I
reflected that this Stein was probably as fine a swordsman as he
was a rider, and that it might take me some little time to get
the better of him. In that case the others would come to his aid
an I should be lost. On the whole, it was wiser to continue my
flight.
A road with poplars on either side ran across the plain from east
to west. It would lead me toward that long line of dust which
marked the French retreat. I wheeled my horse, therefore, and
galloped down it. As I rode I saw a single house in front of me
upon the right, with a great bush hung over the door to mark it
as an inn. Outside there were several peasants, but for them I
cared nothing. What frightened me was to see the gleam of a red
coat, which showed that there were British in the place.
However, I could not turn and I could not stop, so there was
nothing for it but to gallop on and to take my chance. There
were no troops in sight, so these men must be stragglers or
marauders, from whom I had little to fear. As I approached I saw
that there were two of them sitting drinking on a bench outside
the inn door.
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