How I longed to turn
Violette, and to lead my Hussars into the thick of it! What a
picture! Etienne Gerard with his back to the battle, and a fine
cavalry action raging behind him.
But duty is duty, so I rode past Marbot's vedettes and on in the
direction of the wood, passing the village of Frishermont upon my
left.
In front of me lay the great wood, called the Wood of Paris,
consisting mostly of oak trees, with a few narrow paths leading
through it. I halted and listened when I reached it, but out of
its gloomy depths there came no blare of trumpet, no murmur of
wheels, no tramp of horses to mark the advance of that great
column which, with my own eyes, I had seen streaming toward it.
The battle roared behind me, but in front all was as silent as
that grave in which so many brave men would shortly sleep. The
sunlight was cut off by the arches of leaves above my head, and a
heavy damp smell rose from the sodden ground. For several miles
I galloped at such a pace as few riders would care to go with
roots below and branches above.
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