The fourth squadron remained in the village of Gladebeck on outpost duty.
The horses were foddered and provided with straw, according to the rules of the service and the heart of the cavalry soldier, whose first care is always for his horse.
A cheerful fire burned in the street of the village, which stands at the foot of a hill overlooking a broad plain of meadows and orchards. Below, the lights from the village windows gleamed through the clear night, and in the distance echoing voices were heard, with signals, and trampling horse-hoofs. The dark sky glittered with stars, and the soft night-wind blew refreshingly over the fields after the heat of the day.
Upon the hill a single vedette stood motionless, a carbineer named Schenkel.
Before the fire, upon a heap of clean well-piled straw, lay two young officers, Lieutenants von Wendenstein and Stolzenberg. The water in a campaigning kettle bubbled and steamed; brandy, lemons and great lumps of sugar were abundant, and Lieutenant von Stolzenberg, a handsome, pleasing-looking young man, prepared in two silver beakers the fragrant invigorating drink which inspired Schiller in his immortal song. Ham, bread, and sausages lay around, proving that the peasants of Gladebeck had treated their guests to all that their store-chambers could afford.
Stolzenberg mixed the beverage, tasted it, and passed the cup to his comrade after he had stirred it with a piece of wood.
"Do you believe in presentiments, Wendenstein?" he asked.
"I really scarcely know," replied that young gentleman, raising himself from the comfortable position in which he lay gazing up at the sky, to take the cup and drink a hearty draught,--"I really scarcely know, I have never thought about it; but," he added, laughing, as he placed the cup conveniently before him on the ground, "I should like to believe, for if a presentiment is a certain indescribable feeling that penetrates us and gives us a peep into the magic mirror of the future, my future must be bright and clear; everything smiles upon me so merrily that I could gallop for miles to-night for the simple pleasure of the thing. You see, Stolzenberg," said he, drawing a cigar from his pocket and carefully cutting the end with a small knife, "it is such a pleasure to escape from that weary garrison-life, and to go into the field to a real actual war; such a night as this, old fellow, in bivouac under the open sky, is the most delightful thing a soldier can wish for. Give me a light for my cigar."
Herr von Stolzenberg gave him a glowing piece of wood, from which with the skill of a connoisseur in the art of smoking he kindled his cigar, the fine aroma of which soon rose in the air.
"Well, and what do your presentiments say, Stolzenberg?" he asked; "or rather, have you had a presentiment?"