Kleber’s—who waits upon the banks of the river to cut off your retreat.
We do not propose to retreat, but to advance.
Before another day you will be driven, routed, into
the heart of
If boasting wins, your side will doubtless better ours.
If blows win—your side is sure to fail. You’ve not a regiment that’s trained better than a pack of boys!
I wish he were a liar, but he isn’t.
Our boys struck hard enough, it seems, to capture you.
We were ten, surprised by a battalion, and yet it cost you nearly fifty of your friends to take but ten of us.
There he goes again riddling us with facts.
Sir,—you know there is no quarter given to traitors found in arms against the King.
France has no sovereign but the people.—It is you who are the traitors.
Answer civilly and I may show you mercy.
I neither ask, nor accept mercy. I have done my best to deal a crushing blow to you.—So call your guards, and shoot me without more waste of words.
I see that you are brave.
Brave? Because I’m not afraid to die?
Bah! It takes more courage sometimes to consent to live.
You are young, a Frenchman, and—though misled—a credit to your country. If you’ll give me some excuse, I swear I’d rather spare your life.
Thank you, General; but frankly, I’d rather give you some excuse to take it.
Tremendous explosion heard in the distance. Then a second explosion. The Faubourg in middle ground is blown up and is seen to burn into a blaze.
My God!—See!—The Faubourg!