THE FRENCH POODLE. 157 



as he approached the scene of action. The first occasion on 

 which he distinguished himself was this : His regiment being 

 encamped on the heights above Alexandria, a detachment 

 of Austrians, from the vale of Belbo, attempted a surprise 

 during the night. The weather was stormy, and the French 

 had no notion that the Austrians were close advancing. The 

 camp was in danger, but Moustache was on the alert. Walking 

 his rounds as usual, with his nose in the air, he soon detected 

 the greasy Germans, perhaps by the smell escaping from their 

 knapsacks, full of sour krout and rancid cheese. He gave the 

 alarm, and the foul feeders " fled for safety and for succour." 

 Next morning it was resolved that Moustache should thence- 

 forth receive the ration of a grenadier per diem. He was now 

 cropped a la militaire ; a collar with the name of the regiment 

 was hung round his neck, and the barber was ordered to comb 

 and shave him once a week. 



In a skirmish which occurred, Moustache received a bayonet 

 wound in his left shoulder. He was not perfectly recovered 

 from this accident when the great battle of Marengo took place. 

 Lame as he was, he could not keep away from so grand a scene. 

 He kept close to that banner which he had learned to recognise 

 among a hundred ; and never gave over barking until the 

 evening closed upon the combatants. The Sun of Austerlitz 

 found him with his chasseurs. In the heat of the action he 

 perceived the ensign, who bore the colours of his regiment, 

 surrounded by a detachment of the enemy. He flew to his 

 rescue barked with all his might did all he could but in 

 vain. The ensign fell, covered with a hundred wounds, but not 

 before, feeling himself about to fall, he had wrapped his body 

 in the folds of the standard. Five or six Austrians still remained 

 by the ensign to obtain possession of the colours he had so 

 nobly defended. Moustache having thrown himself on the dead 

 body, was on the point of being pierced with half-a-dozen 

 bayonets, when a timely discharge of grape-shot swept the 

 Austrians into oblivion. The moment that Moustache perceived 

 he was delivered from his assailants, he took the staff of the 



