John felt an immense
pride because he, too, was republican to the core, and often there was a
lot in a name.
It was about noon now, and the sun was shining with dazzling brilliancy.
The tall hill and the low hill were clothed in deep green, and the
waters of the little river that ran between, sparkled in the light. The
air was crisp with a cool wind that blew from the west, and John felt
that the omens were good for the great mysterious movement which he
believed to be at hand.
He looked into the tent and saw that Lannes was sleeping soundly, with a
good color in his face. A powerful constitution aided by a strong will
had done its work and he was sure that on the morrow Lannes would again
be the most daring French scout of the air.
John found the waiting hard work. There was so much movement and action
that he wanted to be a part of it. He had thrown in his lot with this
army and he wanted to share its work at once. Yet much time passed, and
de Rougemont did not return. The evidences that the great French army
was marching to the point designated in the note brought by Lannes
multiplied. From the crest of the hill he already saw large bodies of
troops marching forward steadily, their long blue coats flapping
awkwardly about their legs. He wondered once more why they wore such an
inharmonious and conspicuous uniform as blue frock coats and baggy red
trousers.
He heard presently the martial sounds of the Marseillaise, and the
regiment singing it passed very close to him.
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