The Bronze Eagle

the plateau of La Motte with its magnificent panorama of forests and mountain peaks, a narrow bridle path strikes off at a sharp angle

range, whilst towering some seven thousand and more feet up the snow-clad crest of Grande Mouche

down in the valley, and now the keen wind from the northeast whipped up the faces

inkled with lather, and they themselves were plentifully bespattered with mud, for the road in the valley was soft after the thaw. But despite probable fatigue, both sat their horse with that ease and unco

the temples from beneath his white sugar-loaf hat, and escaping the trammels of the neatly-tied black silk bow at the nape of the neck; he held himself v

tly between his fingers. He was obviously taller and probably older than his companion, broader of shoulder and fairer of skin; you might imagine him

trees, the white-washed cottages of the tiny hamlet glimmered with dazzling clearness in the frosty atmosphere. At a sharp bend of the road, which effectually revealed the foremost of these cottages, distant

great and glorious and authentic news of him from a man who has seen him as lately as forty-eight hours ago, who has touched his hand, heard the sound of his voice, seen the look of confidence and of hope

upon his ravings with

de Marmont," he said drily. "Don't you think that-as we shall have to mix again with o

trembled all the time, his hand shook and his eyes glowed j

shouts-and I'll have none of your English stiffness and reserve and curbing of enthusiasm to-day. I am a lunatic if you will-an escaped lu

nion drily. "May I ask how I hav

s death, instead of exulting in his glory, trusting in his star, believing in him, following him. If I were not a Frenchman on a day like this, if my nationality or my patriotism dem

different to his friend's: it had more enjoyment in it, more good temper, more appreciat

s enthusiastic tirades, and as he did so there crept into his merry, pleasan

misfortune to be a prosy, shop-keeping Englishman, you would certainly not commit suicide just because you could not enthuse over your favourite hero, but you would realise soberly

look almost of foreboding, as if Fate that already lay in wait for the

furde resumed

r as the village? It is not yet ten o'clock.

came more sparse, disclosing the great patches of moss-covered rock upon the slopes of Pelvoux. On Taillefer the eternal snows appeared wonderfully near in the brilliance of this ea

from the little chapel which holds the shrine of Notre Dame came the sweet, insis

ower as it rose well above Pelvoux, and the sky over the dark fo