“We have had some trouble to bring them about,” Benassis answered; “but then, see what fine cattle they are!”

“They are splendid beasts certainly; you had good reason to praise them to me,” answered Genestas.

“Now,” said the doctor, when he had mounted his horse and passed under the gateway, “we are going over some of the newly cleared waste, and through the corn land.  I have christened this little corner of our Commune, ‘La Beauce.’”

For about an hour they rode at a foot pace across fields in a state of high cultivation, on which the soldier complimented the doctor; then they came down the mountain side into the township again, talking whenever the pace of their horses allowed them to do so.  At last they reached a narrow glen, down which they rode into the main valley.

“I promised yesterday,” Benassis said to Genestas, “to show you one of the two soldiers who left the army and came back to us after the fall of Napoleon.  We shall find him somewhere hereabouts, if I am not mistaken.  The mountain streams flow into a sort of natural reservoir or tarn up here; the earth they bring down has silted it up, and he is engaged in clearing it out.  But if you are to take any interest in the man, I must tell you his history.  His name is Gondrin.  He was only eighteen years old when he was drawn in the great conscription of 1792, and drafted into a corps of gunners.  He served as a private soldier in Napoleon’s campaigns in Italy, followed him to Egypt, and came back from the East after the Peace of Amiens.  In the time of the Empire he was incorporated in the Pontoon Troop of the Guard, and was constantly on active service in Germany, lastly the poor fellow made the Russian campaign.”

“We are brothers-in-arms then, to some extent,” said Genestas; “I have made the same campaigns.  Only an iron frame would stand the tricks played by so many different climates.  My word for it, those who are still standing on their stumps after marching over Italy, Egypt, Germany, Portugal, and Russia must have applied to Providence and taken out a patent for living.”

“Just so, you will see a solid fragment of a man,” answered Benassis.  “You know all about the Retreat from Moscow; it is useless to tell you about it.  This man I have told you of is one of the pontooners of the Beresina; he helped to construct the bridge by which the army made the passage, and stood waist-deep in water to drive in the first piles.  General Eble, who was in command of the pontooners, could only find forty-two men who were plucky enough, in Gondrin’s phrase, to tackle that business.  The general himself came down to the stream to hearten and cheer the men, promising each of them a pension of a thousand francs and the Cross of the Legion of Honor.  The first who went down into the Beresina had his leg taken off by a block of ice, and the man himself was washed away; but you will better understand the difficulty of the task when you hear the end of the story.  Of the forty-two volunteers, Gondrin is the only one alive to-day.  Thirty-nine of them lost their lives in the Beresina, and the two others died miserably in a Polish hospital.