"The stake," said I, "is nothing less than the honour of the Hussars of Conflans."
"Well, come on!" he answered. "If we break you, well and good—if you break us, it will be all the better for Marshal Millefleurs."
When he said that I could only stare at him in astonishment.
"Why for Marshal Millefleurs?" I asked.
"It is the name of a rascal who lives out this way. My dragoons have been sent by Lord Wellington to see him safely hanged."
"Name of a name!" I cried. "Why, my hussars have been sent by Massena for that very object."
We burst out laughing at that, and sheathed our swords. There was a whirr of steel from behind us as our troopers followed our example.
"We are allies!" he cried.
"For a day."
"We must join forces."
"There is no doubt of it."
And so, instead of fighting, we wheeled our half squadrons round and moved in two little columns down the valley, the shakos and the helmets turned inwards, and the men looking their neighbours up and down, like old fighting dogs with tattered ears who have learned to respect each other's teeth. The most were on the broad
