During the whole drive
to Vulatch we exchanged no word. The sound of the cannon was distant
but incessant, and strangely, as it seemed to me, we were alone. Once
and again soldiers passed us, sometimes wagons with kitchens or
provisions met us on the road, sometimes groups of men were waiting by
the roadside, once we saw them setting up telegraph wires, once a
desolate band of Austrian prisoners crossed our path, twice wagons
with wounded rumbled along--but for the most part we were alone. We
were out of the main track of the battle. It was as though the Forest
had arranged this that it might the more impress us. Our road,
although it was the high road, was rough and uneven and we advanced
slowly: with every step that the horses took I was the more conscious
of a sinister and malign influence. I know how easily one's nerves can
lend atmosphere to something that is in itself innocent and harmless
enough, but it must be remembered that (at this time), in spite of
what had happened yesterday, neither Trenchard's nerves nor mine were
strained.
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