"This barrack seems pretty full, comrade," he said to a man whom he
saw by the doorway.
"If you can get in you'll be a clever trooper," replied the officer,
without turning his head or ceasing to slice off with his sabre the
bark of the logs of which the house was built.
"Is that you, Philippe?" said the aide-de-camp, recognizing a friend
by the tones of his voice.
"Yes. Ha, ha! is it you, old fellow?" replied Monsieur de Sucy,
looking at the aide-de-camp, who, like himself, was only twenty-three
years of age. "I thought you were the other side of that cursed river.
What are you here for? Have you brought cakes and wine for our
dessert? You'll be welcome," and he went on slicing off the bark,
which he gave as a sort of provender to his horse.
"I am looking for your commander to tell him, from General Eble, to
make for Zembin. You'll have barely enough time to get through that
crowd of men below. I am going presently to set fire to their camp and
force them to march."
"You warm me up--almost! That news makes me perspire. I have two
friends I MUST save. Ah! without those two to cling to me, I should be
dead already. It is for them that I feed my horse and don't eat
myself. Have you any food,--a mere crust? It is thirty hours since
anything has gone into my stomach, and yet I have fought like a madman
--just to keep a little warmth and courage in me.
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