Christian Hennemann looked composedly after them, and, putting the
field-marshal's pipe into his mouth, he murmured, "Well, I wonder if
this will burn until the field-marshal returns, or if I shall have
to light another!" At this moment a bullet whizzed through the air,
carrying away the pipe from his mouth, and slightly wounding him.
"Well," he murmured, calmly, "the first one is gone, and a piece of
my head to boot! Let us immediately dress the wound, and then light
another pipe; for if he should return, and it is not ready for him--
thunder and lightning!" After giving vent to his feelings, the pipe-
master took oat his little dressing-pouch, stanched the blood,
applied a plaster to the wound, and wrapped a linen handkerchief
around his head. "Now I am all right again, and will do my duty,"
said Christian, closing the pouch, and opening the box, which was
fastened to the pommel of his saddle.
The fight was still raging. Night came, accompanied by a violent
snow-storm, so as to render the muskets useless. As on the Katzbach,
Blucher's soldiers had to attack the enemy with their swords and
bayonets. At length the allies were successful; the French were
overpowered and driven back. The soldiers, headed by Blucher, rushed
exultingly into the village of La Rothiere. "Forward!" shouted the
field-marshal. "Forward!" repeated the soldiers.
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