“Sir!” said Monteith, turning hastily round. “Oh! ’tis you, Keppel. What think you of this morning?”
“Why, that it will be a glorious day for some; and for you and me, I hope, among others. Do you know that the Elector of Bavaria purposes a general assault to-day?”
“I might guess as much, from the preparations going on. Well, would it were to-morrow!”
“Sure you are not afraid, Monteith?”
“Afraid! It is not worth while to quarrel at present; but methinks you, Keppel, might have spared that word. There are not many men who might utter it and live.”
“Nay, I meant no offence; yet permit me to say, that your words and manner are strangely at variance with your usual bearing on a battle-morn.”
“Perhaps so,” replied Monteith; “and, but that your English prejudices will refuse assent, it might be accounted for. That sun will rise to-morrow with equal power and splendour, gilding this earth’s murky vapours, but I shall not behold his glory.”
“Now, do tell me some soothful narrative of a second-sighted seer,” said Keppel. “I promise to do my best to believe it. At any rate, I will not laugh outright, I assure you.”
“I fear not that. It is no matter to excite mirth; and, in truth, I feel at present strangely inclined to be communicative. Besides, I have a request to make; and I may as well do something to induce you to grant it.”
“That I readily will, if in my power,” replied Keppel. “So, proceed with your story, if you please.”