See!
they reach up to the city of Leipsic. It is as I said; the French
intend to march through that city, and retreat across the Saale.
Well, I think General York will await them there, and Langeron will
finish them. But come, Gneisenau, the fog is clearing. Let us ride
to yonder knoll; we shall be able to see better there."
With the nimbleness of a lad Blucher mounted his horse, and, no
longer restraining his impatience, he galloped off. Gneisenau rode
by his side, and at some distance behind him trotted the pipe-
master, with the iron box on the pommel of his saddle.
They reached the crest of the knoll and stopped. The fog had
disappeared, and they could distinctly see a field of horror and
desolation as far as their eyes reached. The immense plain was
covered far and wide with piles of corpses; rivulets of blood
intersected the down-trodden soil; fragments of wagons, cannon, and
vast heaps of horses, lay in wild disorder, and all around the
horizon gleamed the dying fires of upward of twenty villages.
Blucher cast a mournful look on this harrowing spectacle.
"Gneisenau," he said, "it is almost impossible for one to rejoice
over this victory, for it costs too many tears--too much blood. How
those poor brave men are lying there, dead or dying, and have not
even a grave at which their mothers and wives may weep! May the good
God in heaven have mercy on their souls, and comfort those who are
weeping for them!" He took off his cap, and, shading his face with
it, uttered a short, low prayer for the repose of the dead.
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