“Charnyetski is gone,” repeated the officers and soldiers to one another.
In fact, the march was made in quiet. From the forest depths came no shouts; from thickets fell no darts, hurled by invisible hands.
Toward evening Karl Gustav arrived at Grabov, joyous and in good humor. He was just preparing for sleep when Aschemberg announced through the officer of the day that he wished greatly to see the king.
After a while he entered the royal quarters, not alone, but with a captain of dragoons. The king, who had a quick eye and a memory so enormous that he remembered nearly every soldier’s name, recognized the captain at once.
“What is the news, Freed?” asked he. “Has Dubois returned?”
“Dubois is killed.”
The king was confused; only now did he notice that the captain looked as if he had been taken from the grave; and his clothes were torn.
“But the dragoons?” inquired he, “those two regiments?”
“All cut to pieces. I alone was let off alive.”
The dark face of the king became still darker; with his hands he placed his locks behind his ears.