He became
also aware that a carriage had driven up among the villagers, and had
stopped; and though he did not look directly, he felt that it was Madame
Chalice. This soft look on his face was not all assumed; for the ancient
uniform of the sergeant touched something in him, the true comedian, or
the true Napoleon, and it seemed as if he might dismount and take the old
soldier in his arms.
He set his horse on a little, and paused again, with not more than
fifteen feet between them. The sergeant's brain was going round like a
top. It was not he that challenged after all.
"Soldier of the Old Guard," cried Valmond, in a clear, ringing voice,
"how far is it to Friedland?"
Like a machine the veteran's hand again went up to his cap, and he
answered:
"To Friedland--the width of a ditch!"
His voice shook as he said it, and the world to him was all a muddle
then; for Napoleon the Great had asked a private this question after that
battle on the Alle, when Berningsen, the Russian, threw away an army to
the master strategist.
The private had answered the question in the words of Sergeant Lagroin.
It was a saying long afterwards among the Old Guard, though it may not be
found in the usual histories of that time, where every battalion, almost
every company, had a watchword, which passed to make room for others, as
victory followed victory.
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