Of the two generals, one was a
fierce old man, white-haired and wrinkled, with a ragged,
grizzled moustache and a voice like the bark of a hound. The
other was younger, but long-faced and solemn. He measured
distances upon the map with the air of a student, while his
companion stamped and fumed and cursed like a corporal of
Hussars. It was strange to see the old man so fiery and the
young one so reserved. I could not understand all that they
said, but I was very sure about their general meaning.
"I tell you we must push on and ever on!" cried the old fellow,
with a furious German oath. "I promised Wellington that I would
be there with the whole army even if I had to be strapped to my
horse. Bulow's corps is in action, and Ziethen's shall support
it with every man and gun. Forward, Gneisenau, forward!"
The other shook his head.
"You must remember, your Excellency, that if the English are
beaten they will make for the coast. What will your position be
then, with Grouchy between you and the Rhine?"
"We shall beat them, Gneisenau; the Duke and I will grind them to
powder between us.
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