the Archduke caught in the little 'un's trap?
THE DUKE.
The distant dust-cloud yonder is Nansouty.
FLAMBEAU.
Has the Archduke not yet deployed his right?
THE DUKE.
The smoke is Lauriston--
FLAMBEAU.
But the Archduke?
THE DUKE.
Now he deploys his right.
FLAMBEAU.
His goose is cooked.
THE DUKE.
Here come the guns!
FLAMBEAU.
I thirst!--I stifle--Drink!
What--is--the--Emperor doing?
THE DUKE.
With a smile
He shuts his little spy-glass.
FLAMBEAU.
[_Closing his eyes._]
Victory!
THE DUKE.
Flambeau!
[_He looks at him, and moves away a little._]
This dying soldier frightens me.
Yet 'tis not strange a dying grenadier
Should fall asleep upon this field of glory.
The field is well acquainted with his likes.
[_He bends over him and cries._]
Yes! Victory! The soldiers toss their shakos!
FLAMBEAU.
[_In his death-rattle._]
I thirst--!
DISTANT VOICES.
I thirst!--I thirst!
THE DUKE.
[_Shuddering._]
What are those echoes?
A VOICE.
I thirst--!
THE DUKE.
O God!
THE SAME VOICES.
[_Very distant._]
I die--I die!
THE DUKE.
[_With horror._]
His voice
Reverberates beneath the lurid sky.
THE VOICES.
I die--!
THE DUKE.
I understand! His cries of death
Are, for this vale which knows them all by heart,
As the first measures of a well-known song.
The plain takes up the moaning death has hushed.
THE PLAIN.
Ah--! Ah--!
THE DUKE.
I understand! complaints and sobs!--
'Tis Wagram's field, remembering aloud!
THE PLAIN.
Ah--! Ah--!
THE DUKE.
[_Looking at_ FLAMBEAU.]
How still he lies!--I must begone!
For 'tis as if he'd fallen in the battle!
[_And bending over him he murmurs._]
Thus and no otherwise they must have looked!
The uniform--the blood--!
[_He is about to go, but suddenly, with horror._]
Another! There!
There--! Everywhere--! The same accusing shapes!
They're dying thus as far as eye can reach!
THE PLAIN.
Alas--!
THE DUKE.
I hear them speaking in the gloom!
VOICES.
My brow bleeds--! My leg is dead--! My arm hangs loose!--
I'm
|