But they pretended not to hear him, and turned over, gaping, to sleep again.
The clock of Gross-Gorschen was striking six when I awoke. I was sore and weary yet. Nevertheless, I sat up and tried to warm myself, for I was very cold. The fires were smoking, and almost extinguished. Nothing of them remained but the ashes and a few embers. The sergeant, erect, was gazing over the vast plain where the sun shot a few long lines of gold, and, seeing me awake, put a coal in his pipe and said:
"Well, fusilier Bertha, we are now in the rear-guard."
I did not know what he meant.
"That astonishes you," he continued; "but we have not stirred, while the army has made a half-wheel. Yesterday it was before us in the Rippach; now it is behind us, near Lutzen; and, instead of being in the front, we are in the rear; so that now," said he, closing an eye and drawing two long puffs of his pipe, "we are the last, instead of the foremost."
"And what do we gain by it?" I asked.
"We gain the honor of first reaching Leipzig, and falling on the Prussians," he replied. "You will understand this by and by, conscript."
I stood up, and looked around. I saw before us a wide, marshy plain, traversed by the Gruna-Bach and the Floss-Graben. A few hills arose along these streams, and beyond ran a large river, which the sergeant told me was the Elster. The morning mist hung over all. We saw no fires on the hills save those of our division; but the entire third corps occupied the villages scattered in our rear, and headquarters were at Kaya.
At seven o'clock the drums and the trumpets of the artillery sounded the reveille. Ammunition-wagons came up, and bread and cartridges were distributed. Two cantinières arrived from the village; and, as I had yet a few crowns remaining, I offered Klipfel and Zébédé a glass of brandy each, to counteract the effects of the fogs of the night. I also presumed to offer one to Sergeant Pinto, who accepted it, saying that bread and brandy warmed the heart.