Max by Katherine Cecil Thurston
page 49 of 365 (13%)
page 49 of 365 (13%)
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The knowledge sprang to the boy's mind with the swiftness and poignancy
of an inspiration. This body of men might be insignificant, but it represented the army of France--a thing of infinite tradition, of infinite romance. The blood mounted to his face, his heart beat faster, and with a strange, half-shy sense of participating in some fine moment, his hand went up to his hat. Unconsciously he made a picture as he stood there, his dark hair stirred by the light, early air, his young face beautiful in its sudden enthusiasm; and to one pair of eyes in the little crowd it seemed better worth watching than the passing soldiers. The owner of these eyes had been observant of him from the moment that he had run forward, drawn by the rattle of the drums; and now, as if in acceptance of an anticipated opportunity, he forced a way through the knot of people and, pausing behind the boy, addressed him in an easy, familiar voice, as one friend might address another. "Isn't it odd," he said, "to look at those insignificant creatures, and to think that the soldiers of France have kissed the women and thrashed the men the world over?" Had a gun been discharged close to his car the boy could not have started more violently. Fear leaped into his eyes, he wheeled round; then a sharp, nervous laugh of relief escaped him. "How you frightened me!" he exclaimed. "Oh, how you frightened me!" Then he laughed again. His travelling companion of the night before smiled down on him from his |
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