"I'll stay with you, if you'll only go," pleaded Pierre, "but you
aren't even moving."
"Come, Pierrette," said his Mother, "take hold of his left arm. I
will attend to his right; he might forget again. What he really
needs is a bit and bridle!"
The three moved up the street, Pierre chafing inwardly, but
helpless in his Mother's grasp, and at the next crossing the
great spectacle burst upon them. A whole regiment of cavalry was
passing, singing at the top of their lungs, "Lieb' Vaterland,
macht ruhig sein." The sun glistened on their helmets, and the
clanking of swords and the jingling of spurs kept time with the
swelling chorus. After the cavalry came soldiers on foot--miles
of them.
"Oh," murmured Pierrette, clinging to
her Mother, "it's like a river of men!"
Her Mother did not answer. Pierrette looked up into her face. The
tears were streaming down her cheeks, but her head was proudly
erect. She looked at the other French people about them. There
were tears on many cheeks, but not a head was bowed. Pierre was
glaring at the troops and muttering through his teeth: "Just you
wait till I grow up! I'll make you pay for this, you pirates!
I'll--"
"Hush!" whispered Pierrette. "Suppose they should hear you!"
"I don't care if they do! I wish they would!" raged Pierre. "I'm
going--"
But the German Army was destined not to suffer the consequences
of Pierre's wrath. He did not even have a chance to tell
Pierrette his plan for their destruction, for at this point his
Mother, unable longer to endure the sight, dragged him forcibly
from the scene.
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