The soldiers were halted a little distance from the two; and the
officer commanding, after a dull mechanical preamble, in the name of
the Government, formally called upon Valmond and Lagroin to surrender
themselves, or suffer the perils of resistance.
"Never!" broke out Lagroin, and, drawing his sword, he shouted: "Vive
Napoleon! The Old Guard never surrenders!"
Then he made as if to rush forward on the troops. "Fire!" called the
officer.
Twenty rifles blazed out. Lagroin tottered back, and fell at the feet of
his master.
Raising himself, he clasped Valmond's knee, and, looking up, said
gaspingly:
"Adieu, sire! I love you; I die for you." His head fell at his
Emperor's feet, though the hands still clutched the knee.
Valmond stood over his body, one leg on either side, and drew a pistol.
"Surrender, monsieur," said the officer, "or we fire!"
"Never! A Napoleon knows how to die!" was the reply, and he raised
his pistol at the officer.
"Fire!" came the sharp command.
"Vive Napoleon!" cried the doomed man, and fell, mortally wounded.
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