"It is not unlikely," said the peasant gravely, "he was a brave and bold youth, and could have lifted two such as you with one hand and hurled you out of that window."
"Let us hear his name once more," said the elder clerk; "it is worth remembering."
"I have told you already. It was Karl Kleber."
"The General—General Kleber!" cried three or four in a breath.
"Mayhap," was all the reply.
"And are you the father of the great general of Egypt?" asked the elder, with an air of deep respect.
"Kleber is my son; and so that he is alive and well, I care little if a general or simple soldier."
Not a word was said in answer to this speech, and each seemed to feel reluctant to tell the sad tidings. At last the elder clerk said, "You have lost a good son, and France one of her greatest captains. The General Kleber is dead."
"Dead!" said the old man, slowly.
"In the very moment of his greatest glory, too, when he had won the country of the Pyramids, and made Egypt a colony of France."