however, that the trenches were dug, the line was advanced, and the regiment was moved forward some distance, and was halted just under a knoll along which ran a road. The Sergeant was the youngest man in the company; the sound of battle had brought back all his fire. To him numbers were nothing. He thought it now but a matter of a few hours, and France would be at the gates of Berlin. He saw once more the field of glory and heard again the shout of victory; Lorraine would be saved; he beheld the tricolor floating over the capital of the enemies of France. Perhaps, it would be planted there by Pierre. And he saw in his imagination Pierre climbing at a stride from a private to a captain, a colonel, a--! who could tell?--had not the baton been won in a campaign? As to dreaming that a battle could bring any other result than victory!--It was impossible!
"Where are you going?" shouted derisively the men of a regiment at rest, to the Sergeant's command as they marched past.
"To Berlin," repl
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