One messenger turned itself into a thousand messengers, and they were
all messengers of death. Honored sir, I left that vicinity as soon as I
could, and I have been traveling fast, directly away from there, ever
since."
Von Boehlen laughed, and then his strong jaws closed tighter. After a
moment's silence, he said:
"Many such messengers have been passing in recent months. The air has
been full of them. If you don't like battles, Castel, I don't blame you
for traveling in the direction you take."
John, who had turned his face away for precautionary measures, looked
him full in the eyes again, and he found in his heart a little liking
for the Prussian. Von Boehlen seemed to have lost something of his
haughtiness and confidence since those swaggering days in Dresden, and
the loss had improved him. John saw some signs of a civilian's sense of
justice and reason beneath the military gloss.
"May I pass on, sir?" he asked. "I wish to reach Metz, where I can
obtain more horses for the army."
"Why do you walk?"
"I sold my last horse and the automobiles and trains are not for me. I
know that the army needs all the space in them and I ask nothing."
"Fare on then," said von Boehlen. "Your papers are in good condition and
you'll have no trouble in reaching Metz. But be sure you don't lose your
passport.
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