in whom I could ever have detected that pride of the theatre, the “French marquis.”  His manners were English, and I had a fellow-feeling for him even in our short ride to the camp, and congratulated myself on being thrown into the intercourse of one who had played so conspicuous a part in the most conspicuous scene of our day.

But on his introduction to the duke, my ardour received a sudden chill.  I saw instantly, by the utter absence of all cordiality in his reception, that the French fugitive had taken a dangerous step, and that his Parisian ill fortune had deprived his retreat of all merit in the sight of the commander-in-chief.  My doubts were soon confirmed by a message from his tent.  I obeyed; and as I passed the lines, saw Lafayette surrounded by a troop of Hulans of the Guard.  I found the duke pacing uneasily in front of the tent.

“M.  Marston,” said he, with a vexed manner, “your capture of this morning has added to our perplexities.  You acted zealously, and with the spirit that distinguishes your nation; but I heartily wish that M. La Fayette had taken any other direction than towards us.  His fall has been contemplated for some time, and even the possibility of his being arrested by some of our parties.  I have received a communication from the Allied cabinets on the contingency; and the question now is, how to execute my order without public weakness or personal severity.”

I proposed to accompany him, while we were on the march, and to pledge myself for his honour when we arrived at quarters.

“Generously offered,” was the reply.  “But my duty, in the first instance, prohibits his remaining in the camp; and in the next, my feelings for himself would spare a man who has commanded the enemy’s troops, the sight of that actual collision which must immediately take place.  We attack the defiles of the Argonne to-morrow.”