"
"Yes, to Brussels," said Blucher; "we set out to-night; but no one
must know it; I will leave as quietly as possible. I cannot stand
bidding them all farewell, and listening to their fine speeches; I
will leave, therefore, so that no one shall discover it before I am
gone."
"A secret flight!" said Christian, laconically.
"Secret flight? how stupid!" grumbled Blucher. "It is strange what
ridiculous words the boy uses! How a flight? I believe I am no
prisoner."
"No, but you are field-marshal."
Blucher's red eyes cast an angry glance on the bold pipe-master.
"You talk as you understand it," he cried; "when I am a poor blind
fellow, swallowing powders and using salves all day I am no longer a
field-marshal and had better resign, not waiting to be deposed by a
few polite phrases. That is the reason why I am going to leave."
"And I leave, too," said Christian; "but as the field-marshal does
not wish me to say any thing about it, of course I shall not. But
how are we to get away, if no one is to be informed?"
"Well, listen! I will tell you. I have already devised the whole
plan of operations, and--but, hark! something seems moving in the
alcove, as if a door opened."
"There is no door in the alcove," said Christian; "it was, perhaps,
a mouse, and it tells no tales. Inform me, field-marshal, what I
have to do.
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