"I think, sir," said I, facing around on the Commandant, I think by
this time the day must be breaking. Will you kindly open the
shutters? Also you would oblige me further--set it down to an
Englishman's whim--by forming up your men outside; and we will have a
soldier's wedding."
"Willingly, cavalier." The Commandant stepped to the shutter and
unbarred it, letting in daylight with the cool morning breeze--a
greenish-grey daylight, falling across the glade without as softly as
ever through cathedral aisles, and a breeze that was wine to the
taste as it breathed through the exhausted air of the cottage--a
sacramental dawn, and somewhere deep in the arcades of the tree-boles
a solitary bird singing!
The Commandant leaned forth and blew his whistle. The bird's song
ceased, and was followed by the tramp of men. My brain worked so
clearly, I could almost count their footsteps. I saw them, across
the Commandant's shoulder, as they filed past the corner of the
window and, having formed into platoon, grounded arms, the butts of
their muskets thudding softly on the turf--a score of men in
blue-and-white uniforms, spick and span in the clear morning light.
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