He re-entered the room, and stood for a few moments by the window, looking over the moonlit ridge.

The sounds of distant cannon had long since ceased.

Wide awake, and refreshed by the keen morning air, which alone of all created things seemed to have shaken the burden of the dreadful yesterday from its dewy wings, he turned away and lit a candle on the table.

As he was rebuckling his sword belt he saw a piece of paper lying on the foot of the bed from which he had just risen.

Taking it to the candle, he read in a roughly scrawled hand: "You are asleep when you should be on the march.