Page:Battle-Pieces and Aspects of the War.djvu/215



Off went his hat: "Lady, fear not;

We soldiers do what we deplore—

I must detain you till we march"

The stranger nodded. Nettled now,

He grew politer than before:—

"'Tis Mosby's fault, this halt and search"

The lady stiffened in her starch.

"My duty, madam, bids me now

Ask what may seem a little rude.

Pardon—that veil—withdraw it, please

(Corporal! make every man fall back);

Pray, now I do but what I should;

Bethink you, 'tis in masks like these

That Mosby haunts the villages."

Slowly the stranger drew her veil,

And looked the Soldier in the eye—

A glance of mingled foul and fair;

Sad patience in a proud disdain,

And more than quietude. A sigh

She heaved, and if all unaware,

And far seemed Mosby from her care.