'"
"Well, I do not care," said Blucher. "We have gained today, then,
the battle of La Rothiere, and, what is still better, we have shown
the French in their own country that Napoleon's invincibility is a
myth, and that he can be beaten as well as any other general.--But
what is that? See there, Gneisenau! what sentinel is posted on the
road yonder?"
In fact, a dark form on horseback halted by the roadside; the flames
of the burning village rose higher, and shed a light on the
stranger. It was a man dressed in the uniform of a hussar; a white,
blood-stained handkerchief was wrapped around his head and half his
face; his right arm was also bandaged, and in his mouth was a clay
pipe.
"It is the pipe-master!" cried Blucher, quickly galloping up.
"Yes, it is I--who should it be?" grumbled Christian.
"But, Christian," exclaimed Blucher, "how in Heaven's name do you
look! And what are you doing here?"
"I am waiting for Field-Marshal Blucher. Did you not tell me that I
was to wait for you here, and keep the pipe in order? Well, I did
wait for you, field-marshal. And you ask, too, how I look? Just like
one around whom the blue beans have been whizzing for hours past,
and whose head and arm have been scratched a great deal. You kept me
waiting a long time, field-marshal--more than four hours! The French
have shot pipe after pipe from my mouth, and this is the last I
have.
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