I don't
read of such things with delight. It wouldn't give me any such
overwhelming joy for us to march into Berlin. To beat the Germans is
enough."
Another trumpet blew and the Strangers rose for battle again with an
invisible enemy. All the officers, like the men, were on foot, their
horses having been killed in the earlier fighting, and they advanced
slowly across the stubble of a wheat field. The morning was still cool,
although the sun was bright, and the air was full of vigor. The rumbling
of the artillery grew with the day, but the Strangers said little.
Battle had ceased to be a novelty. They would fight somewhere and with
somebody, but they would wait patiently and without curiosity until the
time came.
"I suppose Lannes didn't come back," said Carstairs. "I haven't heard
anyone speak of seeing him this morning."
"He may have returned before we awoke," said John. "The _Arrow_ flies
very fast. Like as not he delivered his message, whatever it was, and
was off again with another in a few minutes. He may be sixty or eighty
miles from here now."
"Odd fellow that Lannes," said Carstairs. "Do you know anything about
his people, Scott?"
"Not much except that he has a mother and sister. I spent a night with
them at their house in Paris. I've heard that French family ties are
strong, but they seemed to look upon him as the weak would regard a
great champion, a knight, in their own phrase, without fear and without
reproach.
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