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How The Brigadier Bore Himself At Waterloo | Arthur Conan Doyle | |
The Story Of The Forest Inn |
Page 2 of 14 |
These were the dangerous men, veterans of twenty battles, longing for their old trade, and with hearts filled with hatred and revenge. The ranks were full of soldiers who wore two and three chevrons, every chevron meaning five years' service. And the spirit of these men was terrible. They were raging, furious, fanatical, adoring the Emperor as a Mameluke does his prophet, ready to fall upon their own bayonets if their blood could serve him. If you had seen these fierce old veterans going into battle, with their flushed faces, their savage eyes, their furious yells, you would wonder that anything could stand against them. So high was the spirit of France at that time that every other spirit would have quailed before it; but these people, these English, had neither spirit nor soul, but only solid, immovable beef, against which we broke ourselves in vain. That was it, my friends! On the one side, poetry, gallantry, self-sacrifice--all that is beautiful and heroic. On the other side, beef. Our hopes, our ideals, our dreams--all were shattered on that terrible beef of Old England. |
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The Adventures of Gerard Arthur Conan Doyle |
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