I did not tremble as in the last campaign. Ah! perhaps I did not
pray so much. I heard of the crossing of the Rhine at Brisach, and
then came rumours of a tremendous battle at Freiburg. The bells had
only just begun to ring, when Pierre, our groom, galloped into the
town, and sent up at once his packet. His master, he said, was
wounded, but not badly, and had covered himself with glory. I tore
open the packet. There were a few lines by his own dear hand;--
'My heart--I shall be with thee soon to rest in thy care--D.G. Kiss
your son. Thy B.'
The rest of the packet was from my half-brother De Solivet, and told
how, in the frightful attack on the vineyard at Freiburg, seven times
renewed, my dear, dear Philippe had received a shot in the knee, just
as he was grasping a Bavarian standard, which he carried off with
him. He would have returned to the charge, but faintness overpowered
him, and he was supported on horseback from the field to the tent.
The wound had been dressed, and the surgeon saw no occasion for
alarm. M. de Solivet, who had a slight wound himself, and M.
d'Aubepine, who was quite uninjured, though he had done prodigies of
valour, would tend him with all their hearts. I had better send the
carriage and horses at once to bring him back, as the number of
wounded was frightful, and means of transport were wanting. Then
followed a message of express command from my husband that I was not
to think of coming with the carriage.
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