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The officers got up and stood round the Cossacks and their

prisoner. The French dragoon was a young Alsatian who spoke

French with a German accent. He was breathless with agitation,

his face was red, and when he heard some French spoken he at once

began speaking to the officers, addressing first one, then

another. He said he would not have been taken, it was not his

fault but the corporal's who had sent him to seize some

horsecloths, though he had told him the Russians were there. And

at every word he added: "But don't hurt my little horse!" and

stroked the animal. It was plain that he did not quite grasp

where he was. Now he excused himself for having been taken

prisoner and now, imagining himself before his own officers,

insisted on his soldierly discipline and zeal in the service. He

brought with him into our rearguard all the freshness of

atmosphere of the French army, which was so alien to us.