“It ‘s impossible,” replied I, “I never walked so far, since I was born.”
“Where is the citadel?” cried he in a passion.
“In the devil’s keeping,” said I, “or we should have seen it long ago.”
“That must be it yonder,” said an aide-de-camp, pointing to a green, grassy eminence, at the other side of the Scheldt.
The Emperor took the telescope from his hand, and looked through it steadily for a couple of minutes.
“Yes,” said he, “that’s it: but why have we come all this round, the road lay yonder.”
“Ja!” said I, “so it did.”
“Ventre bleu!” roared he, while he stamped his foot upon the ground, “ce gaillard se moque de nous.”
“Ja!” said I again, without well knowing why.
“The citadel is there! It is yonder!” cried he, pointing with his finger.