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Page 87
John sat down, looked at the faint flashes on the far horizon and
listened to that moaning which grew in volume as one paid close
attention to it. Europe or a great part of it had gone mad. He was
filled once more with wrath against kings and all their doings as he
looked upon the murderous aftermath of feudalism, the most gigantic of
all wars, made in a few hours by a few men sitting around a table. Then
he laughed at himself. What was he! A mere feather in a cyclone!
Certainly he had been blown about like one!
His nervous imagination now passed quickly and throwing himself upon the
ground he slept like those around him. All the Strangers were awakened
at early dawn by the signal of a trumpet, and when John opened his eyes
he found the air still quivering beneath the throb of the guns. As he
had foreseen they had never ceased in the darkness, and he could not
remember how many days and nights now they had been raining steel upon
human beings.
He was refreshed and strengthened by a night of good sleep, but his mind
was as sensitive as ever. In the morning no less bitterly than at night
he raged against the folly and ambition of the kings. 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. 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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