Then it was that a soldier, confiding his musket to the care of a
companion, threw himself flat upon his belly, and crawling unobserved
around behind this obscure hero, seized him by the legs. He tottered
like an oak beneath the blow of the axe, struggled furiously, but taken
at such a disadvantage was thrown to the ground, crying, as he fell:
"Help! friends, help!"
But no one responded to this appeal.
At the other end of the open space those upon whom he called had, after
a desperate struggle, yielded.
The main body of the duke's infantry was near at hand.
The rebels heard the drums beating the charge; they could see the
bayonets gleaming in the sunlight.
Lacheneur, who had remained in the same spot, utterly ignoring the shot
that whistled around him, felt that his few remaining comrades were
about to be exterminated.
In that supreme moment the whole past was revealed to him as by a flash
of lightning. He read and judged his own heart. Hatred had led him to
crime. He loathed himself for the humiliation which he had imposed
upon his daughter.
Pages:
255
256
257
258
259
260
261
262
263
264
265
266
267
268
269
270
271
272
273
274
275
276
277
278
279