But the others
paid no attention to the cannon. They were light of heart and easy of
tongue. They chaffed one another in the cool dawn, and cried to the
cooks for breakfast, which was soon brought to them, hot and plentiful.
"I suppose it's forward again," said Carstairs between drinks of coffee.
"I fancy you're right," said Wharton. "Since we've been put in the
brigade of that giant of a general, Vaugirard, we're always going
forward. He seems to have an uncommon love of fighting for a fat man."
"It's an illusion," said John, "that a fat man is more peaceful than a
thin one."
"How are you going to prove it?" asked Wharton.
"Look at Napoleon. When he was thin he was a great fighter, and when he
became stout he was just as great a fighter as ever. Fat didn't take
away his belligerency."
"I hear that the whole German army has been driven across the Marne,"
said Carstairs, "and that the force we hoped to cut off has either
escaped or is about to escape. If that's so they won't retreat much
further. The pride of the Germans is too great, and their army is too
powerful for them to yield much more ground to us."
"I think you're right, or about as near right as an Englishman can be,
Carstairs," said John. "What must be the feelings of the Emperor and the
kings and the princes and the grand dukes and the dukes and the martial
professors to know that the German army has been turned back from Paris,
just when the City of Light seemed ready to fall into their hands?"
"Pretty bitter, I think," said Carstairs, "but it's not pleasant to have
the capital of a country fall into the hands of hostile armies.
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