“Hush! take care! be cautious!” whispered the other. “Let us not forget this poor fellow's business. How are you to settle it? Is the signature of any consequence? The whole sentence all is right and regular.”
“I shouldn't like to omit the signature,” said the other, cautiously; “it looks like carelessness, and might involve us in trouble hereafter.”
“Then we must wait some time, for I see they are gone to dinner.”
“So I perceive,” replied the former, as he lighted his cigar, and seated himself on a bank. “You may let the prisoner sit down, sergeant, and leave his hands free; he looks wearied and exhausted.”
I was too weak to speak, but I looked my gratitude; and sitting down upon the grass, covered my face, and wept heartily.
Although quite close to where the officers sat together chatting and jesting, I heard little or nothing of what they said. Already the things of life had ceased to have any hold upon me; and I could have heard of the greatest victory, or listened to a story of the most fatal defeat, without the slightest interest or emotion. An occasional word or a name would strike upon my ear, but leave no impression nor any memory behind it.
The military band was performing various marches and opera airs before the tent where the general dined, and in the melody, softened by distance, I felt a kind of calm and sleepy repose that lulled me into a species of ecstasy.
At last the music ceased to play, and the adjutant, starting hurriedly up, called on the sergeant to move forward.
“By Jove!” cried he, “they seem preparing for a promenade, and we shall get into a scrape if Berthier sees us here. Keep your party yonder, sergeant, out of sight, till I obtain the signature.”
And so saying, away he went toward the tent at a sharp gallop.