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"Mon Lieutenant, ... mon Lieutenant, your horse is wounded." I had dismounted in a moment, and tears came to my eyes. I had forgotten the anger and impatience that "Tourne-Toujours'" savage temper had so often caused me. What had they done to my brave and noble companion-in-arms?
But on that occasion I merely laughed in my sleeve, knowing that in a few minutes, when the charge had begun, "Tourne-Toujours" would soon have made them all keep their proper distance, and something more. I took a pleasure in looking at the faces of the men of the third squadron, whose troops were riding in column abreast of us.
The noble animal had brought me back safely, and then, as he stood still on his four trembling legs, his neck raised, his nostrils dilated, his ears pricked, he fixed his eyes on the distance and seemed to look approaching death in the face. Poor 'Tourne-Toujours, you could not divine the pain I felt as I patted you, as gently as I should touch a little suffering child!
Even the corporal in the centre allowed his horse to graze the haunches of mine, "Tourne-Toujours," my gallant charger, the fiery thoroughbred which had so often maddened me at the riding schools of the regiment and at manoeuvres, by his savageness and the shaking he gave me. "Tourne-Toujours" gave evident signs of excitement.
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