The whole thing appeared like some shocking dream.

I felt a hand upon my shoulder, while a rough voice called in my ear, '_Capitaine du soixante-neuvieme, tu es mon frere!_' "It was Ney who spoke.

This," added the brave captain, his eyes filling as he said the words,--"this is the sabre he gave me." I know not why I have narrated this anecdote; it has little in itself, but somehow, to me it brings back in all its fulness the recollection of that night.
There was something so strongly characteristic of the old Napoleonist in the tone of his narrative that I listened throughout with breathless attention.

I began to feel too, for the first time, what a powerful arm in war the Emperor had created by fostering the spirit of individual enterprise.

The field thus opened to fame and distinction left no bounds to the ambition of any.