"
John felt a light and momentary chill. It would certainly be the irony
of fate if on his great quest he were smitten down by a missile from his
own army. But no others struck near them, although the intermittent
battle of artillery in the hills continued.
Sergeant Scheller paid no attention to the distant cannon fire, to which
he had grown so used long since that he regarded it as one of the
ordinary accompaniments of life, like the blowing of the wind. He was in
a good humor and he talked agreeably much about battle and march,
although he betrayed no military secrets, chiefly because he had none to
betray.
"I march here and I march there," he said, "I and my men shoot at a
certain point, and from a certain point we're shot at. That's all I
know."
"And that, I take it, is the cathedral in Metz," said John, pointing
toward the top of a lofty spire showing against the blue.
"So it is, Castel, and here you'll have to show your passport again.
We're approaching the fortifications. I couldn't tell you about them if
I would. We drive along a narrow road between high earthworks and we see
nothing."
Their entry into Metz was slow and long. John was compelled to show his
passport again and again, and he answered innumerable questions, many
searching and pointed, but again he was thrice lucky in knowing the town
and something about Lorraine.
Pages:
162
163
164
165
166
167
168
169
170
171
172
173
174
175
176
177
178
179
180
181
182
183
184
185
186