“So we are to fight wolves and bears with human faces,” said one.
“We are to be shot down,” said another, “without knowing whence the bullet comes; we are to be picked off one by one, like birds in a cage.”
“D’Ahlefeld’s death,” said Bollar, in a solemn tone, “makes me shudder. Our regiment is unlucky. Dispolsen’s murder, that of those poor soldiers found dead at Cascadthymore, d’Ahlefeld’s awful fate,—here are three tragic events in a very short space of time.”
Young Baron Randmer, who had been silent, looked up.
“It is incredible,” said he; “Frederic, who danced so well!”
And after this weighty remark he relapsed into silence, while Captain Lory declared that he was greatly distressed at the young lieutenant’s death, and drew the attention of private Toric-Belfast to the fact that the brass clasp of his shoulder-belt was not so bright as usual.
XXXI.
“Hush, hush! here comes a man climbing down a ladder.”
. . . . . . . . . .
“Oh, yes; he is a spy.”