The cuirassier then turned his head and gazed at George; but he spoke not a word. He seemed to be mute with stupefaction.
"You have come from a fight, my friend, haven't you?" said my cousin, gently.
"Yes, sir."
"So they have been fighting to-day?"
"Yes."
"Where?"
The cuirassier pointed in the direction of the Falberg, on the left by the saw-mills. "Down there," he said, "behind the mountains."
"At Reichshoffen?"
"Yes, that is it: at Reichshoffen."
"This man is exhausted," said George: "Catherine, bring some wine." My wife took the bottle out of the cupboard and filled a glass; but the cuirassier would not drink: he looked on the ground before him, as if something was before his eyes. What he had just told us made us turn pale.