Sir Arthur Conan Doyle

The Adventures of Gerard Sir Arthur Conan Doyle

It was the old Brigadier who was talking in the cafe. I have seen a great many cities, my friends. I would not dare to tell you how many I haveentered as a conqueror with eight hundred of my little fighting devils clanking and jinglingbehind me. The cavalry were in front of the Grande Armee, and the Hussars of Conflanswere in front of the cavalry, and I was in front of the Hussars. But of all the cities which wevisited Venice is the most ill-built and ridiculous. I cannot imagine how the people who laidit out thought that the cavalry could manoeuvre. It would puzzle Murat or Lassalle to bringa squadron into that square of theirs. For this reason we left Kellermann's heavy brigadeand also my own Hussars at Padua on the mainland. But Suchet with the infantry held thetown, and he had chosen me as his aide-de-camp for that winter, because he was pleasedabout the affair of the Italian fencing-master at Milan. The fellow was a good swordsman, and it was fortunate for the credit of French arms that it was I who was opposed to him. Besides, he deserved a lesson, for if one does not like a prima donna's singing one canalways be silent, but it is intolerable that a public affront should be put upon a prettywoman. So the sympathy was all with me, and after the affair had blown over and the man'swidow had been pensioned Suchet chose me as his own galloper, and I followed him toVenice, where I had the strange adventure which I am about to tell you. You have not been to Venice? No, for it is seldom that the French travel. We were greattravellers in those days. From Moscow to Cairo we had travelled everywhere, but we wentin larger parties than were convenient to those whom we visited, and we carried ourpassports in our limbers. It will be a bad day for Europe when the French start travellingagain, for they are slow to leave their homes, but when they have done so no one can sayhow far they will go if they have a guide like our little man to point out the way. But thegreat days are gone and the great men are dead, and here am I, the last of them, drinkingwine of Suresnes and telling old tales in a cafe