[Charles O’Malley, The Irish Dragoon Volume 2 (of 2) by Charles Lever]@TWC D-Link bookCharles O’Malley, The Irish Dragoon Volume 2 (of 2) CHAPTER I 16/17
The ruined castle and the desecrated altar are sad things to look upon; but, somehow, a far heavier depression sunk into my heart as my eye ranged over the wide valleys and broad hills, all redolent of comfort, of beauty, and of happiness, and yet not one man to say, "This is my home; these are my household gods." The birds carolled gayly in each leafy thicket; the bright stream sung merrily as it rippled through the rocks; the tall corn, gently stirred by the breeze, seemed to swell the concert of sweet sounds; but no human voice awoke the echoes there.
It was as if the earth was speaking in thankfulness to its Maker, while man,--ungrateful and unworthy man,--pursuing his ruthless path of devastation and destruction, had left no being to say, "I thank Thee for all these." The day was closing as we drew near the Alberche, and came in sight of the watch-fires of the enemy.
Far as the eye could reach their column extended, but in the dim twilight nothing could be seen with accuracy; yet from the position their artillery occupied, and the unceasing din of baggage wagons and heavy carriages towards the rear, I came to the conclusion that a still farther retreat was meditated.
A picket of light cavalry was posted upon the river's bank, and seemed to watch with vigilance the approaches to the stream. Our bivouac was a dense copse of pine-trees, exactly opposite to the French advanced posts, and there we passed the night,--fortunately a calm and starlight one; for we dared not light fires, fearful of attracting attention. During the long hours I lay patiently watching the movements of the enemy till the dark shadows hid all from sight; and even then, as my ears caught the challenge of a sentry or the footsteps of some officer in his round, my thoughts were riveted upon them, and a hundred vague fancies as to the future were based upon no stronger foundation than the clink of a firelock or the low-muttered song of a patrol. Towards morning I slept; and when day broke my first glance was towards the river-side.
But the French were gone, noiselessly, rapidly.
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