If he could only take it
all away! . . . That was impossible now through want of means and
time. Besides, his stubborn will looked upon such flight as a shameful
concession. "We must finish what we have begun!" he said to himself. He
had made the trip on purpose to guard his own, and he must not flee at
the approach of danger. . . .
The following morning, when he went down into the village, he saw hardly
any soldiers. Only a single detachment of dragoons was still in the
neighborhood; the horsemen were scouring the woods and pushing forward
the stragglers at the same time that they were opposing the advance of
the enemy. The troopers had obstructed the street with a barricade
of carts and furniture. Standing behind this crude barrier, they were
watching the white strip of roadway which ran between the two hills
covered with trees. Occasionally there sounded stray shots like the
snapping of cords. "Ours," said the troopers. These were the last
detachments of sharpshooters firing at the advancing Uhlans. The cavalry
of the rear guard had the task of opposing a continual resistance to the
enemy, repelling the squads of Germans who were trying to work their way
along to the retreating columns.
Desnoyers saw approaching along the highroad the last stragglers from
the infantry. They were not walking, they rather appeared to be dragging
themselves forward, with the firm intention of advancing, but were
betrayed by emaciated legs and bleeding feet.
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