It is like a dream, all
that walk in the first dim grey light of dawn, with the
smouldering camp-fires around me and the buzz of the waking army.
Bugles and drums in every direction were mustering the infantry,
for the explosion and the shouting had told their own tale. I
strode onward until, as I entered the little clump of cork oaks
behind the horse lines, I saw my twelve comrades waiting in a
group, their sabres at their sides. They looked at me curiously
as I approached. Perhaps with my powder- blackened face and my
blood-stained hands I seemed a different Gerard to the young
captain whom they had made game of the night before.
"Good morning, gentlemen," said I. "I regret exceedingly if I
have kept you waiting, but I have not been master of my own
time."
They said nothing, but they still scanned me with curious eyes.
I can see them now, standing in a line before me, tall men and
short men, stout men and thin men: Olivier, with his warlike
moustache; the thin, eager face of Pelletan; young Oudin, flushed
by his first duel; Mortier, with the sword-cut across his
wrinkled brow.
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