"I advance Sergeant Lagroin, of the Old Guard of glorious memory, to the
rank of Captain in my Household Troops, and I command you to obey him as
such."
His look bent upon the crowd, as Napoleon's might have done on the Third
Corps.
"Drummer, call the army to attention," fell the words.
And again like a small whirlwind of hailstones the sticks shook on the
drum.
"I advance Captain Lagroin to the rank of Colonel in my Household Troops,
and I command you to obey him as such."
And once more: "Drummer, call the army to attention."
The sticks swung down, but somehow they faltered, for the drummer was
shaking now.
"I advance Colonel Lagroin to the rank of General in my Household Troops,
and I command you to obey him as such."
Then he beckoned, and the old man drew near. Stooping, he pinned the
order upon his breast. When the sergeant saw what it was, he turned
pale, trembled, and the drumsticks fell from his hand. His eyes shone
like sun on wet glass, then tears sprang from them upon his face. He
caught Valmond's hand and kissed it, and cried, oblivious of them all:
"Ah, sire, sire! It is true. It is true. I know that ribbon, and I
know you are a Napoleon. Sire, I love you, and I will die for you!"
For the first time that day a touch of the fantastic came into Valmond's
manner.
"General," he said, "the centuries look down on us as they looked down on
him, your sire--and mine!"
He doffed his hat, and the hats of all likewise came off in a strange
quiet.
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