The formation of ranks was accomplished almost noiselessly. The orderly sergeants called their rolls in tones scarcely above a whisper; all commands were given with hushed voices. It was as if they were fearful of rousing some one from sleep, or as if death was present in the house.
The command to “Rest!” was given. This left the boys free to move in their places and to talk; but there were few who moved and there were none who talked. The stillness was impressive. Only two lamps were burning in the drill-hall, and the corners of the room were in deep shadow.
Outside, by the door, a carriage waited, and there was heard at times the impatient pawing of horses.
After a few minutes Colonel Silsbee and General Brede entered from the dining-room. The battalion was called to attention, and a squad of four was detailed, in charge of a sergeant, to proceed to the guard-house, relieve the sentinels on duty there, and escort Cadet Brede to the drill-hall.
They passed out and up the stairs, and all was again quiet.
Colonel Silsbee stood near the stairway entrance. General Brede had taken up a position at the farther end of the hall by the outside door. Dressed in military hat and cloak, magnificent in figure, stern of countenance, he stood with folded arms, like the immovable statue of a soldier.
Once the horses moved outside; once a sudden shifting of the wind caused the rain to dash noisily against the windows. Save for these sounds the stillness was unbroken.
After a little the regular tramp of feet was heard descending the staircase, and out from the darkness the squad marched, with Brede in the midst, straight to Colonel Silsbee. The salute was given and returned, and the soldiers retired to their places in the ranks. With a slight motion of his hand, the colonel directed Brede to go with him. Then they went together down the length of the hall, down the front of the battalion.
The disgraced cadet started on the trying journey with all of his old-time swagger. He looked boldly into the faces of his companions, and forced the hard smile again into his face, and the old cruel curl into his lips.
But there was no answering smile from the motionless ranks. Every lip was like marble; every face was like adamant. It was a terrible farewell. The light went out from Brede’s countenance as he walked; the curl left his lips; his face grew pale as death, and took on an expression of agony and fear. Step by step his swagger left him; step by step his head fell, his shoulders bowed, his body shrank into itself. It was as if he were passing to his execution.