The Russian grew pale at my words and the way in which I said them.

‘But this is terrible,’ said he.

‘Horrible!’ said I.  ’If we were to go up together at this moment I cannot promise how far I could protect you.’

‘I am in your hands,’ he cried.  ’What would you suggest that we should do?  Would it not be best that I should remain here?’

‘That worst of all.’

‘And why?’

’Because our fellows will ransack the house presently, and then you would be cut to pieces.  No, no, I must go and break it to them.  But even then, when once they see that accursed uniform, I do not know what may happen.’

‘Should I then take the uniform off?’

‘Excellent!’ I cried.  ’Hold, we have it!  You will take your uniform off and put on mine.  That will make you sacred to every French soldier.’

‘It is not the French I fear so much as the Poles.’

‘But my uniform will be a safeguard against either.’

‘How can I thank you?’ he cried.  ‘But you—­what are you to wear?’

‘I will wear yours.’

‘And perhaps fall a victim to your generosity?’

‘It is my duty to take the risk,’ I answered; ’but I have no fears.  I will ascend in your uniform.  A hundred swords will be turned upon me.  “Hold!” I will shout, “I am the Brigadier Gerard!” Then they will see my face.  They will know me.  And I will tell them about you.  Under the shield of these clothes you will be sacred.’

His fingers trembled with eagerness as he tore off his tunic.  His boots and breeches were much like my own, so there was no need to change them, but I gave him my hussar jacket, my dolman, my shako, my sword-belt, and my sabre-tasche, while I took in exchange his high sheepskin cap with the gold chevron, his fur-trimmed coat, and his crooked sword.  Be it well understood that in changing the tunics I did not forget to change my thrice-precious letter also from my old one to my new.

‘With your leave,’ said I, ‘I shall now bind you to a barrel.’

He made a great fuss over this, but I have learned in my soldiering never to throw away chances, and how could I tell that he might not, when my back was turned, see how the matter really stood, and break in upon my plans?  He was leaning against a barrel at the time, so I ran six times round it with a rope, and then tied it with a big knot behind.  If he wished to come upstairs he would, at least, have to carry a thousand litres of good French wine for a knapsack.  I then shut the door of the back cellar behind me, so that he might not hear what was going forward, and tossing the candle away I ascended the kitchen stair.