At this moment there was a bustle on the hill top, and presently the artillery began once more to play, while the musketry breezed up again in the distance. A mounted bugler rode half way down the hill, and sounded the recall. The young officer hesitated. He man waved his hand, and blew the advance.
“It must be for us—answer it.” His bugle did so. “Bring the pitch, men the flax—so now—break the windows, and let the air in—set the house on fire; and, Sergeant Guido, remain to prevent it being extinguished I shall fire the village as we pass through.”
He gave the word to face about; and, desiring the men to follow at the same swinging run with which the whole of the infantry had originally advanced, he spurred his horse against the hill, and soon disappeared.
My host’s resolution seemed now taken. Turning to the sergeant, “My good fellow, the reconnoissance will soon be returning; I shall precede it into the town.”
The man, a fine vieux moustache, hesitated.
My friend saw it, and hit him in a Frenchman’s most assailable quarter.
“The ladies, my good man—the ladies!—You would not have them drive in pell-mell with the troops, exposed most likely to the fire of the Prussian advanced-guard, would you?”
The man grounded his musket, and touched his cap—“Pass on.” Away we trundled, until, coming to a cross-road, we turned down towards the river; and at the angle we could see thick wreaths of smoke curling up into the air, showing that the barbarous order had been but too effectually fulfilled.
“What is that?” said——.
A horse, with his rider entangled and dragged by the stirrup, passed us at full speed, leaving a long track of blood on the road.