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 the body, reeled and fell: the rider of it sank an instant, then shook himself free and rose.

It was he—at last!

He knew me, and I him, even in that mad moment.

I sprang upon him like a beast; my sword was at his throat; the smoke was all around us; no one saw; he was disarmed and in my power.

My men shouted together, "En avant! en avant!" They thought they were victorious.

I heard, I remembered: he too fought for France. I dared not slay him. I let him go.

"Afterwards! afterwards!" I said in his ear. He knew well what I meant.

He caught a loose charger that galloped snorting by; he seized his fallen sabre; he swept onward with his troops; I charged in line with my own men. With the roar of the firing in my ear, and the shouts of our fancied triumph, I pressed onward and downward into the ranks of the enemy: then I dropped senseless.

When the surgeon found me at dawn the next day, I had no wound on me.

For the victory—it had lived only in vanquished soldiers' dreams, as all the victories of France have lived in this bitter season.

I woke to consciousness and to remembrance,